Page 26 of River Legacy (Powder River #5)

But first, she had to convince Ryder that she’d never been part of a scheme to steal his ranch and that he needed to be concerned about what her father was now up to. She feared it was dangerous.

Her breakfast came. After her worry about what her father was up to, she’d lost her appetite, but she made herself eat some of it.

The breakfast was nothing like the one she’d had at the ranch.

She thought of Ryder and Brand sitting around the table giving each other a hard time.

She’d always wished for a sibling, never getting to experience what Ryder had in spades.

Did he know how lucky he was? She thought he just might.

By now, the brothers would have eaten and were probably out doing chores.

She hoped the foal was doing well. She wondered what he would be like when he was grown.

Brand had joked about naming the colt after her.

The thought made her heart lift like a balloon.

But the thought of never seeing him grow up pricked that bubble of joy, letting all the air out.

She pushed her plate away, only half-eaten. When the woman Ryder had called Penny came over, she gave her a credit card to pay for her bill.

“I’m sorry,” Penny said, returning quickly. “I ran it twice.” She shook her head and looked embarrassed.

“Just a moment,” Victoria said and checked her phone. Just as she suspected, there was a message from her father that read When you mess with the bull, you’re going to get the horns .

Putting her phone away, she checked to see how much cash she had and quickly paid her bill. On her way out of the café, she stopped at a bulletin board covered with posts offering babysitting, cleaning services, car repair and finally vehicles for sale.

She pulled off a number and made the call.

Fortunately, the vehicle was still for sale and only a block away.

The Montana summer day was so beautiful she enjoyed the walk.

She’d never get over how blue the sky was out here.

She thought of the night sky she’d stood under after she and Ryder had returned from the bar last night.

She’d never seen so many stars. She felt sad to think that she might not see another sky like that.

The faded red pickup sat out front of a small shop that was being run from the man’s garage.

“Hello?” she called as she approached.

A gray-haired man came out of the garage, shading his eyes. “You the lady who called about the pickup?” he asked as he stepped from the darkness of the garage, wiping his greasy hands on a rag. Somewhere in his late sixties, she saw he had the hood up on an older-model car he’d been working on.

“I am. Is this it?” she asked, stepping over to the red pickup.

“That’s her, but I don’t think she’s for you,” he said, taking in her dress and high heels before shaking his head.

She smiled. Did he think she was too proud to drive an old pickup? “Why?”

“It’s a stick shift.”

Victoria chuckled. “Not a problem. I can drive it. Mind if I start her up?”

“Help yourself. She runs like a top. Worked on her myself.”

The engine started at once and purred. “Sounds good,” she said. “I’m a little short of cash, though. What’s the best you could do on her?”

The man studied the ground and chewed at his cheek for a few moments before he shook his head. “She’s worth every dime I’m asking.”

Victoria looked around the clean cab. “She was yours?”

“Yep.”

“You took good care of her. She have a name?” she asked, knowing the pickup would.

“Mabel,” he said, ducking his head as if embarrassed.

“Mabel,” she repeated, liking the sound of it. Not only had she learned to drive, she now had her first automobile—if she could afford it.

“Named after my wife. She’s now deceased.”

“I’m so sorry.” She gripped the wheel, sensing that Mabel would have liked her having the old pickup. “I’d like to buy Mabel. I promise to take good care of her. Is there any chance you could throw in a tank of gas?”

C J knew he was going to have to lean on some of his former friends in order to pull off his plan.

Forester had said he would provide help, but CJ preferred to work with men he knew and could trust over the tycoon’s right-hand man, Claude Duvall.

But Duvall might make the perfect fall guy if things went south.

“I thought I told you to never call me again,” Treyton McKenna snapped in answer to the call.

CJ laughed, unconcerned. If Treyton really hadn’t wanted to talk to him, his old rival wouldn’t have picked up. “You’re going to want to be in on this.”

Treyton swore. “I don’t even want to know.”

“Yes, you do. I’m almost to your place now. See you soon. ”

“Seriously, CJ, I don’t—”

He hung up before the man could argue further.

It was no surprise to find Treyton standing outside the shack he lived in, holding an automatic rifle.

CJ pulled up, smiling at how he and a McKenna had been in business together not all that long ago.

He’d made Treyton a lot of money and provided him with a whole new profitable enterprise while he’d been behind bars. The man owed him.

CJ climbed out and walked toward him, knowing Treyton wouldn’t use the weapon. He was bluffing. He’d always been a jerk. The McKenna family had pretty much disowned Treyton except for his father. Holden didn’t have the sense to realize that his son had no redeeming qualities and let him go.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

CJ shrugged. “Then, I won’t be able to change your mind.”

“Heard you’re living in an apartment in Miles City.” Treyton had perfected the mocking tone he used with most people. It was no wonder he lived out here in the badlands alone instead of on the McKenna Ranch. But it did make it easier for CJ to con him into doing most anything he wanted.

“The apartment is perfect,” he said lying through his teeth about that. He hated it, found it humiliating. He should be out at the ranch in his wing of the house. He should be running the ranch, but that, he realized, was an old dream that he had to let go. He had a new plan thanks to his mother.

“The apartment is perfect?” Treyton mocked.

CJ grinned. “How else could I have met with Wendell Forester there this morning without anyone being the wiser?”

Treyton let out a grunt. “Right, Wendell Forester, the billionaire developer. Did this new you serve him a cup of tea?”

“No, a Bloody Mary, if you must know. His daughter’s been staying out at the ranch after hooking up with Ryder. Maybe you heard.”

His eyes widened a little, even though he denied any interest. Clearly, Treyton hadn’t heard.

“I’ve promised Wendell the Stafford Ranch for a very large sum of money. Maybe you would be interested in some of it.”

Treyton frowned. “You running a con on Wendell Forester? Oh, you really are playing in the big leagues now.” He laughed. “You swindle him, and that man will have you killed and buried out here in the badlands.”

“It’s not a swindle. It’s a straight-up business deal,” CJ said.

“Just one problem, as I see it. You don’t have the ranch. In fact, you can’t even stay there. Come on, CJ, quit wasting my time.”

“Right, you’re so busy.” CJ looked away, grinding his teeth and trying for patience.

“Do you really think I don’t have a plan?

I’m going to get control of the ranch. I’m going to sell it, and I’m leaving the country.

You can stay here and live like this, or you can help me and spend the rest of your life on a beach far away from here. You want in on this or not?”

“I never liked beaches. The sand. It gets between my toes, you know?” But he lowered the rifle. “What’s my cut?”

“Five percent.”

“Ten percent,” Treyton said, thinking he was in a bargaining position.

“Fine,” CJ said. “Ten percent of over ten million dollars. Let’s see how much that would be,” he said, pretending to run the numbers in his head.

Treyton’s eyes had gone as big as silver dollars since the man was capable of counting. “Who do I have to kill?”