“Nerd,” Judah said, trying to be helpful, which earned him another scowl from Fiona.
“He’s not a nerd. He’s just a deep thinker.”
That was an understatement. “You could pick on Rafe. He’s next in line behind Jonas, and as Creed’s twin it would make sense. He’ll probably start missing that twin camaraderie now that Creed’s got his hands full.”
Fiona looked hurt. “Is that what you think I’m doing? Picking on you boys?”
“Oh, no. No, Aunt Fiona.” Judah looked at the hurt tears in his delicate aunt’s eyes. “We know you just want us all to be happy.”
She nodded. “I do. And how do you think I feel about having to make you all settle down before your time—if you have a sense of time at all, and I don’t think any of you boys do—when I’ve lost Rancho Diablo?”
“We haven’t lost it yet,” Judah soothed. “Sam’s gotten a continuance. We may get out of Bode’s trap eventually. Somehow.”
“But it’s better to load our deck for success.” Fiona waved at him. “Eat your breakfast. It’s getting cold.”
Burke, Fiona’s lifelong butler (and her secret husband, which she seemed keen for no one to know about, though all the Callahan brothers had figured it out) brought the mail in, handing it to her.
“Oh, look!” she exclaimed, as Judah pushed the now cool eggs around his plate. She waved an envelope in the air. “Cream-colored stock. Always a good sign!”
“Why?” he asked, his gaze on the calligraphed envelope.
“It’s a wedding invitation, if I know my wedding invitations, and I think I do!” Fiona tore into the envelope. She stopped, staring at the contents. “Well,” she murmured, “I didn’t see this coming. No, I really didn’t.”
Burke looked over her shoulder, peering at the invite. “Uh-oh,” he said, and Fiona nodded.
“Who’s getting strung?” he asked, feeling cheerful that it wasn’t him. Some other poor sack was getting the marital ball and chain, but it wasn’t him. Pity the fool who falls into the clutches of a beautiful woman, he thought, as his aunt handed him the invitation silently.
“‘Ms. Mavis Cameron Night requests the honor of your presence at the wedding of her daughter, Darla Cameron, to Dr. Sidney Tunstall, on June 30,”’ he read out loud, his breath going short and his heart practically stopping. His gaze shot to Fiona’s. “Didn’t you know about this? She’s one of your best friends.”
“Mavis didn’t say a word to me,” his aunt exclaimed. “I can’t understand why. And the wedding is in a few days, which I also can’t understand. What’s the rush?”
She studied the invitation for another moment, then lifted her gaze to his again. Oh, but she needn’t have worn such a worried expression. He had a good idea why a woman might marry so quickly—Darla was pregnant.
The thought burned his gut.
“Oh, dear,” Aunt Fiona said, her eyes huge.
Judah shoved back his chair.
“Shall I say all the family will be in attendance?” she asked, and he yelled over his shoulder, “I wouldn’t miss it,” as he dashed out into the hot dry wind. Darla hadn’t wanted any emotional connection between them. And he, spare Romeo that he was, had fallen into her arms and dreamed of a future.
He was a fool. But not a fool on his way to the altar, and there was something to be said for that.
Still, Judah wondered if he heard an empty echo in his bravado. And his broken heart drove him onto the range, riding hell-bent to nowhere.
AN HOUR LATER, Judah was positive he saw the mystical Diablos down in a canyon, well past the working oil derricks and the fenced cattle land. Legend said that the wild horses ran free on Rancho Diablo, and no one could get close to them because they were spirits. They were also a portent of something magical to come. The Callahans didn’t see the herd of horses often, but when they did, they respected the moment.
They were not spirit horses, as far as Judah was concerned. He could see them drinking from a small stream that threaded through the dust-painted canyon, though his eyes blurred in the bright sunlight. Nearby, a large cactus offered a little shade, but Judah ignored it, easing back in the saddle to watch the horses. Their untamed beauty called to his own wild side.
They turned as one and floated deeper into the canyon. Judah followed, watching for snakes, hawks and other critters. He and his brothers had explored this canyon many times, knew all its secrets.
His horse went to the thin stream, too. Judah slid from the saddle and took a long drink from the pale water. When he looked up, he saw a rock shelf he didn’t remember.
Closer inspection showed the opening to a cave so hidden from the main canyon path that he would never have seen it if he hadn’t bent down to drink. Cautiously, he went inside, his gun drawn in case of wild creatures he might startle.
But the cave was empty now—clearly some kind of once-used mine. Judah went past a rough shaft and a basic pulley and cart.
He’d found the legendary silver mine.
But it wasn’t much of one, and appeared to have been long deserted. This couldn’t be why Bode was so determined to get Rancho Diablo land—unless he thought there was more silver to be discovered. Still, what difference could silver mean to the wealthy man? And even if the Callahans were forced to sell Rancho Diablo, they would make certain they retained the mineral rights.
A loomed rug lay on the cave floor, hidden from casual visitors. There was also evidence of footprints, visible in the fading light that filtered into the cave. Still deeper, what seemed to be a message in some cryptic language was written on the wall, and it looked fresh. He touched the letters, smearing them a little. Underneath, silver coins and a few silver bars were stacked on a flat rock, like an offering.
Judah realized he’d stumbled on a smuggling operation, or perhaps a thruway for travelers who shouldn’t be using Rancho Diablo land.
He left the cave, grabbed his horse’s reins and swung into the saddle to ride in the opposite direction the Diablos had taken, as he wondered who might be using Callahan land and why.
For the moment, he would say nothing, he decided—until he understood more about why he’d been led to this place.
THE NEXT DAY, Judah realized drastic steps would have to be taken. The whole town of Diablo, it seemed, was atwitter over Darla’s impending marriage. No detail was too small to be hashed over—the bridal gown she’d bought from the store she co-owned with Jackie Samuels Callahan, Pete’s wife; the diamante-covered shoes she’d purchased. She’d scheduled an appointment for her hair, which had been dutifully reported. It would be worn long, crowned with an illusion veil that had orange blossoms cascading at the hem, which would just touch her shoulders.
Judah was sick to death of details. He wouldn’t know an orange blossom if it grew out of his boot.
Strangely, the bride had not been seen since her invitations were mailed. Nor had the groom, though he was expected in town any day now. Judah knew him. Sidney Tunstall was a popular rodeo doctor and a one-time bronc buster, a man with a spine like a spring, who seemed to be kissed by good fortune. He was also wealthy. And he’d been after Darla for some time, if scuttlebutt was to be believed. Tall and lean and focused, the doctor seemed like a guy who loved what he did and did it well.
Which pretty much stank, but that was how it went. A man could lose to a better rival if he had slow-moving feet, and Judah reckoned his feet had been slower than most.
He flung himself inside the bunkhouse, anxious to sit alone in front of the fireplace