Free Certified Cowboy by Rita Herron

minutes later muttered a curse. Frank Dunham had served time in the state pen with Carter.
    Dammit. Carter had been furious when Johnny had visited him. He hated him and Brandon. Would he sabotage the ranch to get revenge?

    R EX STUDIED THE DOSSIER his friend had printed out on Johnny Long, a litany of curses spewing from his mouth.
    Damn cocky bastard had won a slew of rodeo awards and was a hero in the circuit. He had money coming out of his ass and enough land for an army to live on. He raised prized stallions, bred horses for racing and stud fees, and raised prime beef cattle.
    And from the damn news article about this BBL place, Johnny Long was not only one of the fundraisers, but he’d also donated a million dollars to back the ranch and kid camps himself.
    All to make himself look like some kind of damn saint.
    But Johnny Long was no saint.
    Rex could look into his eyes and see the evil. He skimmed the man’s background and read that he’d grown up dirt-poor with a drunken, abusive father and a mother who’d run off and left him. Johnny had also tangled with the law himself and had liked bar brawls a little too much when he was young. He’d escaped jail time by the skin of his tanned, leathery face.
    Rex flipped through the photographs of all the groupies who’d flung themselves at him. Women who would drop their pants for him at the crook of his finger.
    He’d charm their clothes off with his shiny belt buckles, his smooth talking and awards and cocky grin.
    Was that what he was doing to Rachel? Charming his way into her bed? Had she already succumbed to the man and become another whore for him to brag about?
    And his son?
    What the hell was she doing taking his son into another man’s place to live?
    “You want me to take care of Johnny Long?”
    Rex shook his head, then unfolded a wad of cash and paid his buddy for the information. He’d already sworn him to secrecy.
    Any man who broke that code would end up dead and his buddy knew it.
    The man stuffed the money in his pocket, then slid into the shadows of the bar and out the back door.
    Rex crushed the damn dossier in his hands, polished off his whiskey, then waved the waitress over for another.
    If Johnny Long thought he was going to steal his wife and son, he was a fool.
    By God, he would kill the son of a bitch and make Rachel watch. Then she’d beg him to take her back just to save herself from what he planned to do to her.

Chapter Seven
    The fact that Frank Dunham had served time in jail with Carter seemed too coincidental for comfort and raised ugly suspicions in Johnny’s head.
    He checked his watch. Lunchtime. He’d already posted a note to the ranch hands and staff requesting a meeting to discuss the rodeo plans, so Dunham should be there, as well.
    After the meeting, he’d confront the ex-con about the fencing. If he was in cahoots with Carter to cause trouble, Dunham’s second chance would be gone. And Johnny would be heading back to the state pen to have a chat with his once-best friend.
    Remembering Rachel, he washed up and changed his sweaty shirt. Not that he wouldn’t dirty another one this afternoon, working with the horses, but he hated to go to dinner smelling like an animal.
    By the time he arrived at the cafeteria, it was packed with campers and hands. Starved, he grabbed a tray and loaded it with a bowl of soup, two roast-beef sandwiches and a glass of sweet iced tea. He spotted Kenny talking and laughing with the day campers, then joined Brody at a corner table.
    “I fixed the fence,” he told Brody. “There was definitely foul play.”
    “One of the kids?” Brody asked.
    He shrugged. “I don’t think so. I checked with the counselors and they were all accounted for. I’m going to question one of the ex-cons we hired.”
    Brody cleared his throat. “I’m worried about Copeland. What if he’s hired someone to make us look bad before the rodeo?”
    Johnny considered the possibility. “He’s worth checking