Summer Days (Fool's Gold #7)

Rafe tightened his grip on the phone. “This is you helping?”


“In my own way. I’ll call the local police and have…” There was the sound of rustling papers.

“…Glen Simpson picked up. He’ll be in custody before I hit town. I should be there by six. Between now and then, don’t do anything I’ll regret.”

Not a promise Rafe was willing to make, he thought as he hung up. He turned, only to find his mother rushing toward him.

“Rafe! You’re not arresting Glen.”

The old guy looked less charming and more pale. As Rafe watched, he swallowed and started backing toward the house.

“Mom, this guy took money from you by making you think you were buying a ranch. He doesn’t own the ranch, so he stole your money and he has no way to pay it back.”

May’s mouth twisted. “If you’re going to make it sound like that—”

He cut her off. “It is like that.”

“I don’t understand why you have to be this way.”

He glanced back at the house, expecting to see Glen slinking inside. But the old guy had only made it as far as the porch. Maybe he was going to try and bluff his way out. Rafe didn’t mind a good fight, but he preferred a more formidable opponent.

His gaze moved from the building to the yard. There were flowers—different from the ones his mother had planted, but just as colorful. A big sign offered goat milk, goat cheese and goat manure for sale. He fleetingly hoped they were kept in separate containers and on different parts of the property.

Speaking of goats, he could see a couple beyond the fence by the house. There was a big horse by the barn. No steers, he thought, remembering having to deal with them when he was a kid.

There had been good times here, he admitted to himself. Moments when he’d had fun with his brothers and sister. While his father had taught him and Shane to ride, Rafe had been the one to teach Clay and later Evangeline. Rafe had stepped into his father’s shoes after the man had died. Or he’d tried—after all, he’d been only eight. He could still remember how long it had taken to realize his daddy was never coming home again and that it was now all up to him.

The woman—Heidi—jogged up to the house, the goat trotting at her side like a well-trained dog.

“Glen, are you all right?” she asked, slightly out of breath. “What’s going on?”

“It’s going to be fine,” Glen told her, looking calm for a man about to go to jail.

“It’s not fine,” May said firmly. “My son is being difficult.”

“Not much of a surprise,” Heidi muttered, turning to him. “I know you’re angry, but we can come to terms. If you’d just listen and be reasonable.”

“Good luck,” May said with a sigh. “Rafe doesn’t believe in being reasonable.”

He shrugged. “Everyone has a flaw.”

“You think this is funny?” Heidi demanded, her green eyes snapping with outrage and fear. “We’re talking about my family.”

“And mine.”

A car pulled in behind his. Rafe saw the city seal for Fool’s Gold and a sign, Fool’s Gold Police.

A woman in her forties got out. She wore a uniform and sunglasses. The name tag read Police Chief Barns. Rafe was impressed. Dante hadn’t just made calls, he’d gone to the top.

Still clutching the goat, Heidi moved toward the woman. Heidi smiled, although her lips trembled, and despite his annoyance at her and the situation, he acknowledged she looked as innocent as a milkmaid. He glanced at the goat. Make that a goat maid.

“Police Chief Barns, I’m Heidi Simpson.”

“I know who you are.” The police chief pulled a smartphone out of her pocket and scrolled through the screen. “I’m looking for Rafe Stryker.”

“That’s me.” Rafe moved toward her. “Thank you for coming out here personally.”

“Your lawyer insisted.” The police chief didn’t sound pleased about the fact. “So, what’s going on?”

“Glen Simpson claimed to be selling the Castle Ranch to my mother for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. He took her money and gave her fraudulent documents to sign. He doesn’t have ownership of the land, never opened escrow and has spent the money. Despite his claims of wanting to work things out, he has no way of paying her back.”

May made a soft, distressed sound in the back of her throat. “My son is clear on the facts, but he’s leaving out an important point.”

“Which is?” Chief Barns asked.

“That there’s no need for this to involve you and the law.”

“I’d like to agree with you, ma’am, but your son here has filed an official complaint. I don’t suppose you can tell me that he has no legal claim on any of this? Am I getting my hopes up here for nothing?”

“I signed the documents, as well,” Rafe told her. Which was his own damn fault. “My mother may believe in Mr. Simpson’s innate goodness, but I do not.”

“He’s not a bad man,” Heidi insisted.

The police chief turned to Glen. “You have anything to say about this?”