Texas Tough (25 page)

“Did Bull know what was in the letter?” Sky was still struggling to wrap his mind around what he'd just heard.

“Ferg wouldn't tell him. He just hinted that it could do some damage if it came out. Bull would've done anything to keep his boys from bein' hurt, and he was plumb frantic to know why your mother had left. In the end he gave in to Ferg's blackmail and signed over the land. I signed as witness to the contract Ferg drew up. That's how I know all this.”

“Did you ever read the letter?” Sky asked.

The old man nodded. “Bull showed it to me before he burned it. Said he wanted somebody else to know, in case somethin' ever happened to him. He made me swear I'd never tell his boys or anybody else. But now that he's gone, I can't help thinkin' he'd want you to hear this.”

“So what did it say?”

“About what you'd guess. Your mother was in a family way. But she was a proud woman. She knew how people would talk if Bull married her, and how they'd treat her and their children. She didn't want to put him and his family through that kind of shame. She made it clear that Bull wasn't to come after her or to ever try and get in touch with her. But she told him not to worry, their child would be raised with love.” Jasper gave a slight shrug of his bony shoulders. “That's about all I remember.”

“So Bull just let her go?”

“Your father was a better man than that. He hired a private detective—gave the man a letter sealed in an envelope, with a check made out to her, for fifty thousand dollars. The detective was to give it to her when he found her. The detective came back a couple weeks later, said he hadn't found her so he'd left the letter with her brother. The man had promised to give it to his sister.”

Sky groaned out loud. “I'll bet that check was cashed, wasn't it? With a signature on the back that looked exactly like my mother's.”

Now it was Jasper's turn to look stunned. “I saw the cancelled check myself. The handwriting on the back looked just the way I remembered from her letter. When she didn't answer the letter or even send a note to thank him for the money, Bull had to accept that it was over between them. He never tried to contact her again.”

“My uncle was a thief and his wife was a master forger,” Sky said. “I can guarantee my mother never saw the letter or a cent of that money.”

“So those were the two buzzards that gave birth to Lute and to the rascals that shot me.” Jasper shook his head. “It all makes sense now. But to cash a big check like that at a bank—wouldn't somebody have to show their ID?”

“My aunt could fake anything. Believe me, ID would have been no problem. I'd guess she opened an account as my mother, deposited the check, and then took the cash out.”

The two men sat gazing toward the seep. Sky's thoughts were focused inward on the story he'd just heard. It was still sinking in, the way things had happened. At least he knew that Bull had loved his mother and that he'd tried to do right by her. But Sky couldn't help wondering about the paths not followed. Would Bull have married his Marie if she hadn't left him? Or, if her brother hadn't stolen the letter and the fifty thousand dollars, would his own life have been different?

Sky had few memories of his mother. But when he'd run away at fifteen, he'd recalled her mentioning Blanco Springs and the Rimrock, so that was where he'd headed. Bull Tyler had taken one look at him, asked about his parents, and hired the scrawny, ragged teen as a stable hand. Bull would have known who he was from the first day. But in life he'd never acknowledged his secret son nor shown him the slightest affection. Now, at least, Sky could begin to understand his reasons.

The question that remained was the most urgent one of all. Was what he'd learned enough to justify his asking Lauren to be his wife?

A jab from Jasper's elbow jerked Sky's attention back to the seep. There, strolling out of the scrub within easy range, was a big Tom turkey with his harem of three hens.

Jasper raised the shotgun. Too late Sky remembered that his weapon fired a heftier load than the gun the old man had lost; and when fired, it packed a nasty recoil. They should have taken a few practice shots back at the house so Jasper would know what to expect. Now the birds were here, and it was too late to speak up without spoiling the shot.

Sky had made up his mind to keep quiet when he noticed something. Jasper had the gun stock braced against his shoulder, near the spot where he'd been wounded. The kick from the shotgun would not only hurt, but it might damage healing flesh.

“Stop,” he said softly, putting a hand on Jasper's arm. But he was too late. Jasper's finger was already tightening on the trigger. The shotgun roared, the recoil from the blast punching him back against the seat. His yelp of pain was followed by a string of curses as the turkeys scattered, unharmed, into the air.

“Tarnation, that hurt.” He clutched at his shoulder.

“Sorry, I should've warned you,” Sky said. “I forgot how hard that gun can kick. Are you okay?”

“I'll live. And so will the damned turkeys, no thanks to—” He went silent, a blank look stealing across his face.

“Jasper, are you all right?”

The old cowboy managed to nod. His mouth worked as he tried to form his thoughts into words. “It's that burnt gunpowder smell . . . and the shot, and the pain in my shoulder. Lord, Sky, I remember it all, clear as day! I remember what I saw out here!”

“Calm down and think.” Sky's own pulse was racing. “You saw the man who shot you.”

“Plain as I see you,” Jasper said. “Tall, thin, long, black hair. Only it wasn't a man. It was a woman.”

“You're sure?”

“I may be an old duffer, but I know a female when I see one. She had on a black shirt that showed her figure some, and she had a scar on her face.”

“Think.” Sky forced himself to speak calmly. “When she shot you, could it have been an accident? Could she have been trying to shoot over your head and warn you off?”

Jasper shook his head. “No way in hell. She was lookin' right down that barrel at me. Woulda hit me in the heart if I hadn't gone over a little dip. I swear it, Sky. I don't have a doubt in my mind that woman meant to kill me!”

The gunshot had spooked every bird within a half mile of the seep. “I'm afraid hunting's over for the day,” Sky said. “We'll go again soon, I promise. But right now I want to get back and tell Will and Beau what you saw.”

“I'd rather be goin' back with a turkey if it's all the same to you.” Jasper was still sour about the missed shot. He muttered and grumbled all the way back to the house.

Beau and Will were eating breakfast when they arrived. “Pull up a chair and join us,” Will said. “There's plenty.”

While Sky and Jasper washed up, Bernice piled two plates with bacon, scrambled eggs, and hash browns and set them on the table. Sky could only hope that a good breakfast would improve Jasper's mood. As they ate, he filled Beau and Will in on what had happened and how the old cowboy had regained his memory of the shooting. Jasper chimed in to add details and answer questions. Sky could tell he was enjoying the attention.

“So it was Marie all along, and not Coy who did the shooting.” Will summed up what he'd heard.

“And I'm willing to bet she killed her brother so he wouldn't talk,” Beau said.

“That, and to frame Nigel so she could clear him and have Stella in her debt,” Sky added. “Marie's a clever woman.”

“And colder than a rattlesnake,” Will said. “After hearing this, I can imagine she's capable of anything.”

Sky put down his fork. “Beau, I know you wanted to give Marie more time in the hope of building a solid case and trapping Stella. But we've got photos of her boot prints at the seep and we've got Jasper as a witness to his own shooting. If nothing else, that should be enough to put her behind bars for attempted murder.” He glanced toward Jasper. “Our friend here deserves justice for what she did to him. I say we call the sheriff, tell him what we know, and have him arrest her.”

“That gets my vote,” Will said. “The sooner that woman's locked up, the better. Go ahead, Beau. Call him.”

“All right. I'll call him.” Beau stood, resistance showing in the tight set of his jaw. His expression was one Sky had come to recognize. It wasn't the decision to call Abner that rankled him. It was taking Will's constant orders. With the tension and worry brought on by the drought, both brothers were close to the snapping point. Sky could only hope the family—
his
family—could survive the blowup that was building like thunderheads before a summer storm.

Beau walked out onto the back porch to make the call. Sky could hear his voice through the screen door, but Sky couldn't make out what he was saying. Minutes later Beau walked back into the house, an impatient scowl on his face.

“I got Abner on his cell phone,” he said. “He's at a law enforcement conference in Austin, won't be back till Monday.”

“Can't he just have his deputies make the arrest?” Sky asked.

Beau shook his head. “I told him what we'd learned and what we suspected. But Abner wants to handle this business in person. With the election coming up, you can guess why. As long as Marie doesn't know we're on to her, he doesn't think it'll hurt to wait a few more days.”

“Abner's a fool,” Will said. “Anything could happen between now and the time he gets back.”

“Tell that to Abner.” Beau shrugged and sat down to finish his breakfast. “Why don't
you
call him? Maybe you'll have better luck than I did.”

Will didn't answer. The air between the two brothers crackled with tension. Sky didn't like it, but he knew better than to interfere. Trying to calm the pair would only make things worse.

And he had his own share of worries. He'd lost all sympathy for Marie. But there were other concerns—the horses that needed training, the evacuation plans in case of fire....

And there was Lauren. Lauren most of all.

 

On Friday afternoon Sky, who'd been working sixteen-hour days with the horses, took some needed time off to pick up Lauren at the hospital and stay with her. Will had invited her to recover at the ranch, but she asked Sky to pass on her thanks and insisted she'd rest better at home.

“That's fine,” Will told Sky over the phone. “But let her know she's expected here for Sunday dinner. The girl might as well know what she'll be in for if she decides to stick around.”

Now where had that come from? Sky wondered as the phone call ended. He'd tried to hide his plan to propose to Lauren, but if Will could read him so easily, the secret must be out.

Lauren's cracked ribs were still painful, the gash on her head stitched and bandaged with surgical tape. Sky had hoped she'd have the good sense to lie down and nap, but he should've known better. She spent most of the time going over the details of Monday's funeral—the program for the modest service, the grave in the family plot, which Sky planned to dig with the small backhoe borrowed from the Rimrock, the condition of the house and yard, and the catered buffet to be served after the burial. And she hadn't forgotten Storm Cloud. She wasn't well enough to ride, but she'd visited his stall to groom him and feed him a carrot.

Although flowers and cards were already pouring in, the gathering at the graveside wouldn't be a large one. Most of the senders, including the governor and the Texas congressional delegation, had sent sympathies and regrets. With an election coming up, nobody wanted to be seen or photographed at Garn Prescott's funeral. His campaign staff would likely be at the service in Lubbock, and some of the syndicate crew would drop by the house to pay their respects and sample the buffet. But it was sad to discover how few true friends the man had.

Bernice had sent over some lasagna and salad for supper. As the twilight deepened outside, Sky took the warmed casserole dish out of the oven and set two places at the dining room table and Lauren found another bottle of vintage wine in the cabinet.

Sky had yet to tell her the story of his parents. He'd meant to do it this afternoon, but the right moment hadn't come. As he helped Lauren with her chair, he realized there might never be a better time than now.

But how could he begin? He gazed at the lovely, impassive face in the photo above the table, as if silently asking for help.

“She was very beautiful, wasn't she?” Lauren said.

“She was my mother, Lauren.”

Lauren smiled. “I'd already guessed as much. You look so much like her, that dark coloring and those high cheekbones. But where did you get those deep blue eyes? That's what I'd like to know.”

Incredibly, she'd opened the way. Sky let the words flow, repeating everything Jasper had told him—his mother's affair with Bull Tyler, how she'd left Texas when she learned she was pregnant, and how Ferg Prescott, Lauren's own grandfather, had blackmailed Bull out of that canyon land. He told it all from awkward beginning to painful end, how his aunt and uncle had stolen the money Bull sent, and how his mother had died, leaving her son to grow up in a family of abusers and criminals. He told her how he'd run away at fifteen and come to the Rimrock, where the father who never acknowledged him in life had taken him in, given him work, and willed him his own piece of land.

When he'd finished, Sky waited in silence, half expecting her to be repelled by the sordid story—and by him, the illegitimate son of her grandfather's servant.

At last she spoke. “So Will and Beau don't know you're their brother.”