Texas Tall (17 page)

Seeing her with the man today had damn near killed him. He'd managed to keep a civil tongue, but it had been all he could do to keep from smashing his fist into that smug, pretty-boy face. Drew Middleton was well-educated, as was Tori. He probably had more interesting things to talk about than horses and cattle and the coming weather. The fancy bastard probably knew his way around the bedroom, too.

Will cursed under his breath. Why was he torturing himself like this? He had more pressing worries than holding on to his woman—not that she was his anymore. Legally, she hadn't been his for eight years—and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about that.

His jaw tightened as he gazed down at her, holding back emotions he had no right to feel. He ached to lean down and taste those plum-ripe lips in the secret hope they would soften to his kisses; but no, that wouldn't be smart. If she pushed him away, he wouldn't be able to stand it.

He settled for lifting the woolen afghan off the back of the sofa, unfolding it, and laying it gently over her body. As it settled into place, she whimpered, stirred, and opened her eyes.

Will's heart dropped for an instant. “Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you,” he said.

“Did you . . . need something, Will?” Her voice sounded muzzy, the way he remembered from those long-ago mornings when they'd awakened early to make love before starting the day.

He shook his head. “I just wanted you to be warm. Go back to sleep.”

“No . . . 's all right,” she muttered, sitting up. “I was out cold. What time is it? Is Erin back?”

“It's almost four, and no, she's not back.” Will hesitated, knowing he should keep silent, but needing to clear the air. “About today—”

“Drew's a friend. He says he'd like to be more than that, but I've told him I need to focus on the trial for now.”

“So you still haven't slept with him?” Will could have bitten his tongue off, but it was too late to take back the question.

Tori raked back her hair, tightening the fabric of her blouse over one breast. Will cursed himself silently for noticing.

“Not that it's any of your business,” she said, “but no, I still haven't. This is no time for a heavy relationship, especially since I've got Erin to think about.” She stood, tucking her blouse into her jeans. “Trust me on this. Whatever happens, in the end, I'll do what's best for our daughter.”

“Does that include moving back to the ranch?”

“Don't push me, Will. I said I'd think about it.”

“It's what Erin wants. She told me.”

“So you've been lobbying her behind my back?” Annoyance sparked a fire in her eyes.

“You know I wouldn't do that. Erin was the one who brought it up to me.”

Tori's shoulders sagged. She shook her head. “Anyway, it isn't going to matter, because I'm going to win your case. When that's behind us, the rest will fall into place.”

“With you, me, Erin, and what's-his-name. Right?” Will knew better, but he couldn't resist the jab.

“Don't make this any harder than it is,” she said in a flat voice. “Just don't.”

Her face was close to his, her gaze coldly defiant. Will fought the urge to seize her in his arms and kiss away all the anger, all the bitterness between them. But something told him it would take a lot more than kissing to accomplish that.

The tension was broken by the sound of footsteps and voices across the porch. An instant later, Natalie, Beau, and Erin burst inside.

“Hi, Mom,” Erin said. “I thought you were staying in town.”

“I changed my mind,” Tori said, causing Will to wonder if she'd changed plans because he would have known she was with Middleton.

“How's Sky?” he asked.

“Mending,” Beau said. “But he's not happy about being out of action when he's needed here. I did have some news for him. You'll be interested, too.” He'd brought a folded newspaper inside. Laying it on the coffee table, he opened it to the regional news page.

“Right here. I bought a paper in the hospital gift shop and just happened to see this.” He pointed to a brief article accompanied by a grainy news photo. The headline read,
WOMAN WANTED FOR ARMED ROBBERY.

Will scanned the short paragraph that began,
The robber of a Wichita Falls pharmacy has been identified as Marie Fletcher, shown in the above surveillance photo. Anyone knowing this woman's whereabouts . . .

Will studied the blurred photo. The long-legged figure shown at the pharmacy counter was wearing a hooded sweatshirt and a baseball cap. But she'd happened to glance up at the wrong moment. The camera had caught the long, sharp face, the fierce dark eyes, and the white slash of a scar from temple to chin. It was Marie, all right.

“So Sky's cousin is up to her old tricks,” Will muttered, handing the paper back to Beau. “Looks like she might've been a little careless this time. You say you showed this to Sky?”

“I did. Sky said he'd washed his hands of her. Can't say I blame him after the woman shot Jasper, likely murdered her own brother, and damn near killed Lauren. I just hope she ends up behind bars, where she belongs.”

“Even with all that, I can't help feeling sorry for her,” Natalie said. “What chance did she have, growing up in that horrible family, and then having her ex-husband slash her face?”

“Sky grew up in the same family, and he's got his own scars,” Beau said. “Everybody has choices. Marie made hers.”

“Hey, I smell something good!” Erin dashed toward the kitchen doorway, where Bernice had just appeared. “Is it brownies?”

“It is, honey,” Bernice said. “I just took a batch out of the oven and iced them. I can already hear Jasper at the back door. He's got a nose like an old coyote! Who else is hungry?”

“Me!” Erin bounded into the kitchen.

“Me too,” Beau said. “But I'll have to grab one and eat on the run. I've got to get back to work.”

“Count me in,” Natalie said, laughing. “After all, I'm eating for two! How about you, Tori?”

“Sure. I . . . didn't eat much lunch.” She moved toward the kitchen, paused, then turned back. “Will? Are you coming?”

Will hesitated, then shook his head and turned away. One more memory of the family gathered around the kitchen table, talking and laughing, would be enough to break him. In his mind he was already distancing himself from the things he loved—the things that, days from now, if the trial went badly, would no longer be part of his life.

* * *

Ralph Jackson's funeral took place the following Monday afternoon in the Community Church on the outskirts of town. Glancing back from his seat in the front pew, Abner experienced a rare sense of satisfaction. The small chapel was filled to the doors. Bethel's friends in the congregation had come to support her, which was to be expected. But what pleased him most was that the back rows were filled by folks from the Rimrock.

True, Abner wasn't on friendly terms with the Tylers. But according to custom, when a family death occurred, differences were put aside long enough to pay respects. Will Tyler, looking drawn and restless, was seated on the aisle, with his young daughter beside him. No sign of Tori, but someone had mentioned she was in court today. Beau was there with Natalie. Sky, still looking raw around the edges, had come with the Prescott girl. Even Jasper was there, wearing a twenty-year-old brown suit that was too big for his age-shrunken body. The row behind them was filled with cowhands who'd worked with Ralph.

All in all, it's a nice turnout. Really nice,
Abner thought. And the medical examiner had been thoughtful enough to release the body for a timely funeral. Ralph's death had been ruled a tragic accident, a consequence of his trying to save the Tylers' horses. By now, the burnt truck had been found. The evidence showed it had been stolen and vandalized, probably by a teenage gang. Thanks to Abner, no one would ever know the truth about Ralph—except maybe Stella, who had every reason to keep it to herself.

Abner's family filled the entire front pew of the little church. Bethel sat beside him, putting on a good show of grief for a woman who'd detested her son-in-law. Vonda, in black, wept quietly as she soothed her baby. She was still a pretty girl—pretty enough, hopefully, to find a better husband than Ralph had been. Next to Vonda, the other Sweeney children sat in descending order, like steps. Even the younger ones were awed into silence by the occasion. They sat with their arms folded, and their feet, in hand-me-down shoes, dangling from the bench.

The Tylers' insurance had paid for the funeral. It would also pay out a handsome benefit to Vonda and her child; and Ralph would go down in memory as the hero who'd sacrificed his life for his employer's horses. Abner smiled to himself.
All in all, things could be worse.

Sometimes the ends really did justify the means.

* * *

Will had given the men who'd known Ralph a couple of hours off to attend the service, but no time to socialize afterward. The work on the barn couldn't wait any longer. By now, the rubble had been cleared off the foundation, and, with the help of Sky's construction crew, the walls were being framed. So far, the cold, dry weather had held. But nobody had forgotten the norther that had frozen the pastures and paralyzed the ranch for days. Another storm could blow in at any time.

Will had driven his pickup to the funeral, with Jasper riding shotgun and Sky, Lauren, and Erin crowded into the backseat. Now, as they turned off the main road and onto the gravel drive that led up to the house, Will remembered Lauren's invitation. Last night she'd announced that she had a surprise to show him, something that had to be seen by daylight—something that couldn't wait.

There'd been no need to explain. Today was Monday. With the trial on Wednesday, and so many things left undone, Will's time was running out.

Pressed by the need to get the barn up, Will had tried to put her off. But Lauren had been insistent. Sky, newly home from the hospital, had backed her. So had Jasper, who seemed to know more than he was telling. “It's a damned conspiracy,” Will groused. But he couldn't help being intrigued. Something was up—and there was only one way to find out what it was.

Half an hour later, they'd changed out of their funeral clothes and met again on the porch, wearing warm coats, gloves, and hats. Jasper was tired after the funeral, and Sky was under doctor's orders to rest, so the two of them wouldn't be going along. But Beau had gotten wind of the adventure and declared himself in. He'd even offered to drive the secondhand Kawasaki four-seater UTV that Will had bought at auction last year, when the ranch was flush. The big, rugged four-wheeler had already been put up for sale. All the more reason to use it while they still could.

Will waited on the porch with his daughter and Lauren while Beau found the open-topped vehicle in the shed, started it up, and brought it around to the front of the house. Minutes later, they'd left the heart of the ranch and were rolling across the scrub-dotted flat toward the foothills that rimmed the escarpment.

Seated next to Beau on the front passenger seat, Will found himself savoring the sunlight on his face, the cold wind biting his skin, the smells of sage and earth, and the faint, distant ring of hammers. The ice storm had blasted the landscape, leaving behind a frost-bleached wilderness. But even here there was life. Clumps of sage and cedar, impervious to the cold, still held their muted autumn colors. Jackrabbits bounded ahead of the massive tires, zigzagging off into the brush when they wearied of the game. A ground squirrel, less bold, flashed across the trail and darted into its hole.

The late-day sun blazed above the caprock. A golden eagle flapped off its kill to circle upward on wings as broad as a tall man's reach. Will's senses embraced all these things, holding them in memory, to keep for when he needed a place for his mind to go.

The vehicle's engine drowned out any attempt at conversation. Only when Beau turned onto a familiar trail did Will realize where they were headed. This was the way to the petroglyph canyon, with its bitterly disputed side-branch and rumored Spanish gold.

His pulse quickened as Beau parked at the mouth of the canyon, where the trail ended. From here the only way to go was on foot. It had occurred to him that Lauren might be planning to deed her land back to the Rimrock. But she could've done that at the ranch. Why drag him clear out here on a frigid and busy day?

They climbed out of the vehicle and trudged single file up the narrow, rocky path. Erin was walking just ahead of him. Will touched her shoulder. “What's this all about?” he asked her. “Did you and Lauren find the Spanish gold?”

“Not really. You'll see.” With a toss of her ponytail, she strode ahead, following Beau and Lauren.

In the sheltered petroglyph canyon, the sound of trickling water echoed off the high walls. A covey of quail, drinking at the spring, whirred away at their approach.

Silent now, they turned aside and followed the water's path upward to the level of the smaller canyon. There they stopped. “This is what I wanted to show you,” Lauren said.

The canyon, which Will hadn't visited since his boyhood, was much as he remembered. But in one place, where heavy scree had fallen down from the overhead cliff, something was different. In one spot the rocks had been cemented together to form a wall, about four feet wide and just as high. In its center was a marker of polished granite, with an inscription etched into its surface.