Texas True (7 page)

“And you're wishing you could forget it.”

“It so happens that I've had the dubious pleasure of meeting her husband.” Unwilling to discuss the subject of Natalie any further, Beau switched the focus back on his brother. “You were never exactly a saint. So, tell me, Will, who's filling your bed since the divorce? Do you have a mistress tucked away somewhere? Or are there some desperate housewives in town, willing to put out for any man who'll leave some money on the dresser to help with all their past-due bills?”

But he didn't get the expected rise from his brother. “I'm glad to hear you're giving some serious thought to staying here at the ranch.”

Dumbfounded, Beau turned in his saddle to stare at his brother. “What the hell are you talking about? I never suggested any such thing.”

“Of course you did. Why else would you ask about the ready availability of sex in town?” Will countered.

“I wasn't talking about myself! I was talking about you,” Beau retorted, then added in a mutter, “Blanco Springs is the last place where I'd go looking for it.”

The small town was a place of few secrets. There was too much chance that Natalie would find out if he happened to sleep with a woman she knew.

Before Will could offer a reply, Beau sank spurs into his mount, sending it jumping forward. A young steer burst from a mesquite thicket. And Beau took off in pursuit.

 

Erin knelt in the straw, stroking the foal. His golden coat was velvety to the touch. His young muscles, growing stronger every day, quivered beneath her palm. In a few weeks he'd be big enough to run and play in the paddock.

“Tesoro.” His ear twitched as she whispered his name. “We're going to have so much fun together.”

Sky had told her that Tesoro needed to learn his name and get used to the sound of her voice. So Erin talked to the foal the whole time she was with him. When she ran out of things to say, she sang old cowboy songs that Jasper had taught her when she was little. Songs like “Red River Valley” and “Streets of Laredo.” Sometimes she sang the country and pop songs her school friends preferred. But Tesoro seemed to like the old songs best.

His silky muzzle nudged her arm. Sensing what he wanted, she scratched behind his ears. Lupita raised her head, glanced at her baby, then went back to munching hay.

Erin dreaded tomorrow night when her mother would come to drive her back to town for school the next day. Foals grew up so fast. Tesoro would be bigger and more active when she came back next weekend. Would he still remember her?

The barn was quiet except for the soft horse sounds and the muted shovel-scrape of someone cleaning the stalls at the far end of the barn. Jasper sat on a wooden chair with the dog curled in the straw at his feet. The old man's eyes were closed, but Erin knew it wouldn't take much to snap him out of his doze. He was alert to everything around him.

As if her thoughts woke him, he opened his eyes and stirred, looking a mite uncomfortable. “Are you okay, Jasper?” she asked him.

He looked mildly embarrassed. “Fine, honey. But my rusty old plumbing's not what it used to be. I need to find a restroom.”

“Go on. I'll be fine,” she said.

“No, I promised your dad I wouldn't leave you alone. Come on out of the stall till I get back.”

“Just let me stay here,” Erin said. “My dad's an old fussbudget. I'll be fine.”

“Don't ask me to break a promise, girl.” Jasper pushed to his feet. “If you want to stay, I'll find somebody else. Lute,” he called, opening the stall gate and stepping out. “Get on down here for a minute?”

A dark, skinny young fellow in a ragged blue T-shirt sauntered into Erin's view. “What's up, old man?”

“Not much. I need a break and Will doesn't want this young lady left alone in the stall. Could you spell me for a few minutes?”

“Sure. I could use a rest.” He sank onto the chair as Jasper hobbled toward the barn door. He had sharp, black eyes like a bird's, and his worn leather gloves looked too big for his thin wrists. “Hi, I'm Lute,” he said.

“I'm Erin.” Her gaze sized him up. He looked old enough to be out of school, but not by much. “Do you work for my dad?”

“That's what I'm doing here, working.” He spat out the last word as if he'd just bitten into a bad strawberry. “Sky gave me this so-called job. He's my cousin.”

“Oh.” Erin shifted to face him, interested in learning more. “Sky never talks about his family. I didn't know he had any.”

“Sky's mother was my dad's sister. She died when he was little, and our family raised him. So he's almost like my big brother.”

“What happened to his father?”

Lute shrugged his bony shoulders. “Who knows? He was just some white jerk who knocked her up. That's why Sky's got blue eyes. But he's mostly Comanche, like me.”

“Oh.” The young man did look something like Sky, Erin thought. But he was darker, his build smaller and more wiry, his features narrower.

His gaze had wandered to Tesoro. “That's a fine-looking foal,” he said.

“He's going to be my horse.” Erin laid a possessive hand on her foal's back. “Sky's already helping me train him. It's called imprinting. That's what I'm doing here.”

“Sky's an important man on this ranch, isn't he?”

“My dad says he's the best horse trainer in Texas. That's why cow ponies raised on our ranch are worth so much money. And that's why we're getting more colts for him to train, so we can sell them.”

Lute raised one jet-black eyebrow. “I hadn't heard that. Maybe Sky will give me a better job when those colts get here. I'm good with horses, too. When's it supposed to happen?”

“This spring, after the roundup, we'll be building extra pens. As soon as that's done, Sky can bring in the horses he wants and work with them over the summer.”

“He's going to need some help. Maybe you can put in a good word for me.” He rose, glancing back toward the barn door. “I see our old friend Jasper's coming back, so I'll get back to work. Nice talking to you, Miss Erin Tyler. Maybe we can talk again.”

“Maybe so. Thanks for keeping me company, Lute.”

“See you around.” He opened the gate for Jasper and left. As he ambled away, Erin saw him take a cell phone out of his pocket, flip it open, and punch in a number.

S
lad Haskell slid out the back door of his red club-cab pickup. While his fingers tossed the condom and stuffed his privates back in his jeans, his eyes scanned the shadowy parking lot behind the Blue Coyote. Not that he was worried. The hour was late, the two remaining cars empty. Nobody was looking. And even if they were, what the hell. Everybody in town knew that Jess was a whore.

As his zipper closed with a satisfying
snick
, she came around the truck, pulling her little denim skirt down over her thighs. He had her usual payment ready—the small packet of white powder that he slipped out of his pocket and down the neck of her blouse. Whether she meant to resell it or snort it herself didn't matter, as long as she knew better than to tell anybody where it came from. Stella would likely guess if she saw it. But Stella wouldn't care as long as the girl kept her mouth shut.

As Jess trailed back into the bar, Slade pulled out of the parking lot, drove onto a side street, and stopped long enough to turn on the dome light and inspect the backseat for evidence. Finding none, he made a U-turn and headed for home.

He'd come back an hour early from a run to Lubbock to arrange a feed-hauling contract. Since Natalie wasn't expecting him till later, and since he'd told her not to wait up, Slade figured he was covered. With luck, when he walked in from the garage, his wife would be deep in clueless sleep.

Damned good woman, Natalie. Her work paid the household bills and balanced the ups and downs of the trucking business, allowing him to stash what he made on the side in a Lubbock bank. She was a looker, too, and sexy as hell. Slade would castrate any male who so much as breathed on her. But he'd never been a one-woman man, and marriage hadn't changed that. As long as he came home to his wife at night, what difference did it make?

He was pulling up to the house when he remembered that he hadn't checked his cell phone messages. Letting the truck idle, he took a moment. There were two voice mails from the Indian kid at the Tylers. The first one let him know they'd be getting extra colts to break over the summer. Maybe some possibilities there, and the kid seemed eager to please. If he proved reliable, it might be worth trying him on bigger things.

The second message triggered a spasm in his gut. Evidently Beau Tyler, who'd promised to be back in Washington by now, was still at the ranch helping with the roundup.

Did Natalie know? Had he contacted her? So help him, if she'd been with that bastard again . . .

Seething, Slade punched the remote and waited for the garage door to open. If Tyler had so much as phoned her, he would punch that smug, too-handsome face of his to a bloody pulp. As for Natalie . . .

The door cranked to a stop. The truck's headlights shone into an empty garage.

Natalie's white Toyota was gone.

 

Natalie turned the country radio station up full blast and willed herself to stay awake for a few more miles. She should have taken the Lindfords up on the thermos of coffee they'd offered to send with her. By the time their mare had delivered twin foals, she was dead on her feet, and the fifteen-mile drive home on back roads seemed more like a hundred.

It was almost 2:00 a.m., later than she'd planned to be gone. She'd thought of calling Slade. But she'd left him a note on the kitchen table. If he was home by now, he'd be asleep. It didn't make sense to wake him.

A jackrabbit bounded across the two-lane road ahead of her. She tapped the brake, ensuring the animal a clean getaway. Even rabbits deserved a happy life, she mused groggily.

She'd resolved not to think about Beau, but she was too tired to keep her thoughts from wandering. It was even later in Washington, D.C., than it was here in Texas. Was he asleep? Was he alone? She knew little about his life back East, but she couldn't imagine Beau having any trouble getting women—smart, sophisticated, beautiful women—into his bed. Natalie had no cause to envy them, but, heaven help her, she did. She and Beau had grown up together. They had given each other the gift of their innocence. He belonged to her in a way that he would never belong to anyone else.

The same way she belonged to him.

The memory stole through her like the scent of a pressed rose in a long-forgotten book. They'd been sixteen that summer evening, riding their horses up the canyon to a spot where a spring formed a pool in the rocks. They hadn't planned on going alone, but Tori had been commandeered to babysit at the last minute, leaving them to go without her. Beau had been herding cows on the ranch all day, and Natalie had been helping her grandfather paint his barn. Both of them were sweaty and tired. The water in the canyon was too cold for a swim, but the idea of a cool evening ride sounded like heaven.

Dressed in faded T-shirts and ragged cutoff jeans, they'd tethered their horses in the trees and climbed the narrow path up the rocks to the waterfall. On a grassy spot by the pool, they'd sprawled on their backs to gaze up at the river of sky above the steep canyon walls. The dying sun had streaked the clouds with violet and indigo and sculpted purple shadows in the recesses of the vermilion cliffs. A single star glimmered in the deepening sky.

On the trail they'd chatted—commonplace, easy talk about school and friends. But now they lay still in the twilight, listening to the splash of water and the faraway call of a coyote. Natalie could hear the sound of his breathing. Her body tingled with sensations she couldn't even name.

Until now they'd shared no more than a few playful kisses. But Natalie had loved him for as long as she could remember. At night she lay burning in her bed, daring to touch herself as she imagined his strong, golden body and the forbidden things that body could do. In spite of every well-meant warning she'd ever heard, she'd known that if Beau reached out for her, she would be his in a heartbeat.

That night, with scarcely a word, it had simply happened. They'd been lying a hand's breadth apart, their awareness of each other deepening to an ache. Natalie had turned on her side to find him looking at her, his eyes wells of raw need.

Lifting her hand, she'd stroked a fingertip down his cheek and along the edge of his lower lip. He'd moaned, taking her finger into his mouth and brushing it with his tongue. The urges that simple contact awakened had been too powerful to resist. Even as his arms reached out to pull her close, she'd understood what was going to happen, and she'd wanted it.

Softening her hips against his pelvis, she'd felt the long bulge of his erection like a solid log through his jeans. He'd been ready for her before she ever touched him, she realized. Knowing that he'd wanted her as much as she wanted him gave her a rush of courage. Taking his hand, she slid it under the hem of her T-shirt.

The day had been too hot for a bra. She'd felt his fingers tremble as they slid up her ribs and over her bare breast. The shimmering wave of pleasure was so intense it made her gasp. She arched her rib cage upward, her body begging for more. He stroked and caressed, growing bolder as he teased her nipples, feeling them shrink and harden at his touch. The low rasp of his breath quickened as his palm glided down her belly to the waistband of her shorts.

Was this his first time, too? She'd wanted it to be, but how could she be sure when there were girls with reputations who'd be more than willing to initiate a handsome boy like Beau?

Forcing the useless thought away, she'd reached down and managed to unsnap his jeans and slide his zipper open. There was nothing underneath but him, soft baby skin over tempered steel. Instinctively her fingers had circled his shaft. He'd groaned, his body stiffening as they tightened.

“Natalie—”

“Yes.” The word had hissed between her lips. “Yes, Beau.”

He was breathing hard now, muttering little curses under his breath as he fumbled with her shorts, gave up on the fastener, and simply yanked them off her hips. No experienced boy would have been so flustered. She'd loved him all the more for that.

Panting like a long-distance runner, he'd found her entrance, hesitated an instant, then shoved in. Slick as she was, she'd barely felt the brief tearing of her membranes. The pain was nothing compared to the thrill of feeling him inside her, moving, thrusting, both of them reeling in a world of new sensations.

Natalie swung the SUV onto the main highway to town. Her relationship with Beau had been over a long time ago, she reminded herself. They'd been two foolish children back then, crossing forbidden boundaries and making promises they could never keep. He had a different life now, in a different place. She had a husband, and she was on her way home to him. Nothing else was real anymore. Nothing else could be allowed to matter.

She would never see Beau Tyler again.

 

By the time she turned into the driveway and raised the garage door, it was all she could do to keep her eyes open. Slade's pickup was parked in its spot. Good. He'd made it safely home. With luck he'd be asleep. She could collapse onto her side of the bed and pass out till morning.

Closing the garage, she entered the house through the doorway that connected to the kitchen. The 15-watt light above the stove was on, casting the room into dim shadow. Slade was sitting at the kitchen table, a can of his favorite lager in one hand.

“It's about time you got home.” His gritty voice oozed sarcasm. “Want to tell me where you've been?”

Please, not tonight.
Stifling a groan, Natalie dropped her medical bag on a chair. “I was at the Lindfords. Didn't you see the note I left you?”

“Oh, I saw it, all right,” he drawled. “The question is, was it true?”

“What kind of silly game are you playing, Slade?” Natalie was too tired to be patient. “I was at the Lindfords' place for hours. Their mare was having twins. It was touch and go the whole time. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm exhausted. I'm going to bed.” She spun away, heading down the hall toward the bedroom.

“Not so fast, you lying bitch.”

His words stopped her like a brick wall. Slade had a nasty streak of temper, but he'd never used those words with her before. Steeling herself against the hurt, she turned slowly back to face him. She hadn't done anything to deserve this, and she didn't have to take it.

Every word she spoke felt chiseled out of ice. “Don't you ever call me that again. I'm not lying. I've been working all night.”

His fist crushed the empty beer can and tossed it toward the trash. Missing the mark, it clattered across the linoleum. “You expect me to believe you haven't been with Beau Tyler?”

His question sucked the air out of her. She struggled for breath. “What's the matter with you? Beau's gone. He left for Washington three days ago.”

“That's not what I heard.” Slade folded his arms across his muscular chest, looking so smug that she wanted to fly at him and claw the smirk off his face. “A friend told me he stuck around to help with the roundup. Maybe he stuck around for a little bit of something else, too. What've you got to say about that?”

Natalie felt herself crumbling. Blinking away furious tears, she held herself rigidly erect. She couldn't let him see how his news had affected her.

“Even if I had known, it wouldn't have made any difference. I was at the Lindfords'. If you don't believe me, call and ask them. Make up some excuse—like maybe I lost my watch and want to know if they found it. Or maybe I'm not back yet, and you're worried. Right now I'm so tired I don't care what you do—or what you believe. If you have anything left to say, we can talk in the morning.”

She turned away and headed down the hall, praying he wouldn't follow her. She didn't want to make up. She didn't even want to be touched. All she wanted was to be left alone.

“I'm going downstairs to watch wrestling,” he called after her, and she almost melted with relief. “But hear this, lady. Nobody lays a hand on my wife. If that bastard Tyler comes anywhere near you, so help me, I'll kill him!”

 

On Sundays, when Tori came to pick up her daughter, she was expected to stay for dinner. Awkward as it sometimes felt, she tolerated the time-honored custom because it gave Erin a sense of family. It also helped Tori keep abreast of happenings on the ranch. Anything that might affect Erin was a concern to her.

Tonight the main dish was roast wild turkey, which Jasper had shot from the ATV he used to get around the ranch. The old man might not be able to ride a horse anymore, but his distance vision was still good and he could handle a gun with the best.

Over the years, the line between the Tylers and their longtime staff had faded. Jasper, as usual, had joined them at the table. Bernice, too, would take her place once the food was served. Sometimes Sky dined with them, but mostly he seemed to be busy elsewhere. Or maybe it was just that he preferred a peaceful meal in his side of the brick duplex he shared with Jasper. Conversations at the Tylers' table could get pretty dramatic.

Since it was a family occasion, they joined hands while Jasper said grace. As he rambled on, Tori caught herself peering at the circle of familiar faces from beneath her half-lowered eyelashes.

Erin's freshly scrubbed features revealed glimpses of the beautiful woman she would become one day. And her body . . . Tori felt a gnawing panic as she realized her daughter's little breasts were already budding beneath her pink T-shirt. When had that happened? It was time to shop for a training bra.

Jasper and Bernice were getting older, too. Now that Bull was gone, they were the only remaining links to the past, the keepers of memory and the keepers of secrets. More secrets, Tori sensed, than anyone in the family suspected.

Wise, cynical Beau, he was the closest thing to a brother that Tori, an only child, had ever known.

In their teen years, he'd been her confidant, her shoulder to cry on when Will ignored her. Then Natalie had come along. Tori had once believed that Natalie and Beau would live happily ever after. But sad experience had taught her that fairy-tale endings were just that—fairy tales.