Texas Tough (The Tylers of Texas 2)

But concerns about the drought would have to wait. Right now what mattered most was Jasper’s life.

As Sky swung the pickup into a parking spot, a white Toyota Land Cruiser pulled up next to him. Beau’s fiancée, Natalie Haskell, flew out of the driver’s seat to join Sky on a fast walk to the waiting room. Doll-sized, she was dressed for her work as a vet in jeans and a tan cotton shirt.

“Beau said I didn’t need to come, but I couldn’t stay away. I’ve known Jasper all my life.” She brushed back her mop of dark curls. The diamond on her finger scattered rainbows where it caught the sunlight.

Sky didn’t reply as he held the door for her. There were no words for a time like this.

The small waiting room was crowded. Beau, who’d been awake all night and looked it, hurried forward to pull Natalie in his arms. The two held each other, taking and giving comfort.

Bernice, red-eyed and disheveled, huddled on a couch, needles clicking with each stitch of the brown afghan she was knitting. Will’s ex-wife, Tori, a willowy blonde, sat next to her with an arm around their twelve-year-old daughter, Erin. Tears stained the girl’s pretty, young face. Jasper was like a grandfather to her.

A wall-mounted television in the far corner was blaring an early-morning talk show, but no one in the room was paying it any heed. As he looked around for Will, Sky found himself wondering if the sheriff’s men had been here, or if the press had caught wind of the shooting. If Jasper didn’t make it, the authorities would be looking for a murderer.

Unshaven and haggard, Will stood alone by the window. Dark, blue-eyed, and muscular, he was the near image of his late father. Seeing Sky come in, Will crossed the room to join him.

For the past six years, since Bull Tyler’s paralysis in a riding accident, Will had run the Rimrock. After Bull’s recent death, Beau had come home for the funeral and stayed on as foreman, freeing Sky to manage the horses full time. But it had been Jasper’s deep knowledge of the ranch—the how and why of things—that had sustained them all. Much as Jasper would be missed by the ranch family, Sky suspected Will would miss him most.

“He’s down the left hallway. I’ll show you where.” Will opened the swinging doors that led from the waiting room to the ICU.

“Do we know who shot him?” Sky asked.

“Jasper says he didn’t see a soul. When the bullet hit, he lost control of the ATV, and that’s the last thing he remembers. The doctor thinks he may have a concussion.” Will’s lips tightened. “He’ll have an oxygen mask on, but he can take it off long enough to talk to you. Just make sure you don’t tire him.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make the visit a short one.” Sky had long since accepted Will’s need to manage things. Bull’s nature had been much the same.

Alone now, Sky opened the door to Jasper’s room and walked in. Propped in bed with a thin blanket covering his legs, the old man looked as frail as an ancient skeleton, ready to crumble at a touch. Monitors and IV lines formed a web around him, beeping and flashing. Anchored by a clip, a catheter bag hung over the side of the mattress.

Growing up among his Comanche mother’s people, Sky had learned to accept age and death as a natural process. To truss up an elder in such a way, denying him the dignity of a good death, struck him as demeaning. But who was he to question the wisdom of the doctors?

A plastic cup, supplying oxygen, covered Jasper’s nose and mouth. Above it, his pale eyes were open and surprisingly alert. One hand gestured feebly toward the oxygen mask, signaling that he wanted Sky to move it aside—easily done, since it was held in place by a strip of soft elastic.

“Isn’t this a pickle? For two cents I’d yank off all this fancy rigging and walk out of here.” Jasper’s voice was weak. Will had been right about not tiring the old man. Every word seemed to cost him strength.

“Will said you wanted to see me,” Sky said. “I got here as soon as I could.”

“Thanks. Feelin’ like hell. If the good Lord’s ready to take me, I’m willin’ to go. But I won’t rest easy till I’ve told you a secret—” Jasper’s voice dropped to a labored breath. “A secret I’ve kept all your life.”

“You need to rest, Jasper.” Why did Sky feel that he was about to hear something he was better off not knowing? “The secret can wait.”

“No. You deserve the truth. And I’m the only one left who knows to tell you.” Jasper’s gaze flickered toward the open door. “Close it,” he rasped.

Sky closed the door and returned to the bed. Jasper seemed to be struggling to breathe. Sky touched the oxygen mask in a silent question. The old man shook his head. “This won’t take long,” he said. “Lean closer.... That’s better. You never knew about your father, did you, boy?”

“Only that he was white. And that he wouldn’t marry my mother.”

“Listen, then.” Jasper was fighting to breathe. “I swear this is God’s truth. Your father was Bull Tyler.”

CHAPTER 2

Leaving Jasper in the care of a nurse, Sky walked back down the hall toward the waiting area. He passed through the swinging double doors into a roomful of strangers—Will and Beau, his half brothers; Erin, his niece; Tori and Natalie, his once and future sisters-in-law.

None of them knew the truth, of course. And he would never tell them—Sky had made that decision by the time he left Jasper’s hospital room. Life would go on exactly as before. But whether he liked it or not, he would be looking at the family through different eyes. Tyler eyes.

“You’re leaving?” Beau stopped him on his way to the outside door.

“Somebody needs to look after the ranch, and I can’t be much help here. Keep me posted on how Jasper’s doing.” Sky turned aside. Right now all he wanted was to get away and so

rt things out for himself.