Texas Tough (The Tylers of Texas 2)

“Thanks, I’ll plan on it,” Sky said. “And tell Jasper I’ll stop by and see him tomorrow.”

After Will ended the call, Sky stood by the paddock fence studying the colts. He could learn a lot just from watching them—which ones were bold, which ones were docile, which ones were light on their feet . . . Knowing each horse was essential to training. Most days he had no trouble staying focused on his work. But today was different.

Your father was Bull Tyler.

Jasper’s words burned like a fresh brand, still smoking from the iron. When he saw the old man again, should he ask for more details? Or would he be wiser to let those secrets stay buried for good?

Beau and Will drove in around six, bone tired but in good spirits. Jasper was doing better. The bullet wound had missed his vital organs, and his pneumonia was responding to treatment. If he continued to improve, the doctors would let him go home sometime next week.

“Did the sheriff come by?” Sky asked as Beau slid the pizzas into the oven to reheat them.

“Acting Sheriff Sweeney showed up this afternoon.” Will fished three cold Tecates out of the fridge and popped the tab on one of them. “He asked Jasper a few questions and took the slug as evidence—from what I could tell it looked like a 32-20 from one of those old lever action rifles. I told him about the tire tracks and cigarette butts I’d found on ranch property, but all I got from him was one of those blank looks. Hell, I don’t even know if he recognized the bullet.”

“Abner Sweeney isn’t exactly the brightest bulb in the pack,” Beau said. “Axelrod may have ended up a crook and a murderer, but at least he wasn’t stupid. He caught some bad hombres over the years, before he crossed the line.”

Sky nodded his agreement. Sweeney, a former deputy, had been appointed to replace longtime sheriff Hoyt Axelrod, who was awaiting trial for multiple murders—including the deaths of Natalie’s estranged husband, Slade, and Sky’s young cousin, Lute. Axelrod had shot Sky as well and nearly killed him. The wound, from a high-powered sniper rifle, had left a scar that still throbbed after too many hours in the saddle.

If convicted, Axelrod could face the death penalty. But there were rumors that he might take a plea deal—a life sentence in exchange for what he knew about organized crime activities in the county. Not that a man with Axelrod’s law enforcement background could expect to live long in a Texas prison.

“I hear Sweeney’s running for the permanent job this fall,” Will said. “My vote’s going to whoever runs against him.”

“Sweeney and Garn Prescott. The cream of our fair county’s political crop.” Beau took his beer and wandered into the office. He came out a moment later with something in his hand. “Looks like Lauren was here,” he said. “I recognize this little gold earring of hers. What I can’t figure out is what it was doing behind the computer.”

Sky willed his expression to freeze. “She was here most of the afternoon, working on your spreadsheet. I stopped in and said hello to her.”

Beau grinned. “So the two of you finally met. It’s about time. That young lady’s been mighty curious about you, asking me all sorts of questions.”

“Don’t get any ideas, Beau. Lauren’s a sharp girl, and damned good-looking. But I know better than to mess around with Garn Prescott’s daughter.”

The lie made Sky cringe, but he could hardly tell the truth. Beau and Will would split their sides laughing if they knew. He might not mind making himself the butt of their jokes, but he couldn’t do the same to Lauren.

“Sure you do.” Beau tossed the dainty earring in the air, catching it in his fist. “I’ll leave this in the desk drawer. If you see her before I do, you can tell her it’s there.”

“Fine.” Not that he expected to see her again—even though the memory of that afternoon triggered a disturbing heat rush to his jeans. Hanging around when she came over to work would only make her uncomfortable. Annoy her enough and Beau would lose the help he needed. Even if she wasn’t Garn Prescott’s daughter, Sky knew he’d be smart to keep his distance.

“Pizza’s hot. Let’s watch the game a while.” With Will carrying the flat cardboard boxes and Beau lugging an extra six-pack of Tecate, they trailed into the den. Beau switched on the 48-inch flat-screen TV. Sinking into the big leather sectional, they put the boxes on the coffee table and wolfed down the pizza without the bother of plates. The baseball game was in its seventh inning, with a wide spread in the score and not much action. After a while the commentary faded into the background.

“So who do you figure shot Jasper?” Sky asked.

Will shrugged. “My money’s still on drug smugglers. But cartel types would’ve used a heavier weapon, like an M-16 or a Glock. And they’d have made sure Jasper was dead. Given the small slug the doctor dug out of the old man, I’d say our smugglers are kids, or lowlifes using whatever gun they can get their hands on. Whoever they are, they’re dangerous. Nobody’s going out there alone till they’re stopped.”

Beau set his beer on the table. “Well, since we can’t count on Sweeney, I’d say that’s our j

ob. Who’s for riding out to where we found Jasper tomorrow morning for a look around?”

“I’ll go with you,” Sky offered. “Then, after chores are done, I want to run into Lubbock. I can check on Jasper and bring Bernice home. She must be worn out.”

“Then I’ll stay here and keep an eye on things.” Will finished the last slice of pepperoni pizza. “What about the shotgun Jasper was using? Was it still on the ATV when you found it?”

“No sign of it,” Sky said. “Either it fell out or it was taken—which could mean our shooter would have to get close enough to grab it. If we could find tracks, that would at least give us something to go on.”

“Let’s plan to go at first light. The earlier we get there, the fresher any clues will be.” Beau glanced toward the TV. “Hey, look, Rodriguez is up with two on base.”

By the time the game had progressed two more innings, Beau and Will had both fallen asleep. Sky gathered up the remains of the pizza and beer and took them to the kitchen trash. When he came back, they were still snoring, Will with his head sagging forward, his dark-stubbled chin resting on his chest, and Beau sprawled over one end of the sectional, head back, mouth open.

A strange tenderness crept over Sky—the realization that if he’d had his choice of all the brothers on earth, these men were the two he would have picked. But as things stood, they would never know. The truth would change everything, and not likely for the better.

Dismissing the thought, he switched off the game, dimmed the lights, and left the house.