Texas Tough (The Tylers of Texas 2)

“Why should I tell you when you don’t give a shit about our family?”

“That’s not true. I tried to help Lute. He ended up setting a fire, stealing two horses, and sending a little girl to the hospital. But even then, when he was cornered, I tried to save him. That’s what got me shot.”

“Well, what about now?”

She was leading up to something. Sky met her words with silence, hoping she’d say more. At last she spoke again.

“Lute called me a couple of days before he died. He said Stella meant to kill him—she wouldn’t do it herself, but she’d send somebody else. That was her way. Do you believe that?”

“Pretty much,” Sky said. “But there’s no evidence against the woman. She can’t be arrested and charged without proof.”

“I don’t need proof.” Marie’s voice was leaden. “Lute was my brother and she had him killed. I’m here to make the bitch pay.”

The pickup’s engine rumbled in the silence. Sky shifted into low gear as he turned the truck onto an unpaved side road. The going would be slow and dusty from here.

“How?” he asked.

“That depends. Right now the plan is to win her trust, take the time to learn all I can about her operation, then strike where it’ll hurt her the most.”

“You could do it legally. Find enough evidence to turn her over to the law.”

“I could.” She rolled up the window to keep out the billowing dust. “But I don’t have to if there’s a way to do it fast and dirty.”

He had to give her credit, Sky conceded. Legal or not, going after Stella Rawlins took a lot of guts. But did Marie understand the depth of the danger?

“Be careful,” he said. “Stella’s like a black widow spider with webs in places you’d least expect. Cross her and she can be deadly. Look what happened to Lute.”

“Lute didn’t know what he was getting into. I do. And I’m smarter than he was.”

“I always thought you were smarter than all of your brothers put together,” Sky said. “And speaking of brothers, how does Coy fit into your plans?”

Marie leaned back in the seat and put one dusty boot on the dashboard. “Wasn’t my idea to bring him along in the first place,” she said. “Sometimes I think I’d be better off without him. But he’s here, and it would be a shame not to put him to use. Any suggestions?”

“Don’t ask me.” In the distance, Sky could see the stand of mesquite that marked the boundary of his land. The uncleared scrub made it perfect for hiding an illegal crop. He could only hope Coy would leave without putting up too much of a fuss.

But knowing Coy, anything could happen.

Stopping fifty yards short of the property line, Sky parked in the open and pulled the hand brake. “Hope you don’t mind getting out first,” he told Marie. “If Coy sees it’s you, he’s less apt to react.”

“No problem.” Marie swung out of the truck and strode across the expanse of dry grass. Sky took a moment to holster the pistol he’d brought. He didn’t plan to shoot his cousin, but if Coy needed a little extra persuasion, a gun might come in handy.

“Coy, it’s me!” Marie called out. “I’ve brought Sky!”

There was no response. She called again as Sky came even with her. Again, there was no answer.

“I don’t like this,” Marie said. “Coy’s usually up by now, and he’s pretty alert.”

“Stay behind me.” Sky drew the pistol and cocked it. Moving into cover, he edged forward. This wild country, within easy reach of the border, was the haunt of illegals, fugitives, and drug gangs. He needed to be ready for anything.

Warning Marie to stay back, he stepped into the clearing, where a makeshift tent—little more than a tarp on some sticks—stood with the flap partway lifted. A magpie glided onto the peak of the ramshackle structure, scolded the newcomers, then took wing again.

“Coy?” Marie pushed past Sky and flung back the tent flap. There was nothing inside but some crumpled food wrappers, empty beer cans, and a dirty, rumpled blanket.

Through the trees Sky could see the marijuana patches, scattered among clumps of mesquite, each one watered by a black plastic hose. Without water, the finger-high plants wouldn’t last long.

“Coy! Dammit, where are you?” Marie’s voice had taken on a frantic note. She raced past the marijuana and up a faintly worn path that probably led to the latrine. She was back a moment later, a stricken look on her face.

“I can’t find him anywhere,” she said. “He’s gone.”