Texas Tough (The Tylers of Texas 2)

ma of evil seemed to hang over the place, like the clouds of gnats that hovered above the brownish water. He couldn’t go near it without remembering the young woman, a waitress at the Blue Coyote, whose murdered body he and Lute had found there during spring roundup.

He was turning aside when he noticed the thick flock of buzzards circling the bog, some flapping in to settle behind the screen of cattails, others perching in the bleached cottonwood that rose like a bony hand on the bog’s far side. The place was a hangout for the ugly black birds. Sky was used to seeing a few of them. Today there were dozens, and plenty of ravens, too.

Something was going on and, like it or not, it was his job to check it out.

Sky swung the gray gelding toward the bog. Whatever he was about to find, one thing was for sure—it wouldn’t be pretty. If some creature was newly trapped, he might be able to free it. If it was alive but beyond saving, he could at least use his pistol to end its misery.

For weeks the bog had been drying up in the heat. By now the water would be nearly gone. But the reeking mud it left behind smelled even worse. Catching the scent, Quicksilver snorted and tossed his head.

“It’s all right, boy.” Sky patted the satiny neck. “I know it smells bad, but it’ll soon be behind us. Let’s do our job.” Steeling himself against the stench, he rode close enough to see over the cattails. The birds were clustered on a six-foot mound in the middle of the bog. Through the melee of feathered, black bodies, Sky glimpsed long white bones, tatters of faded gray fabric, a pair of mud-encrusted motorcycle boots, and the rusting barrels of two guns protruding from the mud beneath the body.

Turning the horse away, he filled the air with curses. There was no need to go closer, or even to look again. He knew what he’d find.

He’d come across what was left of his missing cousin, Coy Fletcher.

There was no question of keeping the discovery private. But Sky took the time to ride Quicksilver back to the paddock, unsaddle him, and turn him loose before telling Will and Beau about the body. Will made the call to Abner Sweeney, who, for whatever it was worth, was the law in Blanco County.

By the time Sky and Beau returned in Sky’s pickup, the land around the bog was fast becoming a three-ring circus. Sirens wailing, Abner Sweeney roared up in his sheriff’s Jeep, trailed by a Land Cruiser loaded with deputies and crime scene processing equipment. Hot behind them came the TV news chopper carrying the buxom Mindi Thacker and her camera crew.

Acting Sheriff Abner Sweeney stepped out of his Jeep. Pudgy and fortyish, with carrot-colored hair and a bumper crop of freckles, his attention seemed to be focused on the news crew. While one of his deputies began stringing yellow crime scene tape and the other two pulled on rubber boots and gloves, Sweeney stepped in front of the TV camera.

“Sheriff, what can you tell us about the situation here?” Ms. Thacker, dressed in a spotless white pantsuit, seemed to be vying with Sweeney for screen space.

Sweeney looked directly into the camera. “We’re still investigating what happened here,” he said. “But I can assure the public of two things. First and most important, with me and my loyal deputies on guard, the good citizens of Blanco County will be perfectly safe. And second, neither I nor my deputies will rest until the monster who committed this crime is brought to justice.”

“I’ll be damned,” Beau muttered in Sky’s ear. “The man’s a born politician.”

“For somebody who’s not supposed to be very smart, he sounds pretty impressive,” Sky said.

“It’s all hot air. I hear he spends most of his spare time reading sexy crime novels.” Beau nudged Sky out of camera range. “Let’s keep our distance. We don’t want to be cornered by Blanco County’s answer to Diane Sawyer.”

“I’m right behind you,” Sky said, remembering the last time Ms. Thacker had covered a story on the ranch. Beau had threatened her with legal action if she didn’t take her crew and leave. But with the sheriff and his deputies here, he didn’t have that option.

They circled behind the parked vehicles to a spot from which they could watch without calling attention to themselves. The buzzards had scattered, some to the air and others to the branches of the dead cottonwood, where they watched the drama below.

Wearing high boots, arm-length gloves, and face masks, two men were making a circuit of the body. One had a camera, the other a pole he was using to probe the muck. The deputy who’d been stringing tape prowled the outer edge of the cattails looking for evidence.

“There won’t be much to find,” Beau said. “That body looks like it’s been in the bog for weeks. You’re sure the man’s your missing cousin—the one who allegedly shot Jasper?”

“No doubt about it. I recognize the boots from the tracks I saw earlier. And I’m pretty sure one of those guns sticking out of the mud will turn out to be Jasper’s shotgun—see the double barrel?”

“How well did you know him?” Beau asked.

“It’s been years since I’ve seen Coy face-to-face, but I remember he was a mean son of a gun. Not the sort who’ll be missed much. But that reminds me, I’ll need to go and tell his sister before she sees this on the news.”

“Lord, I don’t envy you that. Were they close?”

“Nobody liked Coy much, including Marie. She told me she’d only brought him along because he insisted. But things must’ve been all right between them. She was picking up supplies for him and giving him rides to town and back on her Harley. That’s what she was doing when they ran into Jasper.”

Beau scowled. “So she was giving him a ride back from town and they cut across the ranch. Where were they headed?”

Beau was no fool. Sky’s jaw tightened as reality sank into place with the weight of a two-ton boulder. This mess wasn’t just about Coy and Marie. There was the camp and the marijuana patch he’d destroyed but hadn’t reported because he’d wanted to give Marie a break. And there was the land—his land, the deed legally recorded in the county office. The truth was about to come out—and it would be best coming from him.

He planned to tell the sheriff, of course. But first he would tell the Tylers.

“Walk back to the truck with me,” he said to Beau. “There’s something I need to confess.”

“So how long were you planning to keep this a secret?” Now that Beau had heard the story, he seemed far more interested in the land than in Coy’s camp and the marijuana.