Texas Tall (The Tylers of Texas 3)

Had she been tactful enough? He looked disappointed. But he managed a smile. “If you’re under stress, I can think of a great remedy,” he joked. “But I understand—at least I’m trying to. Since I happen to think you’re a woman worth waiting for, I’ll try to be patient. But don’t expect me to wait forever, Tori.”

“I know better than that. Just a little more time, that’s all I’m asking.” She nodded toward her half-emptied glass. “I think I’d better leave the rest. Too much beer has an unflattering effect on me.”

“Ready to go, then?” Fishing out his wallet, he left a couple of bills on the table. Then he rose, gave Tori his hand, and ushered her outside. The wind had risen to a howl. It whipped Tori’s coat around her body as they walked to the car. The air carried the earthy scent of a coming storm. She filled her lungs with it, breathing away the stale, smoky odors of the Blue Coyote and the memory of those hate-filled eyes, watching her from the shadows.

They drove back to her house, saying little. It isn’t too late to reverse course and invite him in, Tori reminded herself. She had little doubt that Drew would be a good lover, tender and considerate. But tonight she would be jittery, nervous, and torn by doubts. No, this wasn’t a good time. When it happened—if it happened—she wanted to be ready.

He pulled the car into her driveway, walked her to the front door, and gave her a lingering kiss. “Think about what I said,” he murmured as she unlocked the door. “Call me if you change your mind.”

From the open doorway, she watched his big, sleek car glide out of the driveway. As the taillights vanished down the street, she closed the door behind her and switched on a lamp. The house was quiet. Safe, she thought, unless one of Stella’s minions was hiding in a closet, ready to jump out at her. Maybe she should have invited Drew inside. At least she wouldn’t have been here alone.

Laughing at her own fear, she walked through the split-level house, turning on the lights. Nothing. She was being silly. All the same, she was glad Erin was safe on the Rimrock with Will.

She paused, thinking of her daughter. When she’d brought Erin to the ranch on Saturday, she hadn’t planned on leaving her there. Most of the clothes Erin liked, along with spare underthings, sanitary pads, schoolbooks, and other necessities, were here. Tori had already packed a suitcase for her and planned to take it when she drove to the ranch tomorrow. But with a storm moving in, the roads might be better tonight. She glanced at her watch. It was barely ten-thirty, not too late to change clothes, make the twenty-mile drive to the ranch, and stay the night in Beau’s old room.

Fifteen minutes later, dressed in her jeans and her warm ranch coat, she was driving down Main Street, headed out of town. After she passed the last streetlight, the night was pitch-black, darkened by the clouds that had poured in over the caprock to fill the sky. Wind battered the old pickup, threatening to blow it off the road. Tori’s fingers cramped on the wheel as she struggled to hold it steady.

She’d been driving about ten minutes when the storm broke in full fury. Lightning streaked across the sky. A fusillade of marble-sized hailstones blasted the vehicle with a clattering roar, covering the road in an instant. Worried but calm, Tori geared down and turned on the wipers. She’d driven in bad storms before. She’d be fine.

The windshield had fogged over. Remembering too late that the truck had no air-conditioning to clear the glass, she punched the defroster button and cleared a spot with her hand. Her headlights showed nothing but white. She was driving blind. But she’d traveled this road hundreds of times over the years. The ranch turnoff couldn’t be more than a few minutes ahead. She didn’t dare pull off the road and wait. The storm could get even worse, stranding her. She had to get to the house.

The truck crept forward through the swirling whiteness. Hailstorms tended to pass with the storm front, giving way to rain or sleet. Surely, this one would stop in the next few minutes. If anyone in the house had left a light on, she’d be able to see it in the distance and find the gravel lane that turned off the main road. Maybe she should call. But her purse, with her phone in it, was out of easy reach. If she braked to find it, she could kill the engine or skid on the ice-slicked road.

She pushed on, minute after tension-fraught minute, inching forward with the defroster on full blast. By now, she knew she’d missed the turnoff to the lane. But the road’s steep edges gave her no room to turn around without the risk of sliding off and getting stuck. What she needed was a wide spot or, better yet, a side road to a ranch or farm where she could drive in, back out, and make the turn.

The hail had given way to a driving, icy sleet that froze on the surface of the road. As the whiteout cleared to a dark gray, Tori could make out the road’s shoulder in the headlights. Just ahead, a rutted lane cut off to the right, probably leading to a farm—just what she’d been looking for. Tapping the brake, she eased the wheel into a careful right turn. So far, so good. But she’d only gone a few feet down the cutoff when she realized her mistake. The farm road sloped at a sharp angle from the high shoulder of the road. Under these icy conditions, its steep surface could be too slippery for the truck to back out.

She stopped the vehicle, pulled the hand brake, and shifted into neutral, with the engine still idling. Surely, the old pickup would have four-wheel drive. Tori searched on and under the dashboard, but couldn’t find any way to switch it over. All she could do was try to back out.

With a muttered prayer she shifted into reverse, released the hand brake, and floored the gas pedal. The engine roared. The worn tires spun on the slick ice. But the truck didn’t move.

She slumped over the wheel, collecting her thoughts. The only option left was to keep going down the farm road and hope it led to someplace where she could find shelter.

Taking a deep breath, she drove slowly forward. Beyond the reach of the truck’s headlights, the road descended into a black fog. Between the storm and the clouded windshield, Tori

was driving almost blind. She didn’t see the electric wire fence and the bulky forms of cattle on the far side of it until she was about to crash into it.

Swallowing a scream, she slammed her foot on the brake. The truck fishtailed and skidded to a stop, inches from the fence.

The engine had died. Shaking, Tori turned off the ignition and pulled the hand brake. She couldn’t go forward; she couldn’t back up; she’d be a fool to get out of the truck in the storm. She wasn’t going anywhere. It was time to find her phone and call for help.

She’d tossed her purse into the backseat with Erin’s suitcase. Hooking the strap with her finger, she dragged the purse into the front and fished out her cell phone. The display screen showed a low-battery signal. Tori muttered an unladylike curse. She usually plugged in the phone when she went to bed, but it was too late for that now, and she’d left her car charger in her station wagon.

If I could just reach one person . . .

Mentally crossing her fingers, she scrolled to Will’s number and pressed call. Her heart sank as she counted the rings. No answer. When his voice message came on, she spoke rapidly. “Will, I’m stuck off the road in the storm, somewhere past—”

She broke off in midsentence. Her phone had gone dark.

* * *

Will had gone to bed early in the hope of getting some needed rest. But between the storm outside and the worry demons in his head, sleep was impossible. Around ten-thirty, he rolled out of bed, dressed, and took a moment to look in on Erin. Then, shrugging into his sheepskin coat, he went out to his truck.

Icy sleet spattered the pickup as he drove the back roads of the Rimrock, using his powerful spotlight to check every fence, every pasture where the cattle were gathered. Not that he could do much if any of them were in trouble. That would have to wait for daylight. But every animal was precious. In terms of hard cash, the death of any cow, calf, or steer would mean a two-thousand-dollar loss to the ranch.

The crews had done all they could to protect the cattle against cold and wind. But in an open pasture, there wasn’t much that could be done about lightning. As a boy Will had seen what one lightning strike could do to a closely packed herd. The memory of those charred, swollen bodies would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life.

There’d been lightning strikes, dangerously close, as the storm front moved through. Dawn would tell if the lightning had done any damage. Tonight there was nothing he could do.