Texas True (The Tylers of Texas 1)

He’d devoured his way through three platefuls of bacon and eggs, two cups of coffee, and a small mountain of pancakes when a man walked into the kitchen—a terrifying man who looked as big as a barn door, with a bristling mustache and the fiercest, bluest eyes Sky had ever seen.

Sky had possessed the presence of mind to stand.

The man had looked him up and down. “Good. I like a boy with manners,” he’d boomed. “Bernice here says you’re asking for a job. But you look too scrawny to do a man’s work. How old are you, boy?”

“I’m fifteen, sir.” Sky had felt his knees shaking as he answered. “I’m stronger than I look. I’ll work hard for as long as you’ll have me.”

“Sit. Finish your breakfast.” The man had taken a seat on the opposite side of the table. Even sitting down, he’d loomed like John Wayne on steroids. “The name’s Bull Tyler. Mr. Tyler to you. And I’m willing to give you a try at mucking stables—but only a try, mind you. First time I catch you slacking, you’re done, hear?”

“Yes, Mr. Tyler. But I’m no slacker. And I get on with horses. You’ll see.”

“Fine. What’s your name, boy?”

“Sky. Sky Fletcher.”

The big man’s expression had frozen, but only for an instant. “What about your folks? Can I expect them to show up looking for you?”

“No, sir. My mother died when I was three. Her brother’s family in Oklahoma raised me. But I . . .” He’d paused, still feeling the sting of the welts on his back. “I don’t belong there anymore.”

“And your father?”

He’d shrugged. “I never knew him—or anything about him except that he was white and no good.”

“Why no good?”

“Because he didn’t give a damn about my mother or me. A good man would have taken care of us.”

“And what was your mother’s name?”

“Marie. Marie Joslyn Fletcher.”

He rose. “Bernice, we should have some outgrown clothes from the boys. Get those rags off the lad and burn them. Then get him a bath and a toothbrush. When he’s cleaned up, send him out to Jasper.” Without another word, he turned away and strode out of the kitchen.

Bernice had cried out when she saw the welts on Sky’s back. “One thing I can promise,” she’d declared. “Wherever you came from, you’re not going back!”

And so he never had, Sky reflected now. He’d stayed in touch with his cousins and even tried to help Lute, as he’d been helped. But he had no desire ever to see his uncle or aunt again.

Bull had been a fair employer over the years, even insisting that Sky take time off to finish high school. But he’d shown Sky no special attention or favoritism, let alone affection. Whatever place Sky held within the ranch family was the place he’d earned.

Which was why any sort of legacy was so unexpected. In recognition of his service to the ranch . . .

The thin envelope felt like a leaden weight inside his vest. Whatever it held, Sky hoped it wasn’t money. He had money of his own, saved over the years. Not that he had any desire to spend it. Everything he needed was right here on the ranch.

Perhaps he’d be better off not knowing what was in the envelope. Maybe he’d be smart to simply burn it and walk away.

But Sky knew better than to act rashly. Sometimes the wisest course of action was to do nothing. For now he would let the matter rest. The first group of the new colts would be arriving tomorrow. He would have his hands full all summer with their care and training. Whatever was in the envelope had waited this long. It could wait longer.

Glancing back toward the house, Sky saw that Jasper had come out to sit on the porch with the dog. Jasper had spent the past forty years on the ranch. He was as rich in secrets as the silent stone buttes and turrets below the caprock—and he hid those secrets almost as deeply.

He’d shown no curiosity about the contents of the envelope, almost as if he already knew what might be inside.

Checking the impulse to go and talk with him, Sky kept on walking. He would sit with the old man another day. Right now he had more pressing things to do.

The first of Sky’s pupils had arrived. Beau stood with Erin and Jasper outside the fence, watching as twenty-two splendid young horses—yearlings and two-year-olds—thundered out of the long trailers and into the freedom of the grassy paddock.

“Look at that black . . . and, oh, that red one . . .” Erin was beside herself with excitement. Sky had given her the task of naming the new horses, and she took her job seriously. She’d brought a clipboard from the office and was already taking notes. Too bad Will wasn’t here to share this with her, Beau reflected. But Will had driven up to the summer pasture above the caprock to spend the day checking on the cattle herds. He relished being back in action.

Beau knew enough about horseflesh to appreciate Sky’s choices. All fillies and geldings, they were on the small side, solid, compact, and agile. Their eyes shone with alertness and intelligence. When word got around that Sky was training them, interest would be high among ranchers all over the state. Hopefully, when they came to auction, the bidding would be over the top.