Texas Free (The Tylers of Texas 5)

“Now, I know what you’re thinking, girl,” Jasper said. “But Bull wants to palaver. It appears to me you’ve got nothing to lose by hearing him out. Besides, I know damn well you’re hungry. Now let’s get a move on.”

With a grumble of acquiescence, Rose climbed back inside the camper and pulled on her work clothes. Jasper was right. At this point she had nothing to lose. After all, Bull could only get so mad.

Minutes later, she’d dressed, swept back her hair, and splashed her face in the creek. That would have to do. At least it would be good enough for facing Bull.

Jasper opened the door of his pickup for Rose to climb in. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m not packing a gun.”

“I didn’t expect you to. You may be a stubborn little hothead, but you’re not crazy—although I’m beginning to have my doubts.” Jasper started the truck. The engine roared as the heavy tires bounced over the ruts and hollows. “Lord, girl, you can’t stay out here alone. It isn’t safe.”

“I’ve survived worse than this, Jasper.” Much worse, Rose thought. And if the cartel ever tracked her down . . .

Her thoughts shifted as the heart of the Rimrock Ranch came into view—the house and barn, the corrals and outbuildings that provided a home for people she cared about, in spite of her differences with Bull. Could she count on them to protect her if Don Refugio’s thugs showed up? She thought about Bull and his sons, about Bernice and Jasper and the hands who’d treated her with respect and kindness. No, she couldn’t risk these precious people. If the enemy came after her, she would face them alone—on the land that was her heritage.

Jasper pulled the truck up to the house. Only the dogs rose from the porch and came down the steps to greet them. Rose patted their shaggy heads. The boys would be off to school by now, and Bernice was probably busy in the kitchen. As for Bull . . .

But that remained to be seen.

Jasper accompanied her up the steps and across the porch but paused at the door. “Aren’t you coming in with me?” Rose asked, uneasy at the prospect of losing her ally.

He shook his head. “Not this time. It’s to be just you and the big boss. You’re on your own.”

“At least wish me luck.”

“You’re going to need more than luck.” He nudged her shoulder, giving her a push through the open doorway. “You go for it, girl.”

Chin up, Rose walked through the shadowed great room toward the light in the dining room. The table was set like a feast for royalty with platters of ham and sausage, fresh biscuits, fried potatoes, and Bernice’s airy scrambled eggs with cheese. Some subtle rustlings from beyond the closed kitchen door told her Bernice was there, but Rose guessed that the woman had orders not to disturb her boss.

Bull sat like a king at the head of the table, his face a study in stone. “Sit down, Rose.” His deep, gravelly voice revealed nothing. “Have some breakfast.”

Rose’s appetite had fled, but she filled her plate with a respectable amount of food, then glanced up at Bull. “Is this supposed to be my last meal?” she asked.

Her joke didn’t draw so much as a flicker of a smile. “Just eat,” he said.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Rose said.

“We’re not here to answer your questions.” His scowl deepened. “Eat. Your food’s getting cold.”

She took a bite of biscuit, which melted in her mouth. “Well,” she persisted. “I still want to know—”

“Damn it, Rose!” Bull’s fist crashed onto the table, jingling glasses and cutlery. “I swear you could irritate the spines off a prickly pear! Just shut up, eat your breakfast, and listen to me, all right?”

“Go ahead.” Rose nibbled a forkful of scrambled egg. “I’m listening.”

Bull refilled his coffee mug from the carafe on the table, took a sip, and set the mug down with a thud. “For starters, I kn

ow you went to see Ferg last night and that his sleazy lawyer was there. And I’m pretty sure I know what you talked about.”

“Nothing was decided,” Rose said. “We just talked. I wanted to know what my options were. If you’re so upset, why are you feeding me?”

“Rose—”

“Never mind, go on.”

“You said nothing was decided. But if you’re as sharp as I think you are, I’m betting you learned a thing or two? Am I right?”

Rose nodded, seizing on the question, wherever it might lead. “I did. I learned that I should trust a skunk before a rattlesnake, and a rattlesnake before a Prescott. Is that the right answer?”

Bull’s left eyebrow slid upward. “Not bad. And can you tell me why?”