Texas Fierce (The Tylers of Texas 4)

The sheriff gave Bull a stony look. “I told you, it’s not my job to track down illegals. Now, what was the second thing you wanted?”

Bull checked the urge to get up and leave. He already sensed that this errand was a waste of time. But whatever the sheriff had to say, even if it wasn’t helpful, he needed to hear it.

He cleared his throat. “It’s about my father. After he went missing, he was found at the bottom of a cliff. His death was ruled an accident. Why wasn’t it investigated as a possible murder? How do you know he wasn’t pushed, or killed before he fell?”

The sheriff scowled. “It wasn’t a difficult call. There were no signs of a struggle, no injuries that wouldn’t have been caused by the fall. He wasn’t shot or stabbed or drugged—although there was plenty of alcohol in his system. As far as I’m concerned, the case is closed.”

“Who did the autopsy?”

“The doctor who serves as county coroner looked him over. But given the condition of the body—” He shook his head. “Doctor Gaines isn’t a trained pathologist, but he saw enough.”

“Never mind. I get the idea. I hope you’ll understand if I look into this myself. I owe my father that much.” Bull stood and left.

* * *

After picking up a few groceries, Bull climbed into the truck and headed back to the ranch. Even with the windows down, the cab of the truck was an oven. Sweat glued his clothes to his body and trickled down his face. As he relived his visit to town, his hands gripped the steering wheel until the knuckles ached.

Through the haze of anger, frustration, and blame, one reality stood as solid as the rocky pinnacles above the ranch. He had no friends in Blanco Springs, no allies, no credibility, and no family honor. Except for Jasper, who couldn’t be expected to stay and work for nothing, he stood alone against the avalanche of misfortune that had fallen on the Rimrock.

Selling to the Prescotts would be the easy way out. But one look at Ferg’s smug face had been enough to convince him he couldn’t just roll over and give up. The land was his legacy—to keep and pass on to his children and grandchildren. If he wasn’t man enough to fight for it, he wasn’t man enough to live.

He’d been proud of the name his fellow bull riders had given him. But staying on a bucking bull for eight seconds was child’s play when compared to what he was facing now.

To save what was his, he would need the gut strength to do whatever it took. The rules of common decency would be out the window. He would have to be tough, hard, and ruthless.

Bull.

It was time he started living up to his name.

CHAPTER 3

JASPER WAS WAITING WHEN BULL PULLED INTO THE YARD. “HOW DID IT go in town?” he asked.

“Could’ve been better.” Bull climbed down from the truck and spit his chew in the dust. “I got the hay. But with the cattle too weak to move to better pasture, it won’t last long. And the sheriff was no help. According to him, hunting for a missing illegal isn’t in his job description.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. The man hates Mexicans like a sheepherder hates coyotes.”

“Was Carlos illegal? I never asked, and he never said.”

“I reckon he was,” Jasper said. “We talked a little. He’s got family in Mexico—little town over the border. Rio Seco, it’s called. Unless the old man was damned lucky, I don’t suppose he’ll ever set eyes on the place again.”

“So you didn’t find anything that might be a clue.” Bull gathered grocery bags to take in the house.

Jasper shook his head. One hand rested on the heavy pistol strapped to his hip. “Not a trace. No blood. No tracks. No tire marks from the car or anything else. Between the dust and the wind, there ain’t much left to find.”

“Is the house all right? Whoever came by could’ve ransacked the place.”

“Not much left to ransack.” Jasper took the last grocery sack. “The house is fine.”

“I should’ve asked if the icebox was working before I bought milk and butter,” Bull said.

“The icebox makes more noise than a bulldozer, but it stays cold, most of the time. We got lights and well water. And the old TV works fine if you don’t mind fiddlin’ with the antenna.”

“That’s good enough for me.” Bull followed Jasper into the house and helped him put the groceries away. The place didn’t look like much, with its shabby wall, exposed plumbing and wiring, rough plank floors, and worn-out, secondhand furniture. But then, it never had. Maybe someday he could fix it up, make it something to be proud of. Right now that was a long way down the list.

“We’d better unload the hay and see to the stock,” Bull said. “Then I’ll have a look around and figure out what we can fix without having to buy anything. Something tells me the lumber and hardware store won’t give us any more credit than the hay and feed place did.”

Jasper looked hopeful. “You’re talkin’ like you mean to stay. Have you made up your mind?”