Texas Fierce (The Tylers of Texas 4)

“Exploring!” Seething, Bull shook his head. “For hell’s sake, girl, this isn’t Savannah. You damn near died tonight! And that bull was prime registered stock! I’ll never have the money for another one like him!”

Jasper appeared outside the fen

ce, out of breath and still buckling his belt. “I heard a couple of shots,” he said. “What the—” His words ended in a groan as he saw Jupiter lying dead on the ground. “Oh, Lordy, what happened?”

Bull unclenched his teeth. “Jasper, this is Miss Susan Rutledge, who’s visiting the Prescotts. She went on a little adventure in the pasture. I had to shoot Jupiter to save her.”

Jasper cursed under his breath, looking as if he was about to cry. Short of losing a man, the death of the stud bull was the worst thing that could’ve happened on the ranch. At last he sighed and spoke. “Well, I don’t reckon we can afford to waste the meat, even though the old cuss is bound to be tougher than boot leather. I’ll wake the boys to help dress and hang the carcass. Then we can haul it to the meat packer in the mornin’.”

The boys would undoubtedly be awake. But they knew better than to come rushing outside at the sound of gunshots.

“Give me a few minutes to run Miss Rutledge home, and I’ll come back and help you.” Bull glanced at the girl. “Come on. We might as well go out through the gate. No reason to keep it closed anymore.”

Jasper glanced down at Bull’s ripped jeans. “Your leg’s bleedin’. You might want me to take a look at it before you go.”

“Later. I’ll be fine.” He opened the gate and steered the girl across the yard to the truck.

* * *

Susan glanced at Bull Tyler’s grim profile as he drove the pickup over the bumpy road. Her adventure had caused unbelievable harm. She couldn’t blame him for being furious.

“Are you going to tell my father?” she asked.

“I don’t know your father. And I’m not exactly on good terms with the rest of the family. So, no. I’m just going to let you out by the gate. You can tell them whatever the hell you want to.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I really am.”

“Being sorry won’t bring Jupiter back. He had a vile temper, but he sired fine calves, and a lot of them.”

“Would it make any difference if I thanked you for saving my life?”

He gave her a stony glance, his blue eyes glinting anger in the darkness of the cab. “If you want to thank me,” he said, “you can do it by never coming on my property again.”

She saw that he’d stopped outside the gate to the Prescott Ranch. Any closer and somebody might hear the sound of the truck. She glanced back at him. He sat looking straight ahead as if she wasn’t there.

Without another word, she opened the door of the truck, dropped to the ground, and, willing herself not to look back, took off at a run toward the big, dark house. Behind her, she could hear the engine of the old pickup already fading down the road.

* * *

Three days later the written invitation came, hand-carried by a cowboy on a smart-looking bay that bore the Prescott brand. The cowboy remained in the saddle, waiting while Bull opened the envelope and read the handwritten note inside.

Mr. Tyler:

My family and I would be pleased to have you as a dinner guest tomorrow evening at 6:00. If you’d care to join us, I have a business proposition you’ll be interested in hearing.

RSVP.

Yours truly,

Hamilton Prescott

The cowboy on the horse cleared his throat. “They said to tell you that RSVP means—”

“I know what it means,” Bull said. “Tell your boss I’ll be there.”

As the man rode away, Bull showed the note to Jasper, who read it and chuckled. “Just look at that fancy little note, and that pretty handwritin’, with them little curlicues. Bet your boots ol’ Ham didn’t write that his self.”

Bull had a pretty good idea who’d written the note for Ham Prescott, but he wasn’t about to say so. “Well, whoever wrote it, I can guess what Ham wants. He’ll be pushing me to sell him the Rimrock.”