Heart slamming, Bull did as he was told. “What the hell—?”
Moving behind him, the deputy yanked his arms back and clamped a set of steel handcuffs around his wrists. The sheriff spoke. “Virgil Tyler, you’re under arrest for the murder of Hamilton Prescott. Deputy, get him in the vehicle and read him his rights.”
As the deputy shoved Bull toward the sheriff’s Jeep, Bull glanced back over his shoulder. Ferg stood next to the sheriff. His face wore a triumphant grin.
* * *
Susan was at the table on the patio, searching the newspaper ads for job openings. So far she’d landed a couple of interviews, but most employers, she’d learned, wanted someone with experience or at least some marketable job skills, neither of which she had. Her father had been right. It was a tough world out there.
She’d circled several possibilities and was about to go into the house and make some calls when her father came outside. One look at his pallid face told her something was wrong.
Her first thought was, Oh no, not more heart problems! “Are you all right, Dad?” she asked anxiously.
“It’s not me,” he said. “It’s something else. I just got a call from Ferg. Ham was murdered two nights ago. Bull Tyler’s been arrested and charged with the crime.”
Using every ounce of strength she possessed, Susan willed herself not to betray any emotion. On the outside, she was a statue. On the inside, she was spiraling into a bottomless black pit, with nothing to grasp and no one to hear her silent screams. This nightmare couldn’t be real. But she had to make herself believe that it was.
Bull. She had to get to Bull. She had to be there for him.
“Tell me what happened.” She forced out the words.
“According to Ferg, Ham got a call in the middle of the night from Bull. Somebody was shooting cattle on the Rimrock. Ham drove over to talk to Bull and tell him it wasn’t his doing. While he was walking toward the house, Bull came out with a shotgun and killed him.”
“How do they know it was Bull?” Susan asked. “Were there any witnesses?”
“No. The hands were all with the cattle. But it was Bull, all right. Ferg had seen Ham leave the house and was worried about him. He showed up before Ham died and tried to get his father home, but Ham didn’t make it.”
“So nobody except Bull saw the shooting.”
“No, but last thing before the end, Ham told Ferg that Bull had shot him. A dying man’s words can be pretty powerful evidence—and there was a lot of bad blood between Bull and the Prescotts.”
No denying that, Susan thought. “What about the girl—the foreman’s niece? Wasn’t she there?”
Cliff gave her a puzzled look. “What girl? I didn’t hear anything about a girl.”
“Never mind.” Susan forced herself to breathe. The story, as Cliff had told it, was entirely believable. Except that she knew Bull, and she knew he would never destroy their lives by killing a man—even a hateful man like Ham—in cold blood. Something was missing.
“Did Uncle Ham have a gun?”
“Ferg says he didn’t. And the sheriff’s men didn’t find one. Bull shot an unarmed man.”
“What does Bull say?”
“As far as I know, he isn’t talking.”
Susan gazed down at the newspaper she’d spread on the table. A slow terror crept over her as she struggled to collect her thoughts. If it could be proven that he’d lured Ham to the Rimrock to kill him, Bull could spend his life in prison, or even be sentenced to death.
Something wasn’t adding up. She had to help Bull, but to do that she had to know the truth—truth she could only get from Bull’s own lips.
Or maybe from someone else—someone who had no reason to like her or even talk to her, especially now.
“I suppose we’ll be going to the funeral,” she said. “Did Ferg tell you when it’s to be?”
“Three days from now.” Cliff looked stricken. He and Ham had grown up together, Susan reminded herself. They were brothers in every way but blood. He was genuinely grieving.
“The coroner’s agreed to release Ham’s body to the mortuary before then. No mystery about what killed him. I’ve already booked our flights. Since we won’t want to impose on Ferg’s family, we’ll be flying into Lubbock early that morning, renting a car, and returning home that night. I hope that’s agreeable.
“It’s fine.” Susan wouldn’t be making the return flight with her parents, but she could fight that battle when the time came. All she wanted was to stay in Texas and be there for Bull.