Texas Fierce (The Tylers of Texas 4)

“How do you know that, Jasper?” Something closed like an icy fist around Bull’s heart.

Jasper looked Bull straight in the eye. “I know because it was me. I pushed Williston off that cliff.”

Bull stared at him, mute with shock.

“Don’t say a word,” Jasper said. “Just listen to the whole story. I’ve told you how sick Williston was, how much pain he was in. Toward the end, even being drunk didn’t help. He wanted to live to see you again, but he was in agony. He couldn’t stand it any longer. He told me he wanted to end it and asked me to be there with him.

“We took a bottle and walked up the back of the ledge. I had a little to drink. Williston had most of it. We’d agreed on a story to cover what was supposed to happen, to make it look like an accident in case anybody wondered.

“When the time came, he told me, ‘Jasper, I want to do this on my own, but you might have to help me. I’m going to stand on the edge and count down from ten. If I haven’t jumped by the count of one, promise you’ll give me a good push.’ So I promised him, and that’s how it happened.”

Tears were flowing down Jasper’s cheeks. “I never had more respect for a man than I did for your father. Helping him die, and hiding the truth afterward, was the last kindness I could do him. But I’ll live with that memory every da

y for the rest of my life. And now you’ll have to live with it, too.”

Bull’s eyes were moist. An aching lump had risen in his throat. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered.

“Because your dad didn’t want you to know. He swore me to it before he died. I turned his horse loose and spent the next day pretendin’ to search, knowing the whole time where he was and how I’d find him. And I never told anybody till now. It was all for you, Bull. That was the promise I made—the promise I just broke. Wherever he is, I hope to hell Williston will forgive me.”

Jasper gazed up at the stars, as if wondering whether his old boss was listening. “I broke a whole passel of laws doing what I did. I’m hoping you won’t turn me in.”

“I’d never do that,” Bull said. “What you did, you did out of friendship.”

“If your dad was here, he’d tell you to go get that woman, make babies with her, and be happy. Since he’s not here, I’m tellin’ you for him. Life is too short—nobody knows that better than I do. I put off marryin’ my Sally because Williston needed me, and after that because I thought you needed me. You know the rest.”

After some silence, Jasper stood, stretching his long, skinny frame. “I’ve said enough. Time to turn in. You think on what I’ve told you. If, by morning, you’ve decided to take my advice, I’ll break one more promise.”

“What promise is that?” Bull asked.

“I’ll tell you where to find Susan.”

Bull’s pulse skipped. “She’s still here?”

Jasper nodded. “I wouldn’t keep her waitin’ too long if I was you, Bull. You put that girl through hell. You don’t want her changin’ her mind.”

* * *

“More coffee?” Susan poised the carafe over the beautiful china cup, one of a set that had belonged to Ned Purvis’s late wife.

Purvis, who was reading the morning newspaper, shook his head. “Thanks, but I’ve had enough. You’re spoiling me, young lady. Any more of those muffins you made and I’ll have to let my belt out a couple of notches.”

Susan smiled at the comment. She’d had very little baking practice, but in one of the cabinet drawers she’d discovered a well-used copy of the red-and-white Better Homes and Gardens cookbook. She’d tried several recipes. The failures had gone into the trash. But the muffins, made with blueberries she’d found in the freezer, were spectacular.

Cooking would never be high on her list of accomplishments but, at least for now, it helped divert her thoughts from Bull.

Yesterday Purvis had passed on the news that Bull was a free man. Susan had been giddy with relief. But as the afternoon dragged into an evening that slowly darkened into night, she’d forced herself to face reality. He’d meant it when he’d told her to leave. She wasn’t going to see him again. It was time to start planning the rest of her life.

A life without Bull. Without the sight of his face, the sound of his voice, and the strength of his arms around her. This morning it felt like a prison sentence.

As Purvis finished the paper, she carried the breakfast dishes to the sink. “As soon as I clean up here, I’ll file that stack of briefs you left on your desk,” she said.

“No hurry. Take some time for yourself.” Purvis rose from the table. “If you need me, I’ll be out front trimming my roses. Best to get it done before the heat sets in.”

Alone in the house, she loaded the dishwasher, wiped the countertops, and dusted the table. She was folding the newspaper when, on impulse, she decided to check the want ads. Maybe jobs were easier to find in Texas than in Savannah.

She’d pulled out a chair and was about to sit down when Purvis, who hadn’t been outside long, opened the front door. “Susan,” he said, “you have a visitor.”

He moved discreetly out of the way, back onto the porch.