Texas Tough (The Tylers of Texas 2)

“Gun?” Marie looked blank. “What kind of gun? Was I supposed to know it was there?”

Stella gave a huff of impatience. “Did you see anybody near that drawer? Anybody opening it or taking anything out?”

“No. Nigel’s always right there. How could anybody even get close?”

“What about when the bar’s closed? Have you heard any noises downstairs? If you’ve let anybody inside, so help me—”

“No!” Marie was all wide, innocent eyes. “I’d never do that. But I’m a pretty sound sleeper once I go under. Somebody could’ve broken in, I guess. Maybe they were looking for money and found the gun.”

Stella scowled, deepening the creases in her heavy makeup. “A fine lot of help you are! Let me know if you see or hear anything. Meanwhile, as long as you’re up, you might as well get dressed and make yourself useful. The floor could use a good scrubbing before we open, and you can wash the windows, too. I’m not paying you good money to sleep.”

“Bitch!” Marie muttered as Stella sashayed back down the hall toward the stairs. For two cents she’d tell the woman where she could shove this crappy job. But the stakes had become too high for that. And Marie was too close to getting what she wanted. She would have to be patient a little longer.

So far she’d been lucky. If the gun led the cops to Stella or N

ick, and if either of them was arrested, the door would be open to make her move. But luck wouldn’t be enough. She would need to be tough and smart. Play her cards right, and she could have it all. Make one mistake, and she could end up as dead as her two brothers.

Four days after Coy Fletcher’s body was found in the bog, Will sold off two hundred head of Rimrock cattle. The buyer was a feed lot owner out of Lubbock, the price so low that it made Will heartsick. But at least the money would help feed the rest of the herd for a few extra weeks—maybe until the drought broke, if it ever did.

Was he just throwing good money after bad?

Will asked himself that question as he stood on the porch the morning after the sale, sipping his coffee and watching the cruel sun rise over the plains to the east. The summer’s heat had sucked every last drop of moisture out of the soil. The grass had long since crumbled to yellow dust. Even hardy, deep-rooted trees like the cedars were turning brown and dropping their foliage at a passing touch.

The morning breeze stirred the vanes of the old windmill that pumped water from a deep underground well. At least there was wind. But how long would the water last with nothing going down to replenish it? How long could they hold out here if the place became a dust bowl like the one that had sent families trekking out of Oklahoma in the 1930s?

A hundred yards beyond the house he could hear the thrum of the backhoe and see the firebreak Beau had put the cowhands to clearing. The men had been working in shifts through the night, from dusk until chore time, after which the morning sun became too hot to stand. After three nights of backbreaking toil, the eight-foot strip of bare earth made an outward arc on both sides of the drive, giving some protection to the house and other dwellings. The work wouldn’t be finished until it fronted the eastern approach to the barns and sheds. On the west, they would depend on the escarpment to keep them safe. Up on the caprock the fire danger was even greater. But God willing, no fire would be able to jump the rocky, bare escarpment in either direction.

On the morning news, Will had seen more wildfires, one of them in the next county to the east. Ranches had been destroyed, stock lost, and two people killed trying to save their property. Would the firebreak be enough to hold back leaping flames? Will could only hope. Gazing out at the seared landscape, he murmured a half-voiced prayer.

He felt a tug on his arm. Erin’s fresh young face grinned up at him. “Daddy, Bernice says to tell you breakfast is ready.”

He gave her a smile and squeezed her shoulder. Right now his daughter was the only brightness in his world. Nothing mattered more than keeping her safe. Later today he would call Tori about taking her back to town until the worst of the danger was over. Erin would balk at leaving the ranch and her beloved foal, but it was what her mother would want. At least he and Tori saw eye to eye on some things.

Will was finishing his plate when Beau came in to join him. Unshaven and weary, he’d spent the predawn hours on the firebreak. His head and hands were damp from a dousing at the outside tap.

“I got an early morning call from Abner.” He slid out his chair and took his place on the opposite side of the table. “He heard from the lab in Lubbock. The three slugs taken from the body are a match to the Glock found at the crime scene. Looks like the poor devil was shot in the back.”

“No surprise there.” Will downed the last of his coffee. “How come Abner’s calling you? Are you moonlighting as his new deputy?”

“Not quite.” Beau paused to thank Bernice for the heaping plate she set in front of him. “But Abner’s been treating me like his best buddy since he found out I worked for the DEA. Since this is his first murder case, he’s pretty stoked about it. Even though it’s against protocol, he wanted to share the news.”

“What about the gun? Have they tracked the owner?”

“Here’s where it gets interesting. The Glock’s registered to Stella Rawlins. But there’s only one set of fingerprints on it, and they aren’t hers.”

“How do they know? You told me she wasn’t in the system.”

“According to Abner, the prints on the grip were weathered and pretty faint. But the prints on the magazine were pristine. Every one of them was a match to Nikolas Tomescu.”

“Our tattooed friend Nigel. Does Sky know?”

“Yes. I caught up with him on his way to the tack room.”

“How did he react to the news?”

“You know Sky. You can’t tell what he’s thinking.” Beau scooped up a forkful of eggs. “Abner’s waiting for a warrant from the judge. Then he’ll go with a couple of deputies to make the arrest.”

“Damned shame, he’s been a good bartender and tough enough to keep the place civilized.” Will rose. “Anyway, it’s one less thing to worry about. Finish eating and get cleaned up. I’ll see you outside.”