Texas Fierce (The Tylers of Texas 4)

He’d done his best with what he had. In the petroglyph canyon where his father had died, he’d dug out a tank at the bottom of the trickling spring and lined it to make a pool. But there wasn’t enough water for more than a few cattle at a time, and it was too far from good pasture to be of much use.

The only way to afford a second well on the property would be to borrow the money from the bank to pay a drilling contractor. Bull didn’t trust banks any more than his father had—and in these dry times, there was no guarantee that a new well would strike ground water. Somehow, there had to be another way to get what he needed.

The Prescotts had no such problem. They had three deep wells on their ranch, as well as a fair-sized stream, fed by a gushing spring in the depths of the escarpment.

But right now, Bull had more urgent concerns than his neighbors. If he didn’t get the windmill up and running, there’d be no water tomorrow.

By the time the coffee was ready, the boys had wandered up to join Bull on the porch. Still yawning and swearing, they drank the coffee and ate the stale doughnuts left over from last week’s run to town. Then they went to work.

By the next morning the tower was up, the blades turning sluggishly and the pump barely working. Given the makeshift repairs, mostly made with baling wire and duct tape, Bull knew that time was running out to replace it.

At the hardware store, he ordered a complete set of parts to be delivered to the ranch by truck in two days. Putting it together with the help of the young cowboys would be a lot of work, and the transition from the old windmill to the new one would have to be done fast. But the savings would amount to hundreds of dollars over having it installed.

He signed the order, grateful that in the past two years he’d managed to pay off Williston’s debts and establish decent credit. When the next bill came due, he’d probably have to sell off a couple of steers to pay it, but that couldn’t be helped.

With that errand done, he picked up a few groceries and was about to head back to the ranch when he realized it was almost noon. He’d missed breakfast, and so had the boys. A couple of extra-large pizzas, which they’d doubtless wolf down in one sitting, would be a good idea.

He drove to the Burger Shack. Bonnie’s old Studebaker was parked out back, which meant she was working. That would be all right. He and Bonnie had enjoyed a few romps, but when he’d discovered he was sharing her with Ferg, he’d backed off. True to her nature, she was still friendly and probably open to a rematch, but Bull had gone down that road for the last time. He’d never met her husband, but he didn’t envy the man.

Ferg’s red Thunderbird convertible was parked in the handicapped space. Bull resisted the temptation to gouge the shiny red paint with his key. He had no doubt Ferg was involved in wrecking his windmill, but keying his car, or slashing his tires, would be too much like a teenage prank. As Jasper might have said, revenge was best served cold. When the time was right, he would find a way. For now, he would at least have the satisfaction of looking Ferg in the eye, as if nothing had happened, and seeing him squirm.

Whistling under his breath, he walked through the door and up to the counter. Bonnie gave him her usual smile and wink, but as she took his order, her eyes flickered toward the corner booth. Without turning around, Bull knew that Ferg was there. He ordered a fountain Coke for himself, paid for everything, and took his soda from Bonnie. At last, taking his time, he turned around . . . and almost dropped his drink.

Ferg was leaning back in the booth, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Seated next to him, his arm around her shoulders, was the most stunning young woman Bull had ever seen.

His eyes took her in—a mane of silky blond hair that framed her face in soft waves; cushiony pink lips; silvery eyes, their expression mysterious and unreadable.

As the shock wore off, Bull realized he was staring at Susan Rutledge.

Her mouth widened in a smile that left her beautiful eyes unchanged. “Why it’s Bull Tyler!” she exclaimed. “Come sit down with us. How have you been?”

“About the same,” Bull answered. “Ranching takes up most of my time.”

Ferg’s arm tightened possessively around her. He glared at Bull, as if daring him to say anything about last night.

Susan gave Ferg a playful glance. She was wearing a black tank top that bared her creamy throat and shoulders and showed off her womanly figure. The two of them were drinking chocolate shakes. She cradled her tall glass between her manicured hands. Bull was remembering those hands from before, the nails bitten to the quick, when he noticed something else—something that made him feel as if his heart had dropped into the pit of his stomach.

On the third finger of her left hand, Susan was wearing a ring with an impressive-looking diamond.

“How do you like it?” Noticing his interest, she held out her hand, tilting it to let the diamond catch the light. “It belonged to Ferg’s mother. We just got engaged yesterday.”

“Congratulations.” Bull had to force the word. “I guess, since you’re just stepcousins, that makes it all right.”

“Hell, this is Texas. It’d be all right even if we weren’t,” Ferg muttered, then laughed at his own joke.

“When’s the big day?” Bull’s Coke tasted like acid in his mouth. “Not anytime soon,” Susan said. “I want to go to college for at least a year. After that, we’ll see.”

“I just wanted to get my brand on this filly before I turn ’er loose to run with the herd,” Ferg said.

Bull stifled a groan. He couldn’t help wondering what Bonnie thought about Ferg’s engagement. But then, knowing Bonnie, it probably wouldn’t make much difference.

“Bull, honey, your pizzas are done,” Bonnie called from behind the counter.

Bull slid out of the booth, glad to be away from the two lovebirds—although they didn’t seem all that lovey. Ferg was acting like he’d just bought a prize heifer. And Bull hadn’t missed Susan’s strained smile or the resigned look in her gray eyes. He congratulated the pair again, picked up the two pizza boxes, and headed out the door. As he carried them to the truck, Susan’s words, spoken two summers ago, echoed in his memory.

I’ll be back, Bull Tyler! And the next time

I kiss you, I want that awful tobacco taste gone so I can do it right!