Texas Fierce (The Tylers of Texas 4)
“I already know what you did. One of the men told me about it. He also told me that we lost four head of prime beef in that fool stampede you started. Do you have any idea how much money those steers were worth?”
“It was Bull who shot ’em. Go after him.”
“He was within his rights. They were on his property and posing a danger to him and his men.”
“What about the water he was getting ready to steal?”
“This isn’t the eighteen hundreds. You can’t just go charging onto another man’s property and wreck what he’s building. Bull Tyler could take us to court for this.”
“You didn’t say that when we pulled over his windmill.”
“No, but maybe I should’ve. Bull and I had agreed not to fight over that water. You violated our agreement.”
“You could’ve told me! Don’t I have a right to know what’s going on around here?”
“Maybe if you paid attention, I’d tell you more.” Ham gave him a cold look. “No more shenanigans, hear? Maybe you ought to grow up and take a page out of Bull’s book. While you’re chasing women and pulling schoolboy tricks, he’s running that hardscrabble ranch by himself.”
“Damn you to hell!” Ferg was on his feet. “Why are you defending him? I’m your son! I was trying to protect our water! I thought you’d be proud of me!”
“I’ll be proud of you when you start acting like a man.” Ham shrugged, glancing up at the sound of a light rap on the door. “Yes? Come in.”
The aging cook stood in the doorway. “Bull Tyler’s here to see you, Boss. He’s waitin’ in the parlor.”
Ham’s frown deepened. “Send him in. And you—” He gave Ferg a dismissive glare. “Go outside and do something useful for a change.”
* * *
“The boss says you can go on back.” The aging cook, still wearing his stained apron, gave Bull the message and hobbled off toward the kitchen.
As Bull rose, Ferg came storming out of the hallway. Pausing, he cast Bull a look of pure hatred. Bull braced for a showdown, but Ferg wheeled abruptly, crossed the living room, and stalked out the front door. Bull resisted the urge to follow him outside and beat him until he whimpered for mercy. Not now, he told himself. His business was with Ham today. He would deal with Ferg later, at a time and place of his own choosing.
The door to Ham’s office stood partway open. Bull rapped lightly, walked in without waiting for a reply, and closed the door behind him.
Ham didn’t get up. “If you’re here about the damage to your water tank, I’ve already talked with Ferg. He wasn’t acting on my orders. That stampede was his idea, not mine.”
“I figured as much.” Bull remained standing. “That’s why you aren’t under arrest for murder. But placing blame won’t pay for the damage to my property. I want compensation for the pipe and the liner, plus what I had to pay my workers to install them.”
“What about my four steers, the ones you shot?”
“Ferg ran them onto my property. He’s damned lucky they didn’t kill anybody. Maybe you should ask him to pay me.”
“Why should anybody pay you? You took a chance, putting in that pipe and tank. You knew you were courting trouble.”
“I had a right to do that on my own property and to take my share of the water. I checked the law books to make sure.” Actually, Bull had done no more than make an educated guess, based on what Jasper had told him, but he figured Ham wouldn’t know any better.
“What if I say I won’t pay you?”
“We talked about that. You know what I can do.”
“You and that damned secret witness of yours. All for shooting a worthless old hermit who wouldn’t sell me his land.” Ham muttered an oath, opened a drawer, and took out his checkbook. “How much?”
“Five hundred should do it.”
Ham filled out the check and tore it off but made no move to hand it over. “You know this is blackmail, don’t you?” he said.
Bull gave him a slow, deliberate grin. “Not this time. It’s just restitution.”
“For all I know, you could be bluffing,” Ham said, holding out the check. “Maybe that witness of yours doesn’t even exist.”