Texas Fierce (The Tylers of Texas 4)
At the curb, Ferg helped Edith into the backseat of the convertible and climbed in beside her. The reverend hurried out with two battered suitcases, one large and one smaller. Ham stowed them in the trunk and, with Garn in the front passenger seat, headed back to the ranch.
Ferg slipped an arm around his bride. At least he wouldn’t have to pick her up on the corner for sex. But there was something about sneaking around that gave him a rush. He would miss that—and the time would come, he knew, when he’d go looking for it again.
No need for a honeymoon. By tomorrow, he’d be back in the saddle. Edith would be settling into the house and, he hoped, Ham would take over showing Garn around the ranch. For all Ferg cared, Ham could raise the kid.
Maybe in time he’d get used to the new arrangement. But now, as he glared at the back of his father’s head, the only emotion Ferg felt was a burning hatred.
* * *
On Monday, Ham called Susan’s parents to tell them about Ferg’s wedding. The news sent Vivian to her room with a pounding migraine. It sent Cliff to his liquor cabinet for a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.
Susan was on the patio, browsing the course catalog for the university’s fall semester, when her father came outside with a half-emptied glass in his hand.
“I just talked to Ham,” he said. “Ferg got a preacher’s daughter pregnant. He’s married.”
For the space of a breath, Susan could scarcely believe what she’d heard. Then, as the news sank in, it was as if a pressing weight had lifted off her shoulders. Free at last!
“Well, what have you got to say?” Cliff demanded.
She hesitated, then shrugged. “Would congratulations be appropriate?”
Cliff emptied the glass, yanked out the chair on the opposite side of the table, and sat down. “Don’t you understand what this means? That ranch could’ve doubled the value of our family holdings, not just for you but for your children and generations to come. Now it’s gone, and it’s your fault.”
“My fault? Not Ferg’s?” Susan laid the catalog on the table. “He’d already had one child with that girl. Now there’s another one, and you say it’s my fault?”
“If you hadn’t broken up with Ferg, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“I told you why I broke up with Ferg. This isn’t the eighteen hundreds. A woman doesn’t have to put up with a man’s sneaking off at night. And she doesn’t have to let herself be auctioned off like a prize heifer, to whoever can put up the most cash.”
Cliff’s hand swept the table, knocking the catalog and the empty glass onto the tiles. The glass shattered on impact. Susan bent to pick up the shards.
“Leave that for the maid!” Cliff snapped. “I’m still talking to you! Ham told me something else. According to Ferg, it was Bull Tyler who caused your breakup.”
Susan felt the awful weight settle in again. She’d taken pains to keep Bull’s name out of the conflict with her parents. Now the game had changed, and not in a good way.
“That’s not true,” she said. “I broke up with Ferg because he was seeing a woman in town—I told you that, remember? Bull had nothing to do with it.”
“I met Bull Tyler that night when he came to dinner. Proud, stubborn young fool without two nickels to rub together. When Ham and I offered to invest in his ranch as partners, he turned us down flat. You can’t eat that kind of pride, girl. You can’t wear it or drive it or live with it over your head. Marry that man and you’ll be dirt poor all your life. Is that what you want?”
“What I want is to be responsible for my own choices. That’s something I’ve put off too long.” Susan rose and picked up the catalog that had fallen on the tiles. “Tomorrow I plan to start looking for a job. When I find one, I’ll look for an apartment.”
“And college? Don’t expect any help from us if you walk out.”
“I’ll work to pay for it myself, or get a student loan.”
“Go ahead,” her father said. “Once you see how tough it is out there, living in some roach-infested walk-up and slinging burgers or scrubbing toilets, you’ll be back. You’ll see.”
Susan walked into the house without answering. In spite of everything, she loved her parents. Once she was on her own, she might be able to have a better relationship with them. But as long as she was living under their roof, and spending their money, they would feel justified in controlling her life.
That night, on the pretext of an errand, she drove to a hotel with pay phones in the lobby and placed a call to Bull.
“My parents know about you,” she told him.
“How much?” His voice, as always, calmed her.
“Certainly not everything, but enough to raise some flags. Ham told them that Ferg blames you for breaking my engagement.”
“So you know Ferg’s married.”