Texas Fierce (The Tylers of Texas 4)

“What I want is to kill you.” Bull’s voice was low and icily calm. “But I came here to give you a warning. Stay away from the Rimrock. Stay away from me, and from anybody I care about. I have evidence to place you on my property, shooting my cattle, the night your father died. Keep your distance and I won’t press charges. There are other things I could do as well—but we’re both adults, and you’ve got a family now. We’re getting too old for fistfights and silly pranks. Don’t you agree?”

“What about Susan?” Ferg asked the question, knowing it would sting.

Bull flinched, the only sign that he could still be vulnerable. When he spoke again, a trace of emotion had crept into his voice. “Susan’s gone for now. But wherever she is, if I hear that you’ve so much as breathed on her, so help me, I will kill you, damn the consequences. Don’t doubt it if you value your life. Do we understand each other?”

“I’d say so. You leave me alone, and I’ll leave you alone. It sounds like a sensible bargain.” Ferg rose. Neither man extended a hand.

“Fine. As long as it’s settled, I’ll be going. Don’t bother to show me out.” Bull turned and, at an unhurried pace, walked back down the hall and left by the front door.

Ferg slumped in his father’s chair. To his surprise, he was sweating like a horse.

* * *

Bull picked up two extra-large pizzas and a six-pack of Mexican beer in town. After returning to the ranch, he took half the booty out to the boys in the bunkhouse. He shared the rest with Jasper while they watched a rerun of the past weekend’s regional rodeo finals.

When the broadcast was over, they wandered outside and sat on the porch steps. In the late-night sky, the crescent moon was a silver scimitar amid the stars. The windmill creaked softly, turned by a breeze that smelled of sage and cattle. Bull filled his lungs, savoring the scents and sounds of home.

Lord, he loved this place, this ranch. He’d never wanted to come back here but the land was part of him, and always had been. His father had been right, the land was everything.

“When do you figure it’ll be safe to bring Rose back?” Jasper asked. “I miss that spunky little gal.”

“Not for a while yet,” Bull said. “She’s in a good place, with good people. And if she were to come back now, she could still be in danger from Ferg. I know he said he’d leave us alone, but I don’t trust the bastard.”

“I see.” Jasper’s terse comment spoke volumes. Bull knew he was thinking of the land that was rightfully Rose’s. But that issue could wait until she was older. He’d do right by her then.

Jasper rolled a cigarette from the pouch in his pocket and lit it with a miniature dime-store lighter. He smoked in silence a few moments before he spoke again.

“So when are you goin’ to come to your senses and call Susan?” Jasper asked.

The sound of her name triggered a stab of longing. Bull struggled to ignore it. “I don’t know if she’d even have me,” he said. “I was pretty brutal.”

And he had been. He’d thought he was doing the right thing, telling her to go away. But he was just beginning to realize how hurtful he’d been.

And how much he still wanted her . . .

“She’d have you, all right. The gal was a real trooper while you were locked up. Helped around the place and everything. Hell, you wouldn’t even be here if she hadn’t figured out where Ham’s pistol had gone to.”

“I know that,” Bull said. “This isn’t about Susan. She’s everything I could ever want. But how can I give her any kind of future? I just got out of jail. I can barely support this place, let alone a quality woman like her. And the house—”

“For once in your life, shut up, Bull!” Jasper snapped. “What makes you think everything has to be exactly the way you want it? Hell, life isn’t perfect. You have to learn to be happy and make the most of what you’ve got, even when there are things you can’t change.”

“You mean like the way my father died—and me not being able to put it to rest?”

“Hey, we were talkin’ about you and Susan,” Jasper said. “Where did that come from?”

Bull turned to face his most trusted friend. He’d long suspected that Jasper was keeping secrets about his father’s death. If his suspicions were right, it was time to demand the truth.

“You know I’ve never felt like I knew the whole story,” he said. “Locked in that cell, I got pretty black. Not just about Susan but about my whole damned life. I must’ve spent hours thinking about my dad, how hard he was on me and what he went through to save this place for me. If he slipped or jumped off that cliff, I’ll deal with that. But if somebody killed him, I need to see justice done. I need to make it right.”

Jasper didn’t reply.

“For a long time I thought it might’ve been the Prescotts,” Bull continued. “But Ham swore that it wasn’t. So I got to thinking of those people up on the caprock—Krishna and Steve and the rest. They were living up there when my dad died. Maybe they did it. Maybe he saw something they didn’t want him to see.”

Jasper laid a hand on his arm. “Let it go, Bull. Forget it. Marry that beautiful woman and move on with your life. That’s what Williston would have wanted you to do.”

“But—”

“No.” Jasper tossed his burning cigarette butt into the yard. “That’s enough, damn it. It wasn’t the Prescotts that killed him. And it wasn’t those fool hippies up top.”