Texas Forever (The Tylers of Texas 6)

Luke

Fighting tears, she refolded the note and stuffed it into her pocket. She couldn’t stand the thought of going back to the house to face Rose, Carmen, and possibly her father. Instead she crossed the yard to the stallion barn, went inside, and opened Tesoro’s stall. Her stallion nickered a greeting and thrust his elegant head toward her. She spoke to him, pressing her face against his neck. When the tears threatened to come, she found a brush and began grooming his satiny coat, over the withers, down the shoulders, and along the back. The big palomino quivered with pleasure.

Don’t cry. Erin focused on the rhythm of the brush and the response of her horse. Don’t cry. You’re a big girl now. You’re going to be all right....

“Erin.”

She didn’t recognize the male voice behind her until she turned and saw Deputy Roy Porter standing at the entrance to the stall. Partway behind him, half hidden in shadow, was Rose.

Erin’s throat had gone dry. What if something had happened to Luke? She forced the words. “What is it? Tell me.”

“Something’s happened to your father, Erin,” Roy said. “He was shot on his way home.”

“My father? Shot?” Erin’s knees went weak as she grasped at denial. No! There had to be a mistake! Nobody would shoot Will! He was too strong, like a rock—her rock.

But surely he’d be all right. She would go rushing into the hospital to find him sitting up in bed, smiling at her, joking about his wound and warning her not to hug him too tightly.

“Where is he?” she asked. “How badly is he hurt?”

Rose came forward, her face a mask of anguish. She took Erin’s hand, gripping it painfully with her small, strong fingers. “Will’s dead, Erin,” she said. “Somebody killed him.”

* * *

The next hours passed in a blur of pain-induced shock. Erin functioned like an automaton, doing what had to be done. She was the boss of the Rimrock now. Private grief would have to wait.

Sky was on the mountain with the cattle. When Erin called his cell phone from the office, there was no answer—service was spotty at best up there. She left a voice message and another message with his wife, Lauren. Rose had offered to make the call to Beau. Erin insisted on doing it herself, even though giving Will’s brother the news almost broke her.

“Are you all right, Erin?” he asked.

“I’ll have to be all right, won’t I?”

“I’ll be on the next plane out. We’ve got to find the bastard who did this.”

Erin ended the call and sank into Will’s big, old leather chair—the chair that had long since conformed to the shape of the rangy, muscular Tyler men. The yearning to see her father again and beg his forgiveness for walking out in anger from last night’s supper table was like a cry inside her. How could she have known she would never hear his voice or see his face again?

Outside, the sheriff had arrived. He and Roy were already interviewing the ranch hands who’d been around that morning. They’d talked to Erin and Rose as well, and to Carmen, who’d been the last to see Will before he left for town.

Erin knew that the lawmen wouldn’t tell her everything they learned. But it was hard to imagine anyone on the ranch wanting to kill her father. Will was—had been—a tough boss, but he was liked and respected by all the men. Could his murder—and that was the word Erin would have to get accustomed to—have something to do with the strange figure she and Luke had seen prowling around the ranch? She had mentioned that to Roy again, but he’d been dismissive of the notion. The killer, whoever it was, had known that Will would be coming back from town, and had set up an ambush to shoot him.

The office door stood ajar. Sheriff Harger gave a light rap, then walked in without an invitation. A heavyset man in late middle age, with a thick, iron-gray mustache, he’d grown up in Blanco County. He knew every inch of the land and most of the people who lived on it.

“I’m right sorry about your dad, Erin,” he said. “What a god-awful shock, that somebody would shoot a man like Will.”

Erin murmured a polite thank-you, but something told her the sheriff hadn’t come inside to offer condolences.

“I’ve been talking to the hands,” he said. “Two of them told me they heard a big row in the barn this morning between Will and the farrier he’d hired—a man named Luke Maddox.”

Erin’s stomach clenched. Luke would never do anything to hurt Will. But the fact that they’d had an argument a few hours before Will was murdered had to look suspicious.

“From what I heard, it was Will doing the shouting,” the sheriff said. “He was telling Maddox to keep away from his daughter. Do you know anything about that?”

Erin rose to her feet. “Yes. Luke and I wanted to spend time together. He insisted that I tell my father first. I did. My father didn’t like the idea.”

“Did you know about the argument?”

“Not until now. Rose and I were working on her land all morning. You already know that.”

“And Maddox? What happened to him?”