Texas Forever

by Janet Dailey

  “If I were going to be here longer, I’d help you,” Beau said. “As it is, feel free to call me about what you find out. At least I might be able to give you some suggestions.”

  “Thanks, I was hoping you’d say that.”

  They were passing the windmill when the sharp ring of metal on metal reached their ears. Beau gave Erin a questioning look.

  “That’s the farrier Dad hired. He claims the work will pay for itself in time saved by the cowboys and in the condition of the horses. I argued against the expense, and I still have my doubts. But at least the man—Maddox is his name—seems to know what he’s doing. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

  The largest pen was covered at one end by an open shed. In its shade, Luke Maddox was shoeing a brown and white gelding with Appaloosa markings. More horses drowsed nearby as Luke, with his back to the fence, shaped a shoe on the anvil he’d set up. Even in the shade, the heat was oppressive. Luke had tossed aside his shirt. Perspiration gleamed like bronze on his muscular torso. As he raised his hammer, a picture from her school days flashed through Erin’s memory—the Roman god Vulcan standing over his forge, virile and powerful. Vulcan in blue jeans she titled the image in her mind. Luke would probably laugh at her if he knew what she was thinking.

  What would it be like, hearing him laugh?

  Luke’s attention had been focused on the horseshoe he was shaping. As Erin and Beau came to the fence, he glanced up. A questioning look flashed in his eyes. He straightened, lowering the hammer to his side. What the hell are you doing here? his expression seemed to say.

  “Luke, I’d like you to meet my uncle, Beau Tyler,” Erin said, making the introductions. “Beau, I’ve already told you about Luke Maddox.”

  Beau extended a hand over the fence. Luke held up a work-stained hand and shook his head. “You won’t want to shake hands with me, Mr. Tyler. Not unless you want to smell like horse. I never knew Will had a brother.”

  “I live in DC. I only came for the funeral,” Beau said.

  “DC? You’re a government man?”

  “That’s right. DEA.” Beau’s gaze shifted to the horseshoe on the anvil. “I’ve never seen a farrier work. You don’t use a forge?”

  Luke shook his head. “Cold shoeing’s a lot more common these days. These steel shoes can be bought to size and hammered into the exact shape the horse needs. I have a forge, but I only use it for custom work. On a scorcher like today, that suits me fine.” He wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “You’re welcome to watch. I don’t mind questions as long as I can talk and work at the same time.”

  “There’s plenty of food in the house,” Erin said. “Could we bring you a plate?”

  “Thanks, but I’ll be fine.” He inspected the shoe. Then he moved to the horse’s side, lifted one front foot and braced it against the leather apron. Positioning the shoe, he hammered two small nails into the outer rim of the hoof, checked again, then hammered two more. The horse stood calmly, in complete trust of this powerful, gentle man.

  “I could watch you all day,” Beau said. “But I’d better get back and make sure my wife isn’t looking for me. Nice to meet you, Maddox.”

  Luke was snubbing off the nail points where they came up through the hoof. He looked up with a murmured acknowledgment as Beau and Erin turned away.

  “Not exactly a warm, fuzzy sort, is he?” Beau said when they were out of Luke’s hearing. “How much do you know about the man? Where’d he come from?”

  “I have no idea,” Erin said. “Dad found him on another ranch and hired him to come here. The only thing I’ve heard him talk about is work.” Except for when he told me not to come around him without a blasted chaperone.

  “As Jasper would say, the man plays his cards close to his vest.”

  “Yes, that’s what Jasper would say.” Erin fought back her welling emotion. “Oh, Beau, we’re going to miss him so much. The ranch won’t be the same without him.”

  “I know,” Beau said. “And looking around at the drought, I can tell this is a tough time for the Rimrock. I never meant to put Will in such a bind. I thought we were making a fair deal when I asked him to buy me out.”

  “We’d have been all right if the weather and the market hadn’t changed.”

  Beau sighed. “Will won’t even talk to me about the ranch troubles. I feel bad for the bind I’ve put him in. I’d even be willing to help out with some cash if he’d ask me.”

  “He won’t ask,” Erin said. “He’s got the Bull Tyler pride.”

  They were nearing the house. Beau stopped short of the back door. “There’s one person you haven’t told me about,” he said.

  “Who’s that?” Erin asked.

  “It’s you. I see you looking after everyone and everything around here. But who’s looking after Erin Tyler?”

  “I’m nineteen. I don’t need looking after.”

  “Not even by yourself? You’re pretty and smart and have your whole life ahead of you. You could be having fun, maybe going to college or seeing the world.”

  “I could. But how could I leave my dad alone to manage the ranch, especially now? This is where I need to be—where I want to be. It’s my home.”

  “But what about your personal life? Surely you’ll want to get married and have a family.”

  She gave him a frown. “I do have a boyfriend. He’s even proposed.”

  “Did you say yes?” Beau asked.

  “I said it was too soon.”

  “Do you love him, Erin?”

  The question shook her. “I’m not even sure I know what love is.”

  “Well, make sure you do before you say yes.”

  “I’m not a fool,” Erin said.

  “No, but you’re young and you have a lot to learn. Don’t be in a hurry. Call me if you want to talk.”

  Erin didn’t answer. They had reached the back door. Through the screen, she could see people in the kitchen, putting paper plates in the trash. She’d been glad for the chance to talk with Beau. But she couldn’t help feeling a vague sense of disloyalty to her father. Beau had invited her to call him. But it wasn’t going to happen. Not if it might distress Will.

  As she helped herself to leftovers on the buffet table, she looked around for Kyle and his mother. They were nowhere to be seen. A glance out the front window confirmed that their car was gone.

  Kyle was probably sore at her for avoiding him after the funeral. Never mind. She’d make it up to him later, after they’d both had some time to cool down.

  Do you love him, Erin?

  Beau’s question lingered in her mind. She’d replied that she didn’t even know what love was. But that wasn’t quite true. Love was what she’d observed between her mother and father, between Sky and Lauren, between Beau and Natalie—and what she’d heard in Jasper’s voice when he’d spoken of his beloved Sally. She had secondhand knowledge of what love was. But as far as she could tell, she’d never experienced it, not even when Kyle was kissing her.

  She wanted a husband and family in the future. But what if something was missing in her? What would she do if love never happened?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  BY THE TIME LUKE HAD SHOD HIS SIXTEENTH HORSE FOR THE DAY and turned it out to graze, the sun was sinking behind the escarpment. Even at day’s end, its searing fire blazed like a brand against the pitiless blue sky. Heat waves shimmered over the gravel in the ranch yard. Blown by a stray breeze, a dust devil swirled across the pasture and vanished behind a clump of mesquite.

  Dripping with sweat and aching in every muscle, Luke stowed the anvil and his tools in the trailer he’d parked alongside the barn. That done, he picked up an empty bucket, filled it with cold water from the pump, and tipped it over his head. The cold water flowed through his hair, trickled over his face, and streamed down his chest and back. He shuddered as the icy cascade gave his senses a welcome shock. The shed’s corrugated metal roof had lent some shade, but working in the space below had been like standing under a broiler.

&
nbsp; Recovering, he sluiced the water off his chest and arms, slicked back his hair, and reached for the chambray work shirt he’d tossed over a fence rail. By the time he made it to the bunkhouse kitchen, his body would be dry enough to slip the shirt on.

  Shadows lengthened as he crossed the yard. The warm evening breeze carried the aromas of simmering ham and beans and fresh biscuits. Luke hadn’t eaten since breakfast and his empty belly rumbled with a working man’s hunger. He had no complaints about the meals here. The food was nothing fancy, but it was good, and there was plenty of it.

  Other men would be coming in, too. The cowhands who shared the bunkhouse seemed friendly enough, but Luke, by habit, kept to himself. He seldom stayed long enough in any one place to make close friends. If things worked out, he’d be with the Rimrock through the fall roundup. Then, with winter weather coming on and no more horses to shoe, he’d likely head south to the big ranches that ran cattle year round. There were bosses down there who knew him and would have need of his skill.

  Or he could go home to Oklahoma, where he’d been raised, and spend time with the elderly grandmother whose nursing home care he paid for. It cost a lot to keep her in a good place, but she had taken him in when he had nowhere to go. Aside from the half brother he’d lost touch with years ago, she was his only living relative. Almost ninety, she was too hard of hearing to use a phone, but he sent her monthly letters, which the caregivers read to her. And he kept the staff informed of his whereabouts—something he’d need to do again in the next few days.

  Most of the time, he avoided thinking about his half brother Bart. Thoughts of Bart only triggered the nightmarish memory that had plagued him for years.

  Eleven years his senior, Bart had reluctantly taken in twelve-year-old Luke. Life with Bart and his Comanche wife, sleeping on the sofa in their one-bedroom apartment and holding his ears against the noise coming through the bedroom door, had been no picnic. Neither had washing his clothes in the bathroom sink and going to school hungry most days. But at least he’d had a roof over his head, and he could look forward to the day when he’d be old enough to leave and get a job.

  Then one night, everything had changed. Luke had been jarred out of sleep by the sounds of a drunken fight. He’d rushed into the kitchen to find a nightmare scene.

  Brandishing a butcher knife, Bart had backed his wife into a corner. As Luke watched in horror, he’d slashed her face from her temple to the corner of her mouth. Amid the bleeding and screaming, Luke had thrown the woman a towel, ordered his drunken brother out of sight, and called 911 for an ambulance. That was the last he’d seen of her.

  The police had never been called, but Bart had paid the price for what he’d done. His wife’s brothers had caught him alone and beaten him up so badly that he’d suffered head injuries and been forced to go on permanent disability. A few months later, when Bart had been arrested for stealing to support his drug habit, Luke’s widowed grandmother, who owned a small farm, had taken in the traumatized boy and given him the love and support he’d needed. Paying for her care now was the least Luke could do.

  The call of a whip-poor-will brought Luke’s thoughts back to the present. In the big house, a single light had come on. Except for visiting family, the funeral guests had gone. Only the white Camry with rental plates remained parked among the family vehicles.

  He remembered the sight of Erin in her simple blue dress, her loose-blowing hair catching the sunlight. His memory lingered for a moment on the way the sleeveless top had clung to the firm peaks of her breasts and narrowed around her tiny waist. The first sight of her had stopped his breath. Then he’d noticed the tall, handsome man with her and wondered if she’d picked up an older boyfriend. Luke’s relief, when she’d introduced the stranger as her uncle, had caught him by surprise. Why the hell should it matter? For all he cared, the man could be her sugar daddy.

  All he wanted from the Rimrock Ranch was a season of steady work and enough money to pay for a few months of his grandmother’s care, with cash left over to get him to wherever he was going next. The last thing he needed was the distraction of Will Tyler’s sexy little princess daughter.

  Forcing her image from his mind, he slipped on his shirt, buttoned it, and lengthened his stride toward the bunkhouse.

  * * *

  Erin took Kyle’s phone call in the kitchen, where she’d been cleaning up after an informal supper. He was sweetly repentant, apologizing for his earlier behavior and for being forced to escort his mother to the funeral.

  “Mom was so emotional,” he said. “I didn’t know that she’d ever even met the old man. But when she took your dad’s hand, I thought she was going to cry. I wanted to come and find you, but she wouldn’t leave my side.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Erin said. “I was busy the whole time.”

  “I know you’ll be going to the Hill Country for the burial tomorrow,” he said. “But I’m hoping we can spend some time together next week. Maybe we could even drive into Lubbock for a movie and dinner. We’ve gotten into a rut with the Burger Shack. It’s time we had a real date. How does that sound?”

  “Not bad,” she hedged. “Let me check Dad’s schedule and see when he can spare me.”

  “You’re not still mad at me, are you?”

  “Of course not.” Erin could almost picture his puppy dog expression. “I’ll call you on Monday. We can make plans then.”

  She ended the call, wondering why she wasn’t more eager for an evening in the city. It wasn’t as if she was still angry with Kyle. It was more like she didn’t care—as if her attitude had undergone a subtle shift. Maybe it had something to do with Beau’s advice to take her time until she was sure of her feelings.

  Drying her hands on a dish towel, she walked into the den, where Will and Rose were watching a newscast on the big screen TV. Beau’s family had gone into town for pizza, probably to avoid any chance of an ugly confrontation over the evening meal.

  “Here you are,” her father said, using the remote to switch off the TV. “Sit down. I have a big favor to ask of you.”

  Erin sank onto a footstool, knowing that, coming from her dad, any request for a favor would be more like an order.

  “You may not like it,” he said.

  Erin braced herself and waited for him to continue.

  “Tomorrow, when we take Jasper to the Hill Country, I’ll need somebody to stay behind and supervise the ranch work,” he said. “The best person available for that job is you.”

  Erin stifled a murmur of disappointment. She’d wanted to make the drive and see Jasper laid to rest. But she was old enough to know that ranch duties had to come first. “I thought Pete Waxman was going to do that,” she said. “He’s been here long enough to handle things.”

  “Pete’s had a family emergency. He’ll be gone most of next week. And since Sky will be going with us tomorrow, we’ll need somebody in charge who knows the horses and can make sure Maddox has enough work.”

  Maddox. Something that felt like a coiled spring tightened in Erin’s stomach. The surly farrier wasn’t going to like her bossing him. But that was his problem.

  “As long as you’re staying here,” Will continued, “you may as well clean out Jasper’s side of the duplex. Throw away the junk, box his clothes and things for donation, and save anything that looks important. I know that might be hard on you, Erin, but somebody’s got to do the job. Strip the bed and put out clean sheets for Maddox. You can leave the dishes and some coffee, too.”

  “Maddox?” It was more of a protest than a question. “But Jasper lived in that duplex for years. It was his home.”

  “Well, it’s not like he’s coming back,” Will said. “Maddox is a tradesman, not a cowhand. He deserves better quarters than the bunkhouse. You can tell him it was my decision.”

  Erin sighed and nodded. On the Rimrock, even for her, Will’s word was law. But she wasn’t looking forward to the next day.

  As if sensing some tension, Rose broached a different subject
. “Erin, I met your young man and his mother at the luncheon today,” she said.

  “My young man?” Erin didn’t recall having told Rose about Kyle.

  “That’s how his mother introduced him to me,” Rose said. “Not as your young man—I suppose that’s an old-fashioned term these days—but as your boyfriend. He seemed very nice and polite—and handsome, too. Of course, it’ll take more than a pretty face and good manners to make the kind of husband you’ll want to stand by your side and help you run this ranch someday.”

  Erin had learned that Rose tended to speak her mind. But even she was startled by the older woman’s frankness.

  “Kyle’s young,” Will said. “He’s got a lot to learn. But his father manages the old Prescott Ranch for the syndicate. He’s a capable man. I’m guessing that given time, his son will be the same.”

  Erin had to stop her jaw from dropping. She’d guessed that her father approved of her dating Kyle. But she’d never expected Will to defend him, let alone talk as if he might have plans for their future.

  Arguments sprang into her mind. She was only nineteen. She hadn’t made up her mind about Kyle. She wasn’t even sure she was in love. But Erin kept her silence. Her dad had been through an emotional three days. He deserved some peace. They could talk later. Right now, there was only one thing to do.

  Rising from her seat, she said a subdued good night and walked out of the room.

  The long day had drained her. But it was too early to go to bed, and she was too restless to settle somewhere and read the novel she’d started. After the luncheon, she’d shed her dress and sandals and changed into jeans, sneakers, and a plain black tank top. Now she wandered out the front door and onto the porch.

  The night was warm, the breeze no more than a whisper. She inhaled the parched air, yearning for the fresh scent of rain. But there was nothing to smell but dust, blended with the odors of horses and cattle and the lingering aromas of ham and beans that drifted from the bunkhouse kitchen. A mosquito whined around her ears. She brushed it away. The pesky insects had never plagued her like they did some people. They’d never bothered Will, either. Maybe there was something in Tyler blood that drove them away.