by Janet Dailey
By the time she reached the porch, Beau’s family had gone into the house without noticing her. Her ankle was throbbing, but she’d had her share of injuries before. She would wrap it with an elastic bandage and be all right in the morning.
Pausing on the top step, she turned in the direction of the paddock and waved her hand in an okay sign. From the darkness by the corral, beyond the reach of the security light, she caught the answering blink of a flashlight.
* * *
Beau and his family left before dawn the next morning, leaving no trace of their visit except the beds they’d slept in. Will and Erin were there to see them off, but Erin couldn’t help noticing a distinct coldness between the brothers.
At five thirty, Erin joined Will, Rose, and Sky for breakfast at the kitchen table. They’d be leaving for the Hill Country as soon as the meal was over. Rose was alert and animated, the men subdued, as if they were still waking up over their coffee.
“Any questions before we go, Erin?” Will asked. “Are you squared away to take over for the day?”
“I’ll be fine. I know what needs to be done.” Erin’s ankle was tightly wrapped beneath her boot. It still pained her but it was well braced. She knew better than to mention the injury to her father.
“Maddox will be checking the brood mares and stallions and starting on the remuda,” Will said. “That should be enough to keep him busy. If he needs help controlling a horse, call somebody. The rest of the boys know their jobs. Unless something unexpected comes up, they should do fine. Just make sure they know you’re watching, so they don’t slack off. You should have plenty of time to clean out Jasper’s side of the duplex.”
His voice broke slightly when he spoke of his lifetime friend. Although Bull Tyler had loved his sons, Jasper had been the patient, nurturing father figure who’d made up for Bull’s harshness, especially in Bull’s later life.
Will turned to Rose. “You’ll have a new neighbor when you get back here,” he said. “We’ll be moving Maddox, the farrier, into Jasper’s old quarters.”
Rose smiled. “Well, I won’t complain about having a handsome, young neighbor. But I’ll miss the long talks Jasper and I had on that porch, sitting in those old chairs and watching the moon come up.”
“I miss them, too,” Sky said. “I lived in the other side of the duplex for years before I got married. Those talks with Jasper gave me enough wisdom to last the rest of my life.” He put down his coffee cup with an ironic twist of a smile. “Almost enough wisdom to keep me from making a fool of myself.”
“I don’t believe that, Sky,” Erin said. “You would never make a fool of yourself.”
“Clearly, you haven’t asked my wife about that.” He rose from his place. “I’ll bring the truck around.”
The cost of having the hearse transport Jasper’s body to the Hill Country would have been more than the ranch could afford. Will had made long-distance arrangements for the grave to be dug in the cemetery next to the country church where Jasper and his Sally would have been wed. The grave would be waiting when the casket arrived in the covered bed of Will’s pickup, where it was resting now, wrapped in blankets and cushioned for the long, sometimes rough drive.
Jasper would have approved, Erin thought as she watched the truck drive away and vanish down the graveled lane that led to the main highway. He’d never been one for fancy trappings.
The ranch hands were already at their morning chores—feeding the stock, filling the water troughs, cleaning the pens and barns, and putting fresh straw in the stalls. Luke would be pitching in until breakfast time. After that, he would set up his equipment in the shed and begin his real workday. Sky had left instructions, but it would be up to Erin to make doubly sure that Luke had horses available and any other help he might need.
For now, it might be a good idea to show up around the ranch yard, let the men know she was in charge, and alert herself to any problems that might have come up, such as a sick animal or a damaged fence. It would mean a lot of walking on her sore ankle, but it wasn’t like a Tyler to show pain, she reminded herself. Trying not to limp, she set out across the yard.
The hands knew her—and they were decent men. Will didn’t knowingly hire any other kind. They greeted her cheerfully. A few of the old cowboys joked about her being the new boss, but it was all in fun. She had no reason to expect trouble from any of them.
Except, maybe, the kind of trouble that played havoc with her pulse when she was with Luke Maddox.
She found Luke in the stallion barn, forking hay from a wheelbarrow into the feeders. For a few moments she stood in the entrance, watching his smooth, sure movements. She’d noticed earlier how horses tended to stay calm around him. Something in the man’s demeanor inspired their trust. Even the high-strung stallions barely raised their elegant heads as he opened their roomy box stalls, refilled their feeders and water buckets, and took time to look them over, running his hand down their legs and nudging them to lift each hoof for inspection. It was as if he spoke a silent language that only he and the horses understood.
Sky had trained the animals to lift their feet so they could be easily shod. He had passed his methods on to Erin, who, he claimed, also had a natural ability with horses. But what she saw in Luke was not just skill born of experience. It was a pure instinct that bordered on magic.
Coming out of a stall, he caught sight of her. His dark eyes met hers, triggering a flash of memory—his strong arms cradling her across the paddock, the warm fragrance of his skin, his heart pounding next to her ear.
“Good morning, boss,” he said, giving the word a sardonic twist. “Any orders?”
Erin made sure her “business” mask was in place. “Sky told me you were set for the day. The brood mares are in the pen, waiting for you.”
“And their foals?” In the shadows, his deep-set eyes were the color of black coffee.
“The foals are with them,” Erin said. “Sky told me you didn’t want the mares separated from their babies.”
“Right. The mares will be calmer with their young ones close by.” Luke was all business, as they’d agreed he would be. It was as if last night had never happened. “I noticed that the mares were shod. If their hooves are in good shape, I’ll leave the shoes on them for now—unless you want them off in the rear. I’d recommend that if you’re going to breed them again soon. One good kick from a mare’s shod hoof can put a stallion out of business, sometimes for good.”
“Most of them are already pregnant, so let’s leave the shoes on for now. I’m sure Sky would agree with me.” Erin walked down the row of stalls to where Tesoro was kept. Hearing her voice, the stallion raised his head and nickered. She reached over the gate of the stall and stroked the golden arch of his neck, tangling her fingers in his creamy mane. Luke came up to stand beside her, studying the horse. When his shoulder brushed hers, Erin felt the contact as a spark of heat passing between them. She willed herself not to notice, but it was hard to forget that they were alone in the stable. If she were to turn toward him or reach out with her hand...
But nothing was going to happen. She stepped to one side, giving him more room.
“One more thing,” she said. “Remember to make sure I’m there when you work on Tesoro.”
“Not a problem. But I’ll need to know what you’ve decided about leaving his front hooves shod.”
“I thought about that. If it were early spring and Tesoro had a long breeding season ahead of him, I’d say take the shoes off. But by now, that’s mostly done. This fall, I’ll be riding him more, sometimes in rough country. So let’s leave him shod. The same goes for the other two stallions. They’ll be used as spares in the roundup. For that they’ll need shoes. Does that make sense?”
“Perfect sense,” he said. “One more question—earlier I noticed that Tesoro’s hooves had overgrown the shoes. I could trim the edges back, maybe replace the shoes with a better fit. You can decide when you get a better look at him outside. We can do him first if you want. Th
en you’ll be free for the day.”
“Thanks. For now I’ll be starting on the duplex. Let me know when you’re set up and ready.” She turned and walked away from him, toward the square of daylight at the end of the barn. She’d kept her word, she congratulated herself. She’d let the man know that she could be all business, like any other client.
“Erin.”
His voice stopped her short of the door. She turned back with a questioning look.
“You’re limping,” he said. “How’s the ankle?”
“Not bad. I’ve got it wrapped.”
“You should take it easy. You’ll only make it worse.”
“I’ll be fine, and I can’t take it easy today. I’ve got a job to do.” She lifted a hand and swept her hair off the back of her neck. “See you after breakfast.”
* * *
Luke muttered a curse as he watched her walk away, favoring the injured ankle. They’d agreed to keep things strictly business between them. But business had been the last thing on his mind as he’d stood next to her, watching her stroke her horse. Being alone with her, in the intimate space of the barn, it had been all he could do to keep from touching her—if only to lay a hand on her shoulder or brush his fingertips across the small of her back. Even that would have been a breach of conduct. Worse, it would have left him wanting more of what he mustn’t have.
Then there was that little hair toss as she walked away. He’d seen that flirting gesture more times than he could count. It was something women did, an unspoken invitation that said, Come and get me, cowboy. In Erin’s case, he could only believe that she’d done it unconsciously. But what if she hadn’t? What if she was playing games with him?
Forget it, Luke told himself. She was the boss’s daughter. She was barely out of high school, and she had a boyfriend who struck him as an entitled brat. He’d be crazy to give her so much as a wink.
He would shoe her horses, answer her questions, and treat her like the client she was. And he would do his best to forget the way she’d felt in his arms, or how his body had responded when he’d carried her out of the paddock last night.
That, as Luke had long since learned, was the only safe way to play it.
* * *
Clearing Jasper’s things out of the duplex turned out to be an easy but heart-wrenching task. Jasper Platt had been a man of simple tastes and few needs. In the alcove that served as a bedroom, his bed was neatly made with clean sheets already on it. His clothes were neatly laid in the dresser drawers or hung in the closet, where his good boots stood like soldiers at attention. Even looking at the possessions her lifelong friend would never touch again caused tears to well in Erin’s eyes.
Questions swirled and clashed. If it had been his time to die, why couldn’t it have been in peaceful sleep, or with his ranch family at his bedside? Why had he been taken alone in the rough land beyond the heart of the ranch? Had he been aware and afraid, or had life simply stopped for him?
And then there were the most tormenting questions of all—had another person been involved in Jasper’s death? Could Will, or anyone else, have saved him if they’d found him in time?
Jasper’s mahogany gun rack, a gift from Bull, was bolted to the wall next to the door. Erin was so familiar with his four guns that she could picture them with her eyes closed. There was the lightweight. 22 he’d owned since his boyhood. Erin had happy memories of Jasper teaching her to shoot with that little gun, using it to plink at bottles and tin cans. There was the Remington .30-06 rifle he used for hunting deer, coyotes, javelinas, and other game, and for the times he had to put a cow or horse out of its misery. His favorite gun was the single-barrel 12 gauge, loaded with bird shot, that he used for hunting doves, quail, wild turkey, and the occasional duck or goose.
Jasper’s fourth gun was a Smith and Wesson .38 revolver that he sometimes carried with him, in a holster buckled onto the ATV, when he went out on the range. The pistol came in handy for unexpected emergencies, such as an aggressive animal or human. Jasper had been a dead shot with that pistol, and he was as tough as he was kind. Years ago, when Erin had asked him whether he’d ever shot anybody, he had deftly changed the subject.
Two of the guns—the .22 and the heavy rifle, were still in the gun rack, locked into place with a crossbar. After Jasper’s death, the sheriff had come by with a box of his personal things—his clothes and boots, his hat, his spectacles, his keys, his cigarettes and lighter, his watch, and the bird gun. The pistol hadn’t been among the returned items, but it had been easy enough to assume that Jasper hadn’t taken it with him.
The duplex had been locked with Jasper’s key. Nobody had checked inside to make sure the pistol was there.
Until now.
If Jasper hadn’t taken the pistol, it would have been locked to the rack. He would never have left it lying around. Since the gun was missing, one of two things was possible. Either it had flown off the ATV and landed out of sight, or someone had picked it up and taken it—maybe the strange intruder she and Luke had seen last night.
A fly buzzed in the silence of the stuffy room. Erin’s mouth had gone dry. She took a moment to deliberate. She could call the sheriff now and tell him what she’d discovered. Or she could check out the accident scene herself, look for the gun or any other evidence that might have been missed, and take what she’d learned to the sheriff in person tomorrow.
If she wanted the sheriff to pay attention, the second choice made more sense. But she couldn’t go now. Luke would be working on Tesoro soon and she wanted to be there to make sure her stallion was all right. Maybe, if she finished clearing out the duplex and no one needed her, she could go this afternoon. But right now, she had work to do.
A plastic laundry basket was half full of dirty clothes. The familiar odor of tobacco smoke that rose from them brought tears to Erin’s eyes. The small fridge was stocked with Mexican beer and stale sandwich makings. This simple space had been Jasper’s home for years. He had left with no idea that he wouldn’t be coming back.
She was putting the perishable fridge contents into a trash bag when her cell phone jangled. When she saw that the number was Kyle’s, she almost didn’t pick up. She already had too many distractions. But if she failed to answer, he would only call again, or come over. She might as well talk to him now. Shifting her attention, she answered.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hello, you.” Kyle’s voice was cheerful. “Have I caught you on your way to the Hill Country?”
Erin was tempted to lie. But she knew that a lie might come back to bite her. “No. My dad needed me to stay home and work. I’m the boss for the day.”
“Boss, huh? That sounds sexy. Does it have anything to do with whips and chains?”
Erin groaned. “That’s not funny, Kyle, at least not today. What is it you want?”
“You said you’d call to let me know about our dinner date in the city.”
“Oh, that’s right. But didn’t I say I’d call you on Monday?”
“You did. But I might need to make reservations, so I thought I’d check with you now.”
“Sorry, I’ve been so busy with the funeral and all, I haven’t had time to think about it. Right now I’m boxing up Jasper’s things and clearing out the duplex. I didn’t expect the job to be so . . . so emotional.”
“You do sound a little ragged around the edges,” he said. “An evening out might be just what you need. If you want to go tonight, we can do it. A lot of places are open on Sunday.”
Erin sighed. Kyle really had been patient with her. He deserved an answer. “Tonight I’ll need to be here when my dad gets home,” she said. “Besides, I’ll be worn out. But how about tomorrow? Would that work for you?”
“Sure. I’ll pick you up about six-thirty. There’s a new steak house I’ve been wanting to try. I’ll call and make reservations.”
“Thanks. Got to go. I’ll see you then.”
“Dress up and look your prettiest,” he said. “Are you sure you don’t
want me to come over and help you clear out that duplex?”
“You don’t want to be with me right now. I’m a wreck. I need to do this alone.”
“Okay, then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Erin ended the call and went back to organizing Jasper’s things—what to keep, what to donate, and what to throw away. Her thoughts drifted back to the phone call. She could tell that Kyle wanted to make the evening special. In the likely event that he was planning to propose again, she’d be wise to have an answer ready. She’d given it some thought, but the only good reply she could come up with was the truth. She liked him. She even had to admit that he was good husband material. But she wasn’t sure she loved him. And with her father needing her help, she wouldn’t be ready to make marriage plans for at least a year, maybe longer. If he didn’t want to wait that long, she would understand and wish him well.
Refocusing on her task, she looked around for what to do next. The single bookshelf held a well-thumbed Bible, a few classic hardbound books like Huckleberry Finn and The Yearling, and a dozen or so paperback novels by authors like Zane Grey, Bret Harte, and Louis L’Amour. The paperbacks could be donated or recycled. But Will might want to keep the hardcover novels. She ruffled through the pages of each book to make sure nothing important, like a photograph, had been left inside. All she found was a pressed four-leaf clover and a couple torn strips of newspaper that had been used as bookmarks.
The Bible, at least, would be worth saving. Erin pulled it off the shelf and opened the weathered cover. On the first page was a record of Jasper’s family back through his grandparents—the births, marriages, and deaths.
The last date recorded, in a slightly unsteady hand, was the death of Jasper’s widowed sister, Bernice, who’d served as cook and housekeeper to the Tylers, and as surrogate mother to young Will and Beau after their mother died. Bernice, who’d retired and gone to live with a daughter, had passed away two years ago. The daughter, who’d moved back home to the Hill Country, would be at the cemetery when Jasper was laid to rest.
