Texas Forever

by Janet Dailey

  Erin straightened in the seat. “Don’t underestimate me, Mr. Cardwell. I was raised to run the Rimrock. I don’t need a man or anyone else to look after my affairs. I’m quite able to look after them myself. And if I need advice, I have an excellent foreman whose wife handles the ranch books. One thing I don’t need right now is a husband.”

  “But you’re a woman. You’ll have needs. And you’ll want a family.”

  “There’s plenty of time for that. I won’t be pushed into anything before I’m ready. That’s what I told Kyle—and it’s what I’m telling you. If Kyle’s in such an all-fired rush to get married, I’m sure there are plenty of girls who’d be happy to accommodate him.”

  But none with her own ranch.

  Erin almost said the words, then stopped herself. She didn’t need to antagonize this man. She only needed to make him understand that she wouldn’t be pushed around.

  They had turned onto the graveled lane and were coming up on the spot where her father had been shot. The yellow crime scene tape had been left to sag uselessly between the leaning stakes. Here and there, broken ends fluttered in the light breeze. Erin averted her face as they passed it, struggling against the picture in her mind—Will stopping, getting out of the truck . . . She forced away the rest of the image.

  Most people would have driven around the tire in the road. Will had stopped and gotten out to move it aside. The killer had known what he would do. Whoever had murdered her father was no stranger—which likely ruled out a hit. Will’s murder had been very personal.

  “I’m sorry about your father,” Cardwell said. “My wife and I will be going to the funeral, of course.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Does the sheriff have any idea who might have killed him? Any suspects?”

  The knot of tension tightened in Erin’s stomach. “None that he can back up with evidence. Right now he’s busy looking for the person who shot Roy.”

  “I hear that farrier’s back on the Rimrock.”

  The knot pulled tighter. “Yes, he’s back at work.”

  “He could be the one who killed your father. How can you trust him?”

  “Because I don’t think he’s guilty.”

  “If you believe that, you’re a naive young girl. This is exactly why you need someone to look out for you.”

  Erin looked at the road. Through the haze of dust and distance, she could make out the barn and the windmill of the Rimrock. “You can let me out here,” she said. “I’ll be fine to walk the rest of the way.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’ll drive you all the way to the house.”

  He sped up as if he expected her to try to jump out of the truck. “We’ll be there in a jiffy,” he said with a smile.

  “Thanks.” Erin finished her water bottle.

  As they neared the house, he slowed down. “Before you go, I need to say something.” He glanced at her to make sure she was listening. “Kyle’s young. I know he’s got some growing up to do. But he’s got a good heart, and he loves you. Here’s the thing. If you’re having a hard time with him, you can talk to me. I’ll always listen and understand. I don’t just want to be your father-in-law. I want to be your friend.”

  The truck was pulling up to the porch. Choosing to ignore his words, she opened the door. “Thank you for the ride, Mr. Cardwell.” She closed the door and forced herself to walk slowly and calmly into the house.

  * * *

  Luke had gone back to work, shoeing the horses that would be used in the upcoming roundup. He’d forbidden Erin to help him or even to come by and watch. Instead he reported to Sky, who, in his typical fashion, never mentioned a word about Luke’s legal predicament or his relationship with Erin.

  He was grateful for the work. At least it kept him occupied. But the thought that the sheriff could show up at any time, cuff him, and haul him back to jail on a murder charge was enough to make him break out in a cold sweat. The circumstances—the confrontation with Will and the lack of a solid alibi—were damning enough. But that assault conviction in his past was the capper. Unless evidence could be found that would clear him, he was dead meat.

  The real killer was out there, maybe close by. But as long as the sheriff had a likely suspect and, with a little more evidence, could wrap up the case and take the credit, he wouldn’t want to waste time looking for anybody else.

  Luke paused to swig water from the bottle he kept close by. The temptation to run was a constant urge. Leave everything. Just disappear into another life with another identity. But that would be a sure admission of guilt. The only way to prove his innocence—and to be with Erin—was to stay.

  As if the thought could summon her, he looked across the yard and saw Erin climbing out of an unfamiliar blue pickup that had pulled up to the house. She was dressed in black—probably for the funeral of the young deputy who’d been killed. But even at a distance he could tell that something was wrong. He could almost sense her struggle as she climbed the front steps, head up, limping slightly, as if trying to hide pain.

  He wanted to go to her. But that was out of the question.

  As the truck backed up and turned around, he tried to see the driver. The sun’s glare on the windshield made it difficult to get a good look, but he could tell it wasn’t Kyle. Did she have a new man in her life? But he’d be a fool to ask that question. Erin wasn’t his property. Even if she loved him, he hadn’t earned the right to call her his.

  As she disappeared into the house, he turned away and went back to work, shaping a shoe for a sturdy dun gelding. His hammer blows rang across the yard as he pounded the steel shoe on the anvil. At least Erin would hear the sound, know he was close by, and that he was doing his best to watch over her.

  * * *

  Vivian sat frozen at the foot of the table, willing herself not to break. She’d witnessed countless mealtime arguments between her husband and her son. Most of the time she’d managed to stay uninvolved. But this time Hunter’s fury had pulled her in, with no way out.

  “Tell me the truth, Vivian!” His fist crashed onto the table, rattling the plates and cutlery. “Who were you sleeping with when this dolt was conceived? I know it wasn’t me! There’s no way somebody like me could’ve fathered such a clueless idiot!”

  “Look at him.” Vivian spoke calmly, knowing he wanted her to cry and crumble. Her icy self-control was the only weapon she had against his rages. “You know very well he’s your son. There’s no need for you to say those terrible things.”

  “Stop it, both of you!” Kyle shot to his feet. His swollen left eye looked like an overripe plum. “Stop talking about me as if I’m not here! I’m an adult, for Christ’s sake! At least treat me like one!”

  “Then start acting like one! I asked for one thing—get that girl to marry you! I even paid for a lesson with that whore so you’d know what to do when the time came. And what do you do the next time you’re with little Miss Tyler? You manhandle her till she fights you off and runs. I don’t know what the hell you are—mentally defective maybe. But one thing you’re not is a man. Maybe you should stick with those damn porno sites on your computer and leave real women alone.”

  Vivian stifled a gasp. She’d actually believed her son when he’d said he was taking an online course. She’d never checked his computer because she wanted to respect his privacy. And the lesson Hunter had mentioned—what else could it be? What a stupid, naive fool she’d been.

  Trembling, she rose from her place at the table. “I’m going to my room,” she said. “You two can finish this without me.”

  “Stay right there!” her husband snapped. “I’m not finished with you! You’re the one who raised this namby-pamby excuse for a man. You always coddled and spoiled him. You always protected him when he had to face something hard. Now look at him. Look at what you’ve done. This is your fault!”

  Shattered, Vivian gripped the back of her chair. She’d tried to be a good mother. She’d tried to shield her son from his father’s vicious browbeating. Had her
well-meant protectiveness made Kyle weak? She could only blame herself.

  Hunter swung back toward his son. “I have one question for you. Can you fix this mess and get the girl back? Answer me!”

  “It wasn’t my fault.” Kyle’s voice bordered on a whine. “It’s that bastard Maddox. He’s turned her head. As long as he’s around, there’s no chance Erin will have me.”

  “I didn’t ask you whose fault it was,” Hunter said. “I asked you if you could fix it. So can you?”

  Kyle hesitated; then his head came up. His jaw took on a determined thrust. “Yes,” he said. “I can fix it.”

  Hunter nodded. “That’s more like it,” he said.

  * * *

  Dressed in her lacy pink nightgown, Vivian sat on the edge of the bed. The house was quiet. Kyle had gone up to his room, probably to do things she’d resolved not to think about. Hunter had gone out to check on a colicky mare that the vet had treated earlier. But he’d be back soon. And he’d take out his frustrations on her, in bed.

  At least for now, she had an interlude of peace and quiet—time to calm her screaming nerves, time to think about Will and to mourn what could never be.

  Strange, she felt closer to him now than she had when he was alive. It was almost as if she could feel his spirit near to her, giving her comfort, even returning her love.

  She had kept the pages she’d written about their make-believe affair. They were safely hidden in a plain manila envelope that she’d slipped between the king-sized mattress and the box springs, as far under as she could reach. Hunter would never have a reason to look there.

  The news of Will’s murder had rocked her world and banished her hope of anything real between them. But it hadn’t stopped her from loving him. She had hidden the pages before his death and hadn’t looked at them since. But she would keep them always. Maybe, in her memory, what had been make-believe would become real.

  The urge to read those pages again, imagining herself in Will’s arms, was almost unbearable. Maybe, just for a moment . . . But no. Hunter was due back soon. She couldn’t risk the danger of discovery. As unloving as he was, he was very possessive of her. He had even threatened to kill her if she ever cheated on him. Better safe than sorry.

  Good advice, she told herself as she heard the front door open and close. As Hunter’s footsteps approached the bedroom door, she slipped beneath the covers, lay back on the pillow, and prepared herself for what she knew would be more like punishment than lovemaking.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ERIN LAY IN BED, STARING UP INTO THE DARKNESS. THE GLOWING numbers on her bedside clock read 1:45. She’d been trying to sleep for almost three hours. But it was no use. Even though she was physically and emotionally exhausted, the thoughts in her head, swirling and clashing like the winds of a tornado, refused to let her rest.

  All nerves and movement, she sat up and swung her legs to the floor. The house was quiet. Beau was asleep in his old room. He would be flying back to DC after Will’s funeral. For now, Rose had moved into the old housekeeper’s quarters off the kitchen. Soon she’d be going home as well, to prepare for the permanent move to her land on the creek. Then, except for Carmen coming in to work, Erin would be alone in the house, maybe for a long time to come.

  But it was the thought of Luke that was keeping her awake. The terror, the worry, the burning love that filled every part of her. How much longer would he be in her life? How would he bear it if he lost his freedom for something he hadn’t done? And how would she live if she lost him?

  Dressed in the oversized cotton tee she wore as a nightshirt, she thrust her feet into leather slippers and wandered out onto the porch. The night was warm and clear, the stars a spill of diamond points across the ink-black sky. Insects hummed in the darkness. A coyote call, echoing from the foothills, touched her heart with melancholy.

  Luke’s rig was parked outside the duplex. The windows were dark. Was he sleeping after a long day of working in the heat, or was he awake and restless, just as she was, fearing what the next day would bring?

  Now that the sheriff had concluded that Will’s murder and Roy’s weren’t committed by the same person, Luke was almost sure to be arrested and jailed again. It was only a question of when. For all she knew, it could be as soon as tomorrow.

  The next few hours could be all the time they had left.

  Suddenly she was moving, crossing the porch, hurrying down the steps, keeping close against the house where, she knew, her movements wouldn’t trigger the security light. Luke had told her to keep away from him. But a wall of fire couldn’t have stopped her now. She had to go to him—to offer him the one gift she had to give, and to hold the memory of that giving forever.

  The night breeze fluttered the thin shirt against her body. She felt its soft warmth on her skin and thought of Luke, touching her, loving her. In the quiet darkness, she could hear her own beating heart.

  She passed the shelter of the house and crossed the open ground. The moon and stars lent enough light for her to see Henry, hunting in the backyard. She left him in peace and moved on.

  As she mounted the front porch of the duplex, a shiver of doubt swept over her. What if he wasn’t here? What if she offered herself and he sent her away like a naughty child being banished to her room? What if he’d met some woman in town and called her, and . . .

  Stop it!

  Summoning her courage, she tried the doorknob. The door was locked.

  She rapped lightly on the wood, once, then again. Agonizing seconds passed before she heard a stirring inside, the faint creak of floorboards, the metallic click of a sliding lock. The door opened cautiously at first, then swung inward. Luke stood framed in the doorway, his hips wrapped by a hastily grabbed towel, which he clutched with one hand.

  There was no need for questions. An unspoken understanding flowed between them as they faced each other in the darkness. With his free hand, he pulled her inside, closed the door and locked it before gathering her close. “Damn it, Erin,” he whispered, his mouth brushing her forehead. “This isn’t the way I wanted it to happen.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I just want it to happen.” She kissed him, her lips parting and softening against his. His body smelled of clean soap and felt like rough velvet through her thin shirt. Her trembling fingers reached down for the hand that held the towel around his hips and pulled it free. The towel caught between them for an instant, then dropped to the floor. He stood naked in her arms, his erection jutting hard against her belly. There was no fear in her, only wonder, desire, and a sureness that, whatever might happen in the days ahead, she was meant to be his.

  He kissed her, tongue probing deep, igniting heat, hands raising the hem of her shirt to clasp her buttocks and pull her against him. Need rose in her, hot and hungry and raw. Her body molded to his, thrusting against the sweet contact that sent pleasure rippling through every part of her. She shuddered with the first release. Then, sensing that there was even more where that came from, she pushed again.

  Luke groaned. “I think we’re in the wrong place for this,” he muttered, sweeping her to the bed.

  By the time he lowered her to the pillow, Erin’s shirt was gone. She lay looking up at him in the faint moonlight that filtered through the blinds, loving the sight of him as he leaned over her—the muscular shoulders and arms, the mat of black hair that narrowed below his chest to trail down his belly, and most of all his face, his expression blending love, tenderness, and anguish. Neither of them spoke of it, but he knew, as she did, that if things went wrong, this could be their last night together.

  Raising a hand, she ran her fingers down his cheek. He turned his head and kissed them, then bent to nuzzle her small, firm breasts. Taking his time, he nibbled and sucked each nipple to an aching nub. She gasped with pleasure as each small tug deepened the pain of wanting him inside her. Luke was an experienced lover—that was a given. It would be like him to prolong her first time, heightening her pleasure and making sure she was ready. But the urge
to give herself was more than she could hold back. She thrust her hips against him, needing, demanding.

  He moved away for a moment, and she knew he was protecting her. Stop, she wanted to say. Having your baby would be a joy. It would leave me with a part of you forever.

  But she knew better than to speak the words. Luke was a responsible man. He would never allow such a thing to happen. Not even if she begged him for it.

  He returned to her in the bed. She opened to him, her arms, her moisture-slicked thighs, all wanting, all welcoming. His fingers stroked her, preparing her, parting the delicate layers. “Yes . . .” she murmured. “Now . . .”

  He shifted between her legs. Her little cry as his hard length slid inside her changed to a murmur of bliss as he began to move. Swimming in new sensations, she moved with him, letting him carry her to a climax that was like ten thousand flowers all bursting into bloom.

  Afterward, warm and contented, she lay in his arms. She was his woman now, and he was her man—and for this moment, everything was as it was meant to be.

  Before the first stirrings of dawn, they made bittersweet love again. Then it was time for Erin to leave. Knowing she mustn’t be seen with him, she gave him a last, lingering kiss, slipped out of bed, and found her shirt and slippers. By unspoken agreement, neither of them had mentioned what lay ahead. There were too many fears, too many unanswered questions. She simply paused at the door, whispered, “I love you, Luke,” and stole out into the darkness.

  The house was blessedly quiet. Crossing the parlor and tiptoeing down the hall, Erin made it all the way to her own bedroom before the tears spilled over.

  * * *

  It was midmorning when the sheriff’s tan SUV drove into the ranch yard and pulled up to the house. Luke, who’d been working since dawn, willed himself to ignore the new arrival. But the sick feeling in his gut told him that his worst fears had come to pass. And there was nothing he could do about it.

  Erin and Will’s brother, Beau, had come out on the porch. They waited as the sheriff and a deputy climbed out of the vehicle and mounted the steps. Now they were talking. Beau turned and pointed across the yard, toward the pen where Luke was preparing to shoe his third horse of the day.