Texas Forever

by Janet Dailey

  If Luke hadn’t known for sure why the sheriff had come, he knew it now.

  Erin was standing back, letting her uncle do the talking. That was as it should be. Any reaction on her part—any effort to defend him—would only make matters worse.

  A memory flashed in his mind—Erin in his arms, giving him her love and her sweet, virginal body. Maybe it had been unfair of him to take what she’d so willingly offered. But he wasn’t sorry. Whatever happened, he would carry the memory like a secret treasure.

  He could only hope she felt the same. If she had regrets, he would never forgive himself.

  The sheriff and the deputy climbed back into the SUV, drove across the yard, and stopped next to the barn. The two of them, both armed, got out and walked toward the shaded pen where Luke was bent over the shoe he was shaping on the anvil. The sheriff unlatched the gate, swung it partway open, and stepped through with the deputy behind him.

  When Luke could no longer ignore the pair, he straightened and turned around. He was nearly a head taller than the burly, middle-aged sheriff, and he was holding a hammer, but he knew better than to resist what was about to happen.

  “Put down your weapon, Maddox,” the sheriff said, drawing his pistol.

  Weapon? Luke dropped the hammer to the ground.

  “Turn around and put your hands behind your back. Deputy—” He nodded toward the other man.

  Luke did as he was told, but the feel of the steel cuffs clamping around his wrists sent a jolt of panic through him. He wanted to fight. He wanted to run. Anything but to submit to this humiliation.

  “Luke Maddox,” the sheriff said, “you are under arrest for the murder of Will Tyler. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. . . .”

  The sheriff rattled off the Miranda rights in an expressionless voice. When he’d finished, he motioned to the deputy to put Luke in the back of the vehicle. The skinny, taciturn deputy gave Luke a shove—something he might not have done if Luke hadn’t been under restraint.

  As the door was about to close, Luke leaned toward the sheriff, who was still standing outside. “One question, if you don’t mind, Sheriff Harger,” he said.

  Harger scowled. “You can ask it, but I don’t have to answer.”

  “Just this,” Luke said. “You let me go once, in part because you had no solid evidence. What changed your mind? Why are you arresting me now?”

  The sheriff’s scowl deepened. Luke knew he had no right to ask the question. But he needed to understand what had happened and what he was facing. A city cop would know better than to share information. But this small-town sheriff liked to talk. He might enjoy revealing more just to watch his prisoner squirm.

  “All right, I’ll tell you,” Harger said. “We had an eyewitness come forward—a witness who claims he saw you unloading that big tire from the back of your trailer and leaving it in the road.”

  Luke swore silently to keep up his courage. But inside, he’d gone cold with fear. It was as if he could feel the jaws of a trap, closing around him. “Whoever your witness is, he’s either mistaken or lying,” he said. “As I’ve told you, I wasn’t there.”

  “Well, the witness recognized your rig. With that trailer behind the truck, it’s pretty hard to mistake.”

  Which would suggest that the claim is a lie, Luke thought. “How reliable is your witness?” he asked.

  “Very. In fact, I think he was even an Eagle Scout. And he lives close enough to have been in the area. His claim is totally believable.”

  The sick tightening in Luke’s gut told him he already knew the answer to his next question, but he asked anyway. “You’ve told me that much. Can you tell me who it was?”

  Harger hesitated, then shrugged. “I don’t see why not, since you’ll find out sooner or later. It was the neighbor’s son, Kyle Cardwell.”

  * * *

  Erin stood on the porch as the hulking, tan SUV took Luke away. Until now, she’d managed to keep a tight rein on her emotions. Falling apart with the sheriff looking on would only have worsened Luke’s case. But now that the sheriff’s vehicle had vanished in a cloud of dust, those emotions broke free.

  “We’ve got to do something!” Wheeling like a cornered animal, she turned from Beau to Rose, who’d come out onto the porch. Neither of them spoke.

  “He didn’t do it! You know he didn’t! You’ve got to believe me!”

  Rose came forward and laid a gentle hand on her arm. “I believe you, dear. Luke is a good man. But what can we do except wait and let justice take its course? He’ll have a lawyer—”

  “Only a public defender—not a good lawyer. Beau, you must know some of the best defense lawyers in the country. Who can I call?”

  Beau shook his head. “I know some good lawyers, Erin. Unfortunately, you could never afford their fee, especially with the ranch in such dire straits.”

  “I’d do anything!” Tears blurred her eyes. “I’d even sell Tesoro!”

  “Even that wouldn’t be enough,” Beau said. “And I have a feeling that Luke wouldn’t want your help, especially that kind of help. He strikes me as a proud man.”

  “But we could at least hire somebody local—somebody good—”

  “You aren’t listening, Erin.” Beau exchanged glances with Rose. “I know you want to help Luke. But there’s nothing you can do. You’ve got enough troubles of your own right now.”

  “What—?” Erin stared at him. “I know things are tight, with the drought and all. But we’ve survived hard times before. Surely—”

  “Come with me, Erin.” Rose took her hand. “Beau, would you excuse us for a few minutes? We need to have a private talk.”

  Beau nodded, his expression knowing. “I’ll be right here.”

  Rose led Erin inside and down the hall, into the ranch office, with its view of the ranch yard, the barns, and the escarpment beyond. Erin had spent her share of time in this room, sitting at the antique desk that had passed through three generations of Tylers before her. But only now, as she took her seat in the big leather chair, its surfaces worn soft and thin from long use, did she feel the true weight of the responsibility that had fallen on her shoulders.

  On the wall next to the door, in a leather frame, hung a photo of her grandfather, Bull Tyler, taken when he was about fifty years old—a man in his prime, handsome in a rugged way, his demeanor cocksure, as if he knew he could take on the world and win. The photo had been posed for a magazine article, at a time when Bull was already a legend.

  “What do you think he would say to you?” Rose’s question broke into Erin’s thoughts. She’d taken the chair on the opposite side of the desk.

  “I only knew him when he was old,” Erin said. “But I think he would say what he said then—Land and family. Family and land. Nothing else matters. Is that the reason you brought me in here?”

  “I wish it was. No, dear, there’s something you need to understand before another day—or even another hour—goes by.”

  “All right. I’m listening.”

  “Your father was my good friend,” Rose said. “He confided in me—things that I need to pass on to you now. Things he would have told you himself if he’d been given the chance.”

  “Are you saying my father was keeping secrets from me?”

  Rose settled back in the chair, hands in her lap, fingers stirring restlessly. “I think you know how much he loved you. He wanted to spare you the burdens he carried, to give you time to have fun and enjoy your life as a young girl. But toward the end, he knew he couldn’t wait any longer. He had to tell you the truth.”

  “But he never got the chance.” Erin felt her father’s loss like a knife through her heart. “So now that’s become your job. I’m sorry.”

  “No sorrier than I am,” Rose said. “You know that when Will bought out Beau’s share of the Rimrock, he had to borrow the money from the bank.”

  “Yes, I know that. And I know it was a hardship for him. That’s one
reason that he and Beau were barely on speaking terms. But we’ve made the payments for the past three years. I know it hasn’t been easy, but we’ve always managed.”

  “Yes, you have. But this year has been different. This drought has been the worst ever.”

  “I know. That’s why we’re getting ready to sell off surplus cattle and horses.”

  “There’s something else, Erin. Something your father was planning to tell you, probably on the day he died. The bank didn’t give him easy terms on that loan. This year a balloon payment is due by the end of December—two hundred thousand dollars.”

  Erin stifled a gasp. She felt the color drain from her face.

  “At the time he signed on the loan, Will didn’t have much choice,” Rose said. “He was hoping the years would be good ones and he could raise his profits enough to make the payment. But you know what happened. This has been one of the worst years ever for the ranch, and the year before wasn’t much better.”

  “So we don’t have the money.” Even speaking the words felt like a sentence of doom.

  “According to what Will told me, there’s barely enough in reserve to pay monthly expenses until the stock can be sold off. And even if you sold everything, it wouldn’t cover the payment. As of October first, if the bank doesn’t get their money, they’ll foreclose on the ranch and sell it—probably to the syndicate.”

  In the silence that followed Rose’s words, Erin struggled to grasp what she’d just heard. She’d known the ranch was in trouble, but as she’d said earlier, they’d survived tough times before. However, this was more than a tough time. This was losing the ranch where four generations of her family had lived—the only home she’d ever known, the legacy she’d hoped to pass on to her children and grandchildren. This was unthinkable.

  “What about Beau?” she asked, grasping at straws. “I know he never meant for this to happen. Couldn’t he lend me back some of the money he took for his share?”

  Rose shook her head. “For one thing, your father had too much pride to ask him. But even if he’d asked, Beau used the money to buy a nice home in the country near the DC area, and to build a clinic for his wife’s veterinary practice. There’s not enough cash left to make a difference.”

  Erin’s hands clenched into fists. She’d just lost her father. She was on the verge of losing the ranch, and she was in no position to help the man she loved.

  She could feel shock turning to rage. She wanted to curse and pound the desk. She wanted to scream and cry. Why hadn’t her father shared his worries sooner? Life hadn’t prepared her for any of this. It wasn’t fair.

  Bull Tyler’s steely eyes gazed down at her from the photograph on the wall. In her mind, she could hear his voice as she remembered it, roughened by pain and the alcohol he’d turned to after the terrible riding accident that had broken his spine and left him wheelchair bound.

  Hell, of course it’s not fair! Life isn’t fair! Grow up, Erin! Be a Tyler. Figure out what has to be done and do it. Land and family. Family and land. That’s all that matters!

  The words lingered in Erin’s mind as she reached deep inside herself for strength—Tyler strength that was as much a heritage as her beloved ranch. Land and family. Family and land. Figure out what has to be done and do it!

  Wherever those words had come from, Erin knew they were all the wisdom she had. She raised her head and took a deep breath. “Tell me everything you know, Rose,” she said.

  Rose shifted in her chair, leaning toward the desk. “When Will drove into town for the last time, he mentioned that he was going to the bank to ask for an extension. If that’s where he went, I’m guessing he was disappointed. The bank would have no reason to help a man who’s over a barrel—especially if they’ve got a cash buyer waiting.”

  “And I can’t believe they’d help me either,” Erin said. “But I’ll need to talk to someone there. At least they might tell me about their conversation with my dad. If I knew what was said and what time he left there . . .” She paused, thinking. Could there be a connection between her father’s visit to the bank and his murder? Maybe the syndicate wanted him out of the way so they could buy the Rimrock when the bank foreclosed.

  “Let’s go back outside and talk to Beau,” she said. “The funeral isn’t until tomorrow. Today, while he’s here, I could use his help.”

  * * *

  Beau readily agreed to help Erin piece together the events leading up to Will’s murder. Hopefully, their search would yield some clues. Finding the real killer would be their one best chance of freeing Luke.

  They started at the bank. Much as Erin wanted to be seen as an independent woman, she had to admit that having a federal agent with her, asking questions, made it easier to get answers.

  Sim Bartlett, the bank president, admitted that Will had come by the morning he was killed. Sim had kept him waiting, partly in the hope that the rancher would give up and leave. He’d known what Will wanted and what his answer would be. Why go through the painful scene again?

  “Finally I had no choice except to talk to him,” Bartlett said. “It was the same conversation we’d had before. Will wanted an extension on the payment. I had to tell him no.”

  “Was anything said about the syndicate buying the ranch?” Erin asked.

  Bartlett hesitated, but a stern look from Beau was enough to keep him talking. “Now that I remember, there was a mention of it. When I said that a man from the syndicate had questioned me about buying the Rimrock, Will looked like he’d been gut punched. My guess is that he’d been planning to sell them some of the land bordering the old Prescott Ranch. Since they were more interested in taking over the Rimrock, that wouldn’t have been an option.” Bartlett shrugged. “I felt sorry for Will, but business is business. I wasn’t hired to be nice.”

  Rage rose in Erin as she imagined her proud, dignified father forced to grovel in front of this soulless man. For now, she held her anger in check. Later, she would have to deal with the bank herself. There would be plenty of time to tell Bartlett what she thought of him.

  “Is there anything else you remember?” Beau asked.

  “Only that Will left here in a pretty sour mood. He looked like a whipped dog.”

  Quivering with suppressed anger, Erin climbed back into Beau’s rental car. “A whipped dog! That man is a monster, Beau!”

  “I agree with you.” Beau slid behind the wheel. “But I don’t think he had any reason to murder Will. The bastard already had Will over a barrel. All he had to do was wait.”

  “What about the syndicate? They want the ranch.”

  “The syndicate is a legitimate investment company, with a decent reputation. They’re hardly the Mafia. And they had no reason to kill Will. All they had to do was wait for the bank to foreclose, then snatch up the property at a bargain price. Let’s move on. I can guess where Will might have gone next.”

  Erin didn’t need to ask. Her father had never been much of a drinker, but he’d turned to alcohol more often since his wife’s death. After the letdown at the bank, he’d have been wanting a drink, or at least a beer.

  They parked next to the Blue Coyote and went inside. Erin wasn’t legal to be there, but when she walked in with Beau, Abner didn’t object. The hour was still early. A couple of out-of-towners sat at a table with their beers. Otherwise, the place was empty.

  “I already talked to the sheriff.” Abner wiped down the bar with a towel as he responded to Beau’s question. “I’ll tell you what I told him. Will showed up right after I opened the place, which would’ve been about eleven. I handed him a Corona, because that was his usual. He paid, took it, and sat in the corner, drinking. He didn’t want to talk but I could tell he was hurting bad. After about twenty minutes, he got up and went out to his truck. I heard him drive away. That was the last I saw of him. Damned shame what happened. We had our differences in the past, but Will was a good man.”

  “Who else was here when he left?” Beau asked. “Was there anybody who might have made a call
, or taken a shortcut to get ahead of him on the road?”

  “I see what you’re gettin’ at.” Abner hadn’t forgotten his own lawman days. “But it was early. The only ones here, besides me, were Shep and Herman.” He named a couple of old men to whom the bar was like a second home. “They didn’t have phones, and they stayed till the place got busy around noon. Then they left, probably walked home. Neither of them drives anymore. If you’re looking for a suspect, I think you can cross them off your list.”

  “What about Marie Fletcher, Sky’s cousin? Didn’t she used to work here?”

  “Not for me. That was when Stella owned the bar. But I do remember her. Toughest woman I ever knew. Nobody messed with Marie. Too bad. She must’ve been pretty before her face got cut. Might’ve had a whole different life without that.”

  “You know she got out of prison, don’t you?”

  “I know. And it wouldn’t surprise me a bit if she’d been the one to shoot that nice, young deputy. Probably came here to rob the place and got stuck in the stairwell. That’s what I told the sheriff. But I wish him luck trackin’ her down. Cyrus is out of his league with that one. She’s Comanche, and a helluva lot smarter than he is.”

  “What are the chances she might’ve killed Will?”

  Abner shook his head. “Doesn’t make sense to me. She didn’t have anything against Will. And killing in broad daylight doesn’t strike me as her style. She’d more likely do it at night, like a cat.”

  “Anything else you can tell me?” Beau asked.

  “Just that I’ll be shutting down the Blue Coyote for Will’s funeral tomorrow. That’ll be a big one. Will had a lot of friends.”

  “Yes,” Beau said. “A lot of friends and at least one enemy.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “WELL, NO SURPRISES SO FAR.” ERIN FASTENED HER SEAT BELT AS Beau drove away from the Blue Coyote. She’d hoped, at least, to learn something that might help Luke. But that hope was already beginning to fade. “It’s too soon to get discouraged.” Beau seemed to read her mood. “Think of putting a jigsaw puzzle together—a piece here, a piece there, and at some point you begin to see the whole picture.”