Texas Tall

by Janet Dailey

  Yes, the trial. She couldn’t forget that. Not when the worry was keeping her awake nights. She had a good case. Given the true facts, no reasonable jury would convict Will. But something told her she’d be playing against a stacked deck. Clay Drummond always liked to win, but this time he seemed determined to the point of desperation. Something, Tori sensed, was very, very wrong.

  * * *

  Stella turned off the nightly news and poured herself a glass of the finest Kentucky bourbon money could buy. She’d ended the holiday with three wins in her column—Will Tyler’s barn burned to cinders, Sky Fletcher injured, and Ralph Jackson dead.

  When she’d heard the sirens around one-thirty, she’d figured Ralph must’ve done his job, but she’d spent an uneasy afternoon wondering what the chances were that the fool would get caught and turn on her to save his own skin. She’d asked herself, again and again, whether she’d risked too much to strike at her enemy. Ralph was a weak link. However the day went down, he would have to go. It was just a matter of how and when.

  Hours had passed as she waited for Ralph to call her and demand the rest of the cash she’d promised him. When no call came, she’d imagined the worst—that he’d been caught and arrested.

  After packing a valise, to have ready in case of a needed getaway, she’d glued herself to the radio and TV for any word about the fire. Not until the six o’clock news had she learned that the fire was out, and that one man had died in the blaze, presumably trying to save the horses. The owners of the ranch were unavailable for comment, but the deceased ranch hand, Ralph Jackson, was being remembered as a hero.

  A hero! What a joke! Stella grinned as she took another sip of expensive bourbon. It wasn’t often that fate played into her hands. That it had happened today was a cause for celebration. But she wasn’t finished, not by a long shot. First thing tomorrow she would call Abner and make sure he took advantage of every chance to give the Tylers more trouble.

  She could only hope Will’s trial would go as well as the barn fire had. She could hardly wait to see Nicky’s killer behind bars.

  * * *

  It was 1:15 a.m. when Sheriff Abner Sweeney parked behind the county vehicle lot, procured the keys to the department’s tow truck, and drove it out of the gate. Twenty-five minutes later, he crossed the boundary of the Rimrock and switched off his headlights. With the November moon just bright enough to show the road, he drove to the bungalow where his daughter had lived.

  Ralph’s old pickup was still parked outside. It took only a few minutes for Abner to hitch the rear axle to the tow truck, pull out of the driveway and onto the road. What he was doing was illegal as hell and could cost him his job. But as he’d told himself all the way here, this was for the greater good. This was for his daughter and his grandson.

  After he’d found the money in the truck, it hadn’t taken long for the truth to fall into place. That kind of cash could only have come from one source—the person who hated Will Tyler enough to burn down his barn. She would have needed to pay someone to do the job, someone who worked for the Rimrock and had access to the place. That someone had been Ralph.

  The money, mostly new bills, was evidence. It would likely have Stella’s prints on it. Here, at last, was something that could link her to a crime.

  His duty as sheriff demanded that he follow through and arrest the woman. But arresting Stella could expose the quid pro quo favors she and Abner had done for each other over the years. Worse, it would implicate Ralph, who was being lauded as the hero who’d given his life to rescue the Tylers’ horses.

  Ralph’s baby boy could grow up as the son of a hero or the son of a criminal. The end result could make all the difference in his young life. That difference, here and now, was up to Abner.

  Still driving by moonlight, Abner turned the tow truck onto a rutted side road that ended two miles later at a shallow, raw dirt gully, strewn with trash and the remains of before-hunting target practices. After unhitching Ralph’s truck, he used the tow truck to push it into the gulley. The rusty old vehicle rolled down the slope and settled into place, right side up, amid the clutter of old bedsprings, empty beer cans, and ancient TVs with their screens shot out.

  Abner took the canister of black spray paint he’d brought along and used it to decorate the doors and windows of the truck with known teenage gang symbols. The cash was still inside, stuffed under the driver’s seat, where he’d found it. He’d deliberated long and hard about keeping it. The money could go a long way toward helping Vonda raise her son. But the bills had likely come from drug deals. If Stella, who had eyes and ears everywhere, decided to track it down and get it back, his whole family would be in danger.

  Battling regret, he backed the tow truck to a safe distance, took a heavy gasoline can out of the bed, hiked down into the gully, and doused the old rustbucket, inside and out. Sooner or later, word would get around that Ralph’s truck had been stolen and burned. When Stella got the news, she would assume, rightly, that the money was gone.

  As he climbed back up the slope, Abner poured a thin trail of gasoline behind him. Standing at the gully’s edge, he lit the trail with a match and took off at a run. The truck, money and all, exploded in a giant whoosh of flame behind him.

  Abner hung around long enough to make sure the fire wasn’t going to spread. Then he drove back to town, replaced the tow truck, tossed the paint canister in a handy Dumpster, and went home to his family.

  CHAPTER 15

  True to his word, Will was at the hospital by eight o’clock the next morning. He found Sky sitting up in bed, drinking a protein shake through a straw, with an oxygen tube clipped to his nose.

  “You look like hell,” Will said, taking a seat next to the bed.

  “I feel like hell.” Sky managed a grin. Even so, he didn’t look as bad as Will had feared. Where the soaked bandanna had covered his nose and the lower part of his face, there were only a few minor burns. His ears and upper head had suffered worse, his hands, wrapped in special water gel bandages, the worst of all. But the real damage, Will knew, would be from the smoke in his lungs. Sky could be a long time regaining his health.

  “Dare I ask how things are on the home front?” Sky’s eyes, though slightly glazed from pain medication, had recovered some of their old spark. “I take it the barn’s a total loss. Do you think the insurance will cover it?”

  “Some, but not all. The devil of it is, we’ve had three fires this year—the machine shed last spring, the wildfire, and now this! What if the insurance company cancels our policy?” Will shifted the chair closer to Sky’s bed. “And the timing’s a bitch with winter coming on. We’re already salvaging material from the barn to set up storm shelters in the paddock. But by the time supplies come in for the new barn, even with all the hands working, it’ll take weeks to get the basics up. They’re cowboys, not builders. Beau’s been calling around to get construction bids, but with money so tight . . .” He shook his head. “Sorry to burden you with this, Sky. It’s a royal mess.”

  “I’ve got a pretty good crew working to finish my house. Take them. They can show your cowboys what to do.”

  “But I thought you and Lauren wanted the house done before Christmas, for your wedding.”

  “We did. But since we’ll be putting the wedding off until I’m in better shape, the house can wait. The outside’s weather-tight. It’ll be fine.”

  “That would be a huge help,” Will said. “Are you sure it’s all right with Lauren?”

  “We already talked about it. In fact, lending you the workers was her idea.” Sky glanced around as the bathroom door opened and Lauren stepped out.

  “Should my ears be burning?” She was making an effort to smile, but she looked totally wrung-out, as if she’d spent the night awake, sitting up in her clothes and worrying, which she probably had.

  “Take this woman home, Will,” Sky said. “She hasn’t stopped fussing over me since she got here, and she was terrorizing the poor nurses all night. She needs to get some
sleep and come back later—if they’ll let her in.”

  “I was just making sure you got the attention you needed. Like now—for heaven’s sake, you’re out of ice.” Lauren refilled his water glass from a pitcher on the tray. Sky managed a comic eye-roll.

  Will chuckled. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave here without her. And thanks for looking after him, Lauren. I was worried about leaving him, myself, but I knew he was in good hands.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Sky said. “The worst part of all this is having to be here when you need me, Will.”

  Will knew the words carried double meaning. Whatever happened at the trial, Sky’s help would be sorely missed—especially since, until his burnt hands healed, he’d be unable to ride or even drive.

  Which brought Will to the news he was dreading to deliver. Sky might not take it well, but it had to be said. Will hardened his resolve. “We’re going to have to sell off most of your colts,” he said. “We’re asking best offer. That’ll mean taking a loss on them, but with the money situation being what it is, we can’t afford to feed them over the winter. Beau’s already sending out sale notices, not just to the Texas ranches but all over the country.”

  Sky’s mouth tightened. Will knew how much work and care he’d put into selecting, breaking, and training the colts. The green young horses had been brought in to shore up the ranch’s finances, in case the drought forced a sell-off of the cattle. Most of the cattle were already gone, at a loss. And with other Texas ranches in similar straits, nobody in the state was paying big money for horses.

  “Damn.” Sky exhaled, wincing with pain. “Some lucky folks are going to get a bargain on some great cow ponies. I know you wouldn’t do this if we weren’t scraping bottom. But I’d like to ask a favor. There are a couple of those colts I wouldn’t mind keeping for myself. Would you let me buy them from the ranch at the going price?”

  Will knew Sky must be thinking of Quicksilver, the sharp gray gelding that had become his favorite. And he’d likely want a good filly to breed with one of the Rimrock stallions so he could start his own herd on his land. But with the expenses of his new house, Sky wasn’t exactly swimming in money, either. “Tell you what,” Will said. “They’re yours. Call it a wedding present.”

  “Not on your life,” Sky said. “I know you’re going to need every cent to keep the ranch afloat.”

  “We can talk about that when you’re on your feet,” Will said. “Meanwhile, let me know your choices. I’ll make sure Beau doesn’t put them up for sale.”

  Sky was about to answer when two hospital aides, dressed in scrubs and carrying a stack of folded linens, walked in. “Looks like it’s cleanup time,” Sky said, clearly trying to sound cheerful. “Get my woman out of here, Will. Take good care of her. See that she eats and rests.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll all look after her,” Will said.

  Lauren took time to kiss her fingertip and touch it to his lips. “You rest, too,” she said. “I’ll see you later. Will, I left my car and my purse at the ranch. You can just take me there.”

  She let Will usher her out the door and down the network of hallways to the parking lot. As they walked to his truck, with his hand resting lightly under her elbow, he could feel her falling apart. She was rigid but shaky, her features braced against the emotion that was threatening to crush her. By the time they reached the truck, and she settled into the seat, her jagged breaths had become dry, racking sobs.

  “Go ahead and let it out, girl.” Will slipped into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “You’ve been through a hell of a time, and you’re worn to a frazzle. You’re a strong woman—I’ve seen it and I know. But you don’t have to be strong twenty-four hours a day.”

  Little by little, Lauren brought herself under control. “Thanks, Will. It’s just, seeing Sky like that, helpless and in pain . . .” She drew a long, tight breath. “Yesterday I didn’t know if I could do this. I almost left.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “No, I didn’t. And today he’s doing better. But I was so scared! I never want to be that scared again!”

  “Sky needs you, you know,” Will said. “He’s a tough man, and too proud for his own good, but I don’t think he could make it through this time without you.”

  “I understand,” Lauren said. “But that’s not the reason I decided to stay. I stayed because I realized how much I needed him.”

  “Then all I can say is, he’s a damned lucky man.”

  Will lapsed into silence, thinking about Tori—all the times she’d needed him, when he hadn’t been there for her. That last time, when he’d raged at her over the phone, he’d actually been furious at himself for letting her down and leaving her open to another man’s attentions. Hell, he’d known she didn’t care about Garn Prescott. He’d known she wasn’t having an affair. But between the stress of his father’s illness and the fear of losing her, he’d just plain lost it. And that had been the end of everything.

  Now there was a new man in her life—the sort of fellow who drove a sedan and wore cashmere sweaters and wingtips. Steady and stable, Drew Middleton was probably just what Tori thought she wanted. All Will’s instincts urged him to stand up and fight for her. But he had nothing left to fight with. Even without the specter of prison hanging over him, he was flat on his back financially, and on the verge of losing the ranch. He had nothing to offer any woman, let alone a classy lady like Tori.

  “You know who was responsible for setting that fire, don’t you?” Lauren asked, changing the subject.

  “I’ve got a pretty good idea. But no way to prove it.”

  “No more than I’ve got a way to prove Stella ruined my father, or that she tried to have his car rammed, and almost killed me by mistake. She’s an evil monster, Will. There’s got to be a way to bring her down.”

  She shifted in the seat, turning toward him. “I asked Sky if he’d seen Ralph inside the barn. He said no, but he’d noticed that some of the stall gates were already unbolted. People are saying Ralph was a hero. But what if he’d been paid to set the fire, and on his way out of the barn, he decided to give the horses a chance to get out—or make himself look like a hero—and then something went wrong, and he didn’t make it out?”

  “It makes a good story,” Will said. “But with Ralph dead and the barn burned to ashes, we may never know for sure. For all we know, he could’ve seen the fire, run in to help, and passed out from the smoke. The coroner’s report should tell us something.”

  “But you’d given the men the afternoon off. Why wasn’t he home? And what about that old truck of his? Why didn’t he drive it to the barn, unless he didn’t want to be seen? Maybe if we looked inside—”

  “The truck’s gone,” Will said. “When I drove by the bungalow this morning, it wasn’t there. I’m guessing maybe the sheriff or his deputies impounded it.”

  “The sheriff—that’s another thing,” Lauren persisted. “What if he’s on Stella’s payroll, or at least owes her a few favors? That could explain a lot, especially about the way he’s treated you.”

  Will shook his head. “Nobody puts much stock in Abner as a sheriff. But does that mean he’s crooked? Like I say, there’s no proof. For now, all we can do is rebuild and move on.”

  Lauren sighed, shifted in the seat again, and sank into silence. Will had to admit her ideas made sense. But he was already dealing with more than he could handle. Somebody else would have to play detective.

  He found himself wondering if Lauren had done anything about the transfer of the canyon land. She’d mentioned that she wanted to explore it first, but she and Erin had already spent time up there exploring to their hearts’ content. On a stressful day like this, would it be crass of him to mention it again? Maybe so, but he was running out of time.

  “I was just thinking about that canyon—” he began, then realized she wasn’t hearing him. Lauren’s head had sagged against the window. She was fast asleep.

  * * *

  Tori came out onto
the porch as Will pulled up. By then the ranch hands, under Beau’s supervision, were already clearing away the rubble from the burnt barn. With the aid of the farm-sized backhoe and bulldozer, they were setting aside any salvageable materials and pushing the rest into piles to be hauled off later.

  Tori waited until Will had climbed down from the cab. “How’s Sky?” she asked.

  “Doing better this morning. But he’ll be out of action for a while.” He strode around the truck and opened the door for a drowsy-looking Lauren. “See that this lady gets some rest, or at least some coffee before she drives back to town,” he said. “She’s been up all night.”

  Tori took in her friend’s hollow-eyed expression and rumpled clothes. “You look like death warmed over,” she said. “Jasper and Erin are eating breakfast now. Come on in and join them—unless you’d rather just lie down.”

  Lauren gave her a flicker of a smile. “Thanks. Actually, I’m starved.”

  Tori had ushered Lauren inside and was about to follow her when the sheriff’s tan SUV came roaring up the long gravel drive and swung toward the area where the hands were cleaning up the barn debris.

  “Here comes trouble,” Will muttered, taking off at a fast clip across the ranch yard. After a second’s hesitation, Tori followed him. As his lawyer, it was her job to keep any exchange with Abner from getting out of hand.

  By the time she got within hearing range, the sheriff was out of his vehicle. She could hear him shouting at Beau. “What do you think you’re doing? This place is a crime scene!”

  “Since when?” Beau stepped up to face him, looming over the short, chubby sheriff.

  “Since the coroner’s preliminary report came back this morning. It looks like Ralph Jackson most likely died from a fractured skull. To me, that spells murder. I can’t let you disturb the evidence.”