Texas Fierce

by Janet Dailey

  “He’s at a horse auction in Wichita Falls, with my father and Uncle Ham.” She swung off the horse, dropped the reins, and came to his side. “I see you’re busy. Can I help you?”

  “This isn’t what you’d call woman’s work. It’s dirty and hot and miserable.”

  “I know. But I can hand you things. Just ask me.” She moved an empty wooden crate closer and sat on it.

  “Fine. Hand me that small socket wrench, the one by your foot.”

  She handed him the tool. “I can’t believe you’re doing all this by yourself,” she said.

  “Neither can I.” He used the wrench to tighten a nut. “What are you doing here, Susan?”

  “Nothing much. I was alone, and I got to thinking that I’d never seen your ranch by daylight.”

  “Well, you’re seeing it.” Bull gave the nut an extra twist. “Not much to look at, is there?”

  “I wouldn’t say that. It’s got lots of . . . potential.”

  “You see potential. I see money I don’t have and years of gut-busting work to turn this ranch into something a man can be proud of.”

  “And I see a man—a very dirty, sweaty man—who’ll do what he sets out to do, no matter how hard it is. That’s a compliment, in case you’re wondering.”

  “I’ll take dirty and sweaty. Not so sure about the rest.” Bull glanced around for the boys, then remembered he’d sent them into town with a grocery list and told them to take their time. “Hand me that brace—the longest one.”

  She passed the brace to him and watched while he bolted both ends to the frame. He could smell her perfume, a scent that was light but, on her, strangely seductive. Her denim shirt was open past the second button, showing the barest hint of cleavage. Bull tried not to remember how it had felt to kiss her.

  “You don’t think much of me, do you?” Her question startled him. He looked up, catching the flash of vulnerability in her silvery eyes.

  “What I think of you doesn’t matter,” he said. “But for what it’s worth, I think you’re selling yourself short. You deserve somebody better than Ferg.”

  “Like you?” She raised one eyebrow. Bull could only surmise that she was teasing him.”

  “Look around you,” he said. “If you want to spend your life mucking stables and herding cows and sharing your bed with a dirty, sweaty, cash-poor rancher, I’m your man!”

  She laughed. “Don’t tempt me. It doesn’t sound all that bad, especially the dirty, sweaty part.”

  Their eyes met in a breathless pause, as if they’d both revealed too much. Susan dropped her gaze, the color creeping into her face. “I don’t suppose you have any cold beer in the house, do you?”

  Bull took off his hat and raked his damp hair back from his face. “There might be a bottle or two of the Mexican stuff in the icebox. The back door’s open. Don’t look at the kitchen. It’s a mess. The icebox is probably sprouting mold.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll just grab the beer.” Standing, she took off at a run toward the house. Bull watched her go, admiring her easy grace and the way her hips curved inward to her narrow waist. Too bad the house hadn’t been cleaned since Jasper left. Even clean, the place was a dump. But it was what it was. He had nothing to hide, and no reason to hide it.

  Moments later she came striding back across the yard, a single, open brown bottle in her hand. “There was only one,” she said, thrusting it toward him. “Here, at least it’s cold.”

  “That’s all right. You can have it,” he said.

  “Don’t be silly. We can share.” She swigged from the mouth of the bottle and passed it to him. He felt the fleeting warmth of her mouth on the ring of glass as he tipped it to drink. The chilled liquid flowed down his parched throat.

  “Thanks.” He lowered the bottle and passed it to her to finish. “That felt good. It’s hotter than hell out here.”

  She took a sip, then handed the bottle back to him. “Here, take the rest. And you could use some shade.” She tugged his arm. Bull had no cause to resist as she pulled him toward the nearby barn and through the open doorway.

  After hours in the searing sun, the barn’s interior was like a cool, dark cave. Susan looked up at him. Her eyes were soft in the shadows. A golden droplet hovered on her lower lip.

  “You know why I came,” she whispered.

  “I know.” The bottle dropped from his hand as he caught her close. She melted into him, their kisses wild, hungry, and desperate, burning with need. They devoured each other, a fierce heat rising between their bodies. His hand found the honey of bare skin beneath her shirt—the small, firm breasts, nipples that hardened at his touch. The press of her hips against his rock-hard arousal fired rocket bursts through his body. He thought of the darkness, the soft hay . . . She was wearing Ferg’s ring, but he didn’t give a damn about that. He wanted her. And he knew she wanted him.

  She was tugging at his shirt buttons when they heard the dogs outside in the yard. He recognized their happy, eager bark. The boys were back from town, and the two mutts were hoping for a treat.

  Susan had pulled away at the first sound. Bull caught the flash of fear in her eyes. Was she thinking that Ferg had set a trap and caught her?

  “It’s all right,” he said. “My hired hands just pulled in. They’re only boys.”

  “I need to go,” she said.

  “Yes, you do.” He picked up the hat she’d dropped and walked her out of the barn. The boys were carrying the grocery bags into the house, fending off the excited dogs. No male with eyes in his head could fail to notice Susan, but they gave her little more than a quick look as she mounted her horse and rode back toward the Prescott Ranch.

  Aching, Bull cursed as he watched her go. Damn the woman. Wanting her was driving him crazy. All he could think of was having her.

  But there was more involved here than Susan. Stealing Ferg’s girl would be the ultimate satisfaction—and the ultimate revenge. But what if he managed to make it happen? What then?

  He sure as hell couldn’t ask her to join him on this run-down ranch. And her father, who could barely bring himself to shake hands, would never welcome him into the family.

  The only sensible action would be to walk away. Susan was a beautiful woman. If she didn’t marry Ferg, there would be other men in her life. With luck she’d have the wisdom to choose the right one.

  Taking Susan away from a brute like Ferg would be doing her a favor, Bull told himself. But he was rationalizing now—making excuses for the only thing that really counted.

  He wanted her. He wanted her in his arms. He wanted her in bed, her long legs wrapping around his hips, his kisses muffling her little cries as he pushed deep inside her.

  He wanted her. And having her was all that mattered.

  * * *

  Ferg had disappeared outside after supper and driven off in his Thunderbird. When he hadn’t returned by ten, Susan decided to wait up for him. It was time they had an honest discussion about his behavior, and what she expected of him as her fiancé. If he didn’t come clean and promise to take their engagement seriously, it would be time for a talk with her father. Sick as he was, Cliff Rutledge would never force her to wed a man who didn’t respect her.

  She settled onto the couch with a paperback mystery novel she’d found in her bedroom nightstand—probably left behind by a houseguest. The Prescotts didn’t seem to be much for reading.

  By midnight, she was halfway through the book and had already figured out the ending. She’d even peeked at the last page to make sure she was right. With a weary sigh, she laid the book down on the coffee table. Her mind was beginning to wander forbidden paths, back to her ride that afternoon and the moments she’d spent in Bull’s arms.

  Shameless—that’s what her mother would have called her. She’d thrown herself at him in a manner that wasn’t the least bit ladylike. The worst of it was, she didn’t care. Bull touched a place inside her—a place that was deep and wild and true. His kiss had taken her to that part of herself where s
he’d needed to go.

  She remembered how he’d looked today—sweat plastering his shirt to his body, his dark hair falling over eyes that were like the hot, blue jets of a gas flame. A man with nothing but land and pride. A man who would fight to keep what was his. Even the thought of him stirred her pulse.

  But it was wrong to be thinking about him, especially now, when she was waiting to confront Ferg about his behavior. Not that she’d been perfect herself. She’d willfully kissed a man and enjoyed every second of it. Ferg, she knew, had done far worse. But she was just as guilty. Hers had been a betrayal of the heart.

  One thing was clear. If she and Ferg were to marry, have a family, and build a life together, they needed to commit to being faithful—both of them.

  By the time the Thunderbird pulled up to the house, she’d drifted into a light doze. Startled awake, she sat up as his key turned in the lock, smoothing back her hair and pulling down her shirt.

  He walked through the door, blinking in the unexpected lamplight. His hair was rumpled, his shirt buttoned wrong. His lips looked slack and swollen.

  Susan rose from the couch. He stared at her. “What the hell are you doing up?” he muttered, slurring the words.

  “Waiting for you. We need to talk.” Something told her this might be bad timing, but she’d made up her mind not to back down.

  “We can talk in the morning. I’m goin’ to bed.”

  “Now, Ferg.” She stood her ground, blocking the way to the stairs. “I’m not as naïve as you think I am. I know you’re seeing a woman in town. I even know you have an illegitimate son your father is helping support. What I need you to tell me is this. How can I expect to stay engaged to, let alone marry, a man who behaves like you do?”

  He leaned over her, seeming to swell in size. For a fleeting instant, Susan feared he was going to strike her. Then he turned away and slumped onto the couch. “Fine,” he muttered. “You want to talk? We’ll talk. Ask me any damn thing you want to know.”

  “The woman.” Susan sat down at the far end of the couch. “Just one, or do you have a variety out there?”

  “Just one. She’s married. Her husband’s on the road a lot, and it’s all just for fun. No strings attached.”

  “I could ask you who she is, but I think I already know.”

  “Then you should know she’s no threat to you. It’s just sex, for both of us. That’s all.”

  “I see.” Susan gazed down at the diamond on her finger, scarcely able to believe she was having this conversation. “And the boy?”

  “Hell, I was just a fifteen-year-old kid fooling around with the preacher’s daughter. I couldn’t believe it when she told me she was pregnant. My dad had to buy off her family. Otherwise, they’d have made a fuss and forced me to marry her.”

  “So where are they now?”

  “Right here in Blanco Springs. Her folks sent her off somewhere to have the baby. When she came back, they made up some story about having adopted an orphan. The kid passes as her brother, but I don’t suppose many people are fooled by that.”

  “What’s his name? Do you ever see him?”

  “Not if I can help it. His name’s Garn—not my choice, believe me. The little wimp takes after his mother’s family. If I didn’t know better, I would never believe he was mine.”

  “But he’s your son. Don’t you feel anything for him?”

  “Not a blasted thing.”

  “And his mother? What about her?”

  Ferg raked a hand through his rumpled hair. “Hell, she was a cute little thing in ninth grade. But she grew up to be a prissy Bible-thumper like her mother. Believe me, she’s nothing for you to worry about.”

  “I’m not worried about her,” Susan said. “You ruined her life. I feel sorry for her.”

  “Well, don’t. She was plenty willing at the time. And then her family tried to trap me. She’s lucky my dad helps out with the kid. Even that’s a helluva lot better than she deserves.”

  Ferg had been gazing down at his hands as he spoke. Now he shifted on the couch and fixed his bloodshot eyes on Susan. “Now it’s my turn to ask a question. One of the stable boys told me you took the bay mare out today.”

  Susan had resolved not to lie. “Yes. I was bored, so I rode over to the Rimrock. Bull was busy working. His two hired boys showed up while I was there.”

  “I told you to stay away from him!”

  “And I told you that you didn’t own me.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to fight with you, Ferg. Maybe we aren’t ready to be engaged. Maybe we should call it off and give ourselves more time.”

  “Is that what you want? What about your father?”

  “He’ll be disappointed. But he’ll understand. He wants me to be happy. And I can hardly be happy with a fiancé who’s sneaking out at night to sleep with another woman.”

  His jaw tightened, hardening his expression. “This is Bull Tyler’s doing, isn’t it? You were fine until you started getting cozy with that bastard!”

  “This isn’t about Bull.” She rose to her feet. “It’s about us and what you’re doing.”

  “What I’m doing?” He pushed to his feet and stood glaring down at her. “Fine. Let me tell you what I told my father. I’m a man with a man’s needs. Once we’re married, you can take care of those needs at home, in our bed. Until then, you can’t expect me to live like a monk!”

  “And what about me?” Susan demanded. “Why am I expected to be totally faithful when you won’t do the same?”

  “Because you’re a woman—my woman. And if you want to keep me at home nights, you know what you can do. Should I spell it out for you, sweetheart?”

  Susan felt the blood drain from her face. Trembling, she slipped the diamond ring off her finger and laid it on the coffee table. “Good night, Ferg,” she said, and turned to walk away.

  He seized her arm, whipping her around to face him. “Fine!” he snarled. “Go if you want to. You’ll change your mind once you’ve come to your senses. But remember one thing—if I ever catch you with Bull Tyler, or find out he’s so much as laid a hand on you, so help me, I’ll kill him!”

  * * *

  The next morning, Susan wandered downstairs to find her father alone on the front porch, enjoying a cup of coffee. It was early yet, the sun just edging above the eastern hills. Beyond the barn, the cowhands were busy with early chores. But here, with birds singing in the tall cottonwoods and roses blooming below the porch, the morning was as peaceful as the first day in Eden.

  But as she leaned over to kiss her father’s cheek, Susan had a feeling it wouldn’t remain that way.

  “Good morning, sunshine.” He reached up to pat her hand. “What are you doing up so early?”

  “I might ask you the same question.” She sat down in the swing beside him, taking care not to tip his coffee.

  “I just like the peace and quiet,” he said. “That tends to go away once everybody’s up and stirring.”

  “I know what you mean. Did you sleep all right?”

  “Like a log. Better than in Savannah.” He sipped his coffee. “I was just watching the light creep over the ranchland and thinking how happy I am that one day all this will belong to you.”

  Susan’s heart was a leaden weight in her chest. She had to tell him. “Dad,” she began, taking his hand. “Last night I gave Ferg’s ring back. We aren’t engaged anymore.”

  His hand jerked, spilling coffee on his immaculate khaki trousers. “What are you saying?” he demanded. “It was all arranged. Your future—”

  “Listen to me. Ferg’s got a woman in town. He goes to see her at night, when her husband’s away.”

  “Yes, I know. But I wouldn’t worry. Ferg will straighten up once he’s married to you.”

  “You know?” She stared at him, dumbfounded.

  “Ham told me. Naturally I wasn’t pleased. But boys will be boys, and they do grow up. Heaven knows, I was no saint before I married your mother. But her daddy owned a cotton plantation, and I di
d my duty. Can’t say I’ve ever regretted it, especially since I got you in the bargain.” His eyes narrowed. “I’ve a pretty good idea where this is coming from, Susan. You were seen riding back from the Rimrock yesterday.”

  “So now I’m being spied on?”

  “A young woman like you has a reputation to protect. And Virgil Tyler isn’t the sort of a man you’d want anything to do with. His father was a drunk, and young Tyler made his living as a rodeo cowboy before he came back to that run-down ranch. He’s nothing but white trash. You’re not to see him again.”

  Susan rose, fighting tears as she turned to face him. “I thought that you, of all people, would understand. I thought you’d be on my side.”

  “I am on your side,” he said. “I know what’s best for you, and as long as you’re under twenty-one, you’ll do what I say. Years from now, when you’re well-off and surrounded by your family, you’ll look back and thank me.”

  His expression froze. The china cup dropped from his hand to shatter on the porch. He clutched at his chest. “My pills!” he gasped. “Get them! And get some help!”

  CHAPTER 9

  BULL LAY AWAKE IN THE DARK, TOO RESTLESS TO SLEEP. NEARLY A week had passed without word from Susan. He could understand that she might not want to see him again. But what if something had gone wrong—an accident, or a clash with Ferg’s explosive temper? He knew he had no right to be concerned about her. All the same, he was worried.

  But Susan was the least of his troubles now. Three days ago he and the boys had erected the windmill tower and reconnected the pump. The new setup had worked perfectly. But the water flow was still dwindling. It was time to face reality. The water table beneath the land was shrinking. The well was going dry.

  How much time did he have before the water ran out? Days? Weeks? Would the hire of a drilling contractor be a waste of time and money? What if he paid and the new well proved to be as dry as the old one?

  If he could find another source of water for the stock, saving the well water for the house, maybe the ranch would be all right until winter storms replenished the ground. But what if those storms never came? And where was he going to find enough water for more than a hundred head of cattle? He might be better off selling the lot of them.