Texas Fierce

by Janet Dailey

  She drew away from Bull as Ferg bolted out of the red Thunderbird, slammed the car door, and charged up the steps. His face was flushed with the heat of anger. “Get in the house, Susan! I told you what would happen if you went near that bastard!”

  Susan stood her ground as he loomed over her, but Bull could see that she was trembling. He stepped between them. “Susan isn’t wearing your ring anymore, Ferg,” he said in a calm voice. “You can’t tell her where to go. And she can see anybody she wants to, including me.”

  Rage glittered in Ferg’s eyes. He looked ready to throw a punch. Bull shifted his feet, bracing for a fight. Ferg outweighed him by a good twenty or thirty pounds. But Bull was quicker and toughened by years of hard physical work. If his boyhood friend struck out, he’d have a fair chance of taking him.

  “Stop it!” Susan cried. “You’re acting like a pair of schoolyard rowdies! I won’t have it!” She turned to Bull. “You’d better go. We’ll talk later.”

  “I’m not leaving till I know you’ll be all right,” Bull said. “And as for you, Ferg, if I hear you’ve so much as laid a finger on her, you’ll answer to me.”

  Ferg had taken a step back, but his face was still a mask of fury. He laughed, the sound dripping sarcasm. “Listen to the big-man talk, Susan. You probably think he’s your knight in shining armor. But I’ll tell you a dirty little secret—and I want you looking at him when you hear it.” He paused. “Go on. Look at him!”

  Susan turned toward Bull, eyes wide, lips parted. Bull had no idea what Ferg was going to say. But he should have guessed. It was the thing that would hurt her most.

  “Listen, and listen good, sweetheart.” Bull’s grin was pure malice. “You know that woman you were so upset about, the one I was going out at night to see? Well, Bull’s had her, too. He’s humped her plenty of times. Go on, ask him to deny it.”

  Susan stared at Bull as if he’d slapped her face. He watched her expression change from shocked disbelief to hurt, and then to fury. What could he say? That he and Bonnie had meant nothing to each other? That he hadn’t been with her in nearly a year?

  But the damage had been done. Nothing he could say would make a difference. Helpless to stop her, Bull watched as Susan spun away and fled into the house.

  Ferg paused to give Bull a last, triumphant sneer. Then he sauntered in after her and closed the door.

  * * *

  Bull drove back to the ranch in a black mood. He’d expected to be celebrating his victory over Ham Prescott. That part of his visit couldn’t have gone better. But after that, Ferg had cut him down without a blow.

  Susan was through with him for good; and he’d just begun to realize what she meant to him. She was a flash of golden sweetness in his drab life of worry, stress, and backbreaking work. She was like a sip of fine brandy, a fleeting taste of the quality he could never possess. She had never been his. All the same, her loss left an aching hollow that no ordinary woman could fill.

  In those tough, early days on the ranch when everything seemed to be going wrong, Bonnie had been a diversion. They’d had a few laughs and parted friends. End of story. But Susan wouldn’t understand that. She was a good woman with traditional values, maybe even a virgin. A man might view a roll in the sack with a willing female as harmless fun. But to a woman like Susan, it would be the ultimate betrayal of her trust—even if it had happened in the past.

  At least he wouldn’t have to tell her about the buckle bunnies who’d trolled the rodeo grounds and neighboring bars, eager for a hookup with a champion cowboy—and the times when he’d taken advantage.

  He pulled the truck into the ranch yard and parked alongside the house. Jasper and Rose were out back, building a coop out of scrap wood and a roll of chicken wire they’d found in the shed. The two dogs lolled nearby in the shade of the house.

  Rose waved as he got out of the truck. Bull hadn’t made a conscious decision to keep the girl around. But something told him she was here to stay. Over the past few days, she’d proven to be a willing worker, a fair cook, and a good hand with animals. She was earning her keep, Bull told himself. And as an eyewitness to her grandfather’s murder, she was his little insurance policy against any interference from Ham Prescott.

  A cover had been needed to protect her identity and explain her presence on the ranch. She’d gladly agreed to pass as Jasper’s orphaned niece who’d come from the hill country to stay with him.

  Rose had taken the subterfuge to heart. She tagged after her make-believe uncle like a puppy. As for Jasper, he’d begun to smile again. The grieving man and the lonely young girl were forming a genuine bond.

  Bull climbed out of the truck and wandered over to join them. “So where are the chickens now?” he asked.

  “In the barn,” Rose said. “We put them in the tack room. It was the only place with a door. They’ve stopped laying, but they should start again once they’re settled in the coop, with nesting boxes. You’ll like the fresh eggs.”

  Bull studied the unfinished coop. “Are you sure that thing will be strong enough to keep out coyotes? One cackle will be like a dinner bell to those varmints.”

  “By the time we’re done, it’ll keep out an army of coyotes,” Jasper said. “We’re even digging a trench to bury the edge of the wire a foot down, so they can’t dig under it.”

  “And snakes?”

  “We’re working on that. Aren’t we, Rose?”

  “Snakes shouldn’t be a problem unless the hens have babies,” Rose said. “The big chickens can kill any snake small enough to get through the wire. I saw them do it a couple of times back at my grandpa’s place. They’re tough birds, and smart, not like the ones on those big farms.”

  Jasper gave Bull a narrow-eyed glance. Bull knew what he was thinking. It was time to get a few things straight between them.

  “Rose,” Bull said, “it’s getting close to lunchtime. Would you mind taking a break to whip us up a batch of sandwiches? I’ll help Jasper while you’re busy.”

  “Sure. No problem.” She put down the hammer she was holding and hurried through the back door, into the kitchen.

  Bull picked up the hammer and used it to pound down a loose nail. “I can tell you’ve got questions,” he said to Jasper. “Go ahead and ask.”

  “I’m just wondering about that little girl’s property. Her granddad didn’t leave that parcel to you. He’d have wanted her to have it. So what have you done about that deed?”

  Bull sighed. Only Jasper could pin him down like that and get away with it. “I think you know,” he said. “Rose can’t protect that land. We can. For now, it’s part of the Rimrock. We’ve got access to the creek, and thanks to what Rose saw, we’ve got Ham over a barrel. He won’t dare touch us.”

  “You owe that girl,” Jasper said. “You owe her a lot.”

  “I know. But I can’t pay her for the land. Not yet, at least. But hell, Jasper, what would she do with that parcel? Sell it to the Prescotts? God knows she can’t live there alone, especially since the shack’s gone. She’s what—fourteen? I can give her a home and keep her safe. For now, that’s the best I can do.”

  “Meanwhile, you’re using her to control Ham. He could have her killed, Bull. We both know the old bastard’s capable of that.”

  “He doesn’t know who she is.”

  “He could guess. He’s not stupid.” Jasper shook his head. “I just want the girl to get a fair shake. Lord knows, she’s had enough rotten luck in her life, starting out with that mark on her face.” He was using iron staples to secure the wire to a post. Taking the hammer from Bull, he pounded one in and reached for another.

  “How much has she told you?” Bull asked.

  “Enough. Her single mother died of a drug overdose. Rose went into the system. After bouncing from home to home for a couple of years, she lit out and found her grandpa. You pretty much know the rest.”

  “Good God!” Bull muttered.

  “She’s as tough as they come,” Jasper said. “But the last thing sh
e needs is another raw deal. Her grandpa meant for her to have that land.”

  “And this ranch can’t survive without access to the creek. I’ll try to do right by the girl, Jasper, but until I can afford to pay her, I can’t risk her getting that land and selling it to somebody else. Right now, the less she knows the better. If she has questions, you tell her to come and talk to me.”

  “Whatever you say.” Jasper’s tone made it clear that he didn’t agree with Bull’s thinking. But Jasper had a soft heart—and soft hearts never kept a ranch running in hard times.

  “Something else,” Jasper said. “She’s expecting justice for the old man’s murder. She keeps asking me when the man who killed her grandpa is going to be arrested.”

  “Does she know Ham’s name or who he really is? I sure as hell haven’t told her. Have you?”

  “I know better than that. If Rose knew Ham was our next-door neighbor, she’d be on her way over there with a shotgun. But I don’t know how long we can keep it from her. She’s bound to find out.”

  Bull swore a string of oaths. “We can’t turn Ham over to the law. We need him to keep the peace. If Ferg takes over, there’ll be blood. And if the girl comes forward as a witness against his father, her life won’t be worth a nickel.”

  For once Jasper didn’t argue. “So what do I tell Rose?”

  “Stall her. Tell her the sheriff is looking into it.”

  “All right.” Jasper sighed. “One more thing.”

  “Lord, what now?”

  “I need to go into town and get her some decent clothes. Those rags she’s wearin’ ain’t fit for muckin’ out a stable.”

  “Fine.” Bull fished his wallet out of his jeans and handed Jasper a few bills. “You can’t take her along, looking like she does. Find out her size and get her a few basics. Once she’s cleaned up she can go back—or better yet take her to Lubbock, where she’s less apt to be noticed, and let her pick out more clothes there.”

  “Thanks. I’ll go after lunch.” Jasper tucked the bills in his pocket. “As long as she’s family, she might as well dress the part.”

  As long as she’s family. As he watched Jasper walk away, Bull had the feeling he’d gotten in over his head. Taking in a young girl, especially one who came with so many complications, was something he’d never imagined doing.

  Having a warm, caring woman close by would make things easier. But the one woman he had in mind, the only woman he wanted, was far beyond his reach.

  * * *

  The tires of the red Thunderbird spat gravel as Ferg pulled out of the ranch gate and headed for town. As he drove, he popped the tab on a can of Budweiser and took a long, cold swig. He needed a break. One more minute of the craziness in that house would have pushed him over the edge.

  Susan’s mother, Vivian, had arrived three days ago, blowing in like a hurricane and settling in like a miasma of anxiety and tension. For starters, she’d declared she wouldn’t be leaving until her daughter’s engagement was back on. In response, Susan had made herself scarce. With her mother there and her father mostly able to do for himself, she’d spent her time riding or reading behind closed doors.

  Ferg’s father hadn’t been himself, either. Sullen and withdrawn, Ham had spent most of his time closeted in his office or roaming alone on the ranch’s three-wheeled ATV. Maybe it was just because Vivian was here. Or maybe it had something to do with Bull’s visit a few days ago. The old man might even be ill—which wouldn’t be all that bad. Ferg had never been crazy about herding cows and mending fences. But the idea of taking over as boss had some appeal.

  As he turned onto the highway, Ferg downed the rest of the beer and tossed the empty can out of the car. To hell with the family drama he’d left behind. He was ready for some fun tonight, and he knew exactly the kind of fun he wanted.

  It was early yet, the sunset painting blood-red streaks above the escarpment. Bonnie wouldn’t be off work until after ten. But he could hang out at the Blue Coyote, have a few drinks, and play some pool while he waited for her.

  Sooner or later, he supposed, Susan would give in to pressure and agree to be engaged again. Now that Bull Tyler was out of the picture, she was bound to come around. This time, when it happened, he would be expected to behave himself. But for now, he was a free man.

  The Burger Shack was busy tonight. The high school baseball team had played a rival school that afternoon. The long game had gone extra innings. Most of the fans had left the ballpark hungry.

  Bonnie and the high school boy who worked evenings were hustling. Unable to find an empty seat, Ferg stood by the door. A few minutes passed before he caught her eye. She gave him a tired smile as she hurried to a booth with a tray full of food and drinks.

  At last she found a free moment to talk to him. He followed her down the hall toward the restrooms. For a moment they were alone.

  “So when are you off tonight?” he asked her.

  “Ten. But tonight won’t work, Ferg. Danny’s home.”

  So much for fun. But Ferg wasn’t ready to give up. As far as he knew, Bonnie was the only game in town. “My car’s outside,” he said. “We could do a quickie when you get a break.”

  “Does that look like a break to you?” She glanced back down the hall to the swarm of customers who crowded the counter.

  “I can wait till closing.” Ferg didn’t like taking no for an answer, especially when he was feeling the itch for a woman.

  She shook her head. “Forget it, Ferg. I’ll be dead on my feet by closing time. And my husband’s waiting at home. You’ll have to find your fun someplace else.”

  Rejection roused his mean streak. “You know, I’ve always wondered, Bonnie. Does your husband have any idea how you carry on when he’s on the road?”

  Her gaze hardened. “Let’s just say he understands me. And as long as I’m there waiting when he gets home, he doesn’t want to know.” She stepped closer. “I might as well tell you now. I’m pregnant—it’s Danny’s baby, and I want it. I’m ready to be a mother. That’s why I’m done fooling around with the likes of you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got customers to wait on.”

  She turned and strode away, her shapely haunches ripe and tempting beneath the thin, pink skirt of her uniform.

  “Bitch!” Ferg muttered as reality sank in. Bonnie was pregnant! Pregnant! He knew better than to suspect the baby was his. She’d insisted that he use protection every time. But her husband, easygoing Danny Treadwell, had enjoyed special privileges.

  So, no more fun and games with Bonnie. Damn!

  Now what was he going to do?

  He drove down Main Street to the Blue Coyote, where he had a couple of beers and played some pool. But it wasn’t how he’d planned to have the evening turn out. He left forty-five minutes later, still in a sour mood. With no place else to go, he took a back road that circled the outskirts of town and eventually joined up with the highway that led to the ranch.

  He should’ve known better. Reverend Samuel Timmons lived on that road, in a sprawling clapboard house with his fruitful wife and eight children, counting the one his firstborn daughter had contributed to the family. That daughter was sitting alone on the front steps, under the porch light, when he drove past. Recognizing his car, she stood and gave him a timid wave.

  Ordinarily Ferg would’ve ignored her and driven on past. This time he slowed the car and then pulled to a stop on the opposite side of the street. She hesitated. Then, glancing back at the house, she crossed the street and came down the walk.

  Ferg lit a cigarette and waited. Edith Timmons wasn’t a bad-looking woman, he reflected. With some makeup and the right hairstyle and clothes, she could be passably attractive. As it was, she was too pale and thin for his taste, with dowdy clothes and a shy manner.

  Ferg knew she still liked him, and even nourished hopes that he’d come back one day to claim her and their son. Fat chance of that. But tonight he was desperate.

  As she came closer, he reached across the seat, unlatched th
e passenger door, and shoved it open. That would be all the invitation she needed.

  “Hi, Ferg.” She slid onto the seat and closed the door. She was wearing a shapeless dress, its pale color indistinguishable in the dark.

  “Hi.” He tossed his cigarette out of the car and started to drive. “How’re you doing, Edith?”

  “Fine. So is Garn. He’s getting big—maybe he’ll be a football star like you.”

  Garn. Lord, how he hated that name.

  “I wish he could meet you,” she said. “You know, just as a friend.”

  “Better not to.” Ferg pulled into a vacant lot, a half block past the reverend’s house. “I’ve missed you, babe. Come here.” He reached across the console between the bucket seats, pulled her against him, and kissed her, long and hard, shoving his tongue into her mouth. He hadn’t made it all the way with her since the boy was born. But she’d always been up for their occasional necking sessions. Maybe this time he’d be able to get her into the backseat. It never took much to get him hard, even with Edith. He was already there.

  She moaned as his hand cupped her breast through the thin cotton dress. At least she had decent boobs. And squeezing them always got him going. He plucked at her buttons. “C’mon, babe, give me a feel. . . .”

  She squirmed away. “No, Ferg. We mustn’t . . .”

  He took her hand and placed it over the bulge beneath his jeans. “Just feel that. . . .” he said. “That’s what you do to me, babe. If you’d just—”

  “I can’t, Ferg.” She pulled her hand away and reached for the door handle. “I can’t do this with you, then go to church and sit there like nothing happened. I’ve never stopped loving you. But if you want me that way, you can marry me!”

  With that, she shoved open the car door, climbed out, and stalked back up the road toward home.

  Ferg’s fist punched the steering wheel as he watched her go. “I’ll marry you when hell freezes over, bitch!” he muttered, starting the car.