Scorned Justice: The Men of Texas Rangers Series #3 (Men of the Texas Rangers)

by Margaret Daley

  Thomas’s doctor went into the waiting room. Rebecca started toward him, saying, “We’ll discuss this later when I’m not so tired.”

  When Rebecca entered, Dr. Mike Henderson was saying to Tory and Foster, “The surgery was successful as far as stopping his internal bleeding, and now we’ll just have to wait and see if he comes out of the coma he’s slipped into. His body has suffered quite a trauma. Besides the injuries to his head, there is spinal damage.”

  “How extensive is the trauma to his brain?” Rebecca asked, locking eyes with the doctor.

  “I’ve always told you like it is, Rebecca. His head was bounced around when he was dragged across the ground. There were a couple of deep gashes in the back. There’s swelling. Again, it’s wait and see. There’s a good chance he suffered some kind of brain damage.”

  “Will he remember what happened to him?” Brody came over to her.

  “It’s too early to say much of anything. He’s still in critical condition and will be in the ICU until that changes.” Dr. Henderson looked at the wall clock. “It’s one in the morning. Go home. Get some rest. There’s nothing you all can do here. I’m insisting.”

  Rebecca listened as the doctor spoke with Foster about what would happen in the near future with Thomas if he continued to improve, but the words slipped in and out of her mind so fast she didn’t comprehend what was being said. Brain and spinal injuries. In a coma. He was alive, but for how long?

  Brody slid his arm around her and leaned in to whisper, “He’s a fighter, and we’ll be here for him.”

  His roughened voice, raw and heavy, spoke of his pain at hearing the details of Thomas’s injuries. His presence shored up her resolve to make sure her brother had every opportunity to recover—no matter the cost.

  “How’s Tory?” Brody asked when Rebecca stepped into the kitchen after checking on her sister-in-law.

  The scent of coffee drifted over to her, and she headed straight for the pot on the counter. “She’s sleeping.” She lifted the coffeepot. “Want some more?”

  “No, I just poured a new cup.”

  Rebecca trudged to the table and sank into the chair next to Brody. Exhausted beyond sleep, she tried to forget the past hours at the hospital. She couldn’t, especially the prospects for her brother if he came out of the coma. Then, on top of that, as they neared the ranch with Brody driving both her and Tory home, her sister-in-law came out of her silence as though the lights of the ranch had flipped a switch in her brain and she had become aware of her surroundings. She’d begun sobbing. Her arms folded across her chest, she had rocked back and forth, her nails digging into her flesh, making it bleed.

  “I’m glad the girls weren’t up to hear and see us when we returned. Aubrey, who doesn’t remember her own mother much, has begun to think of Tory as her mother. Seeing her like that when we brought her inside would have freaked Aubrey out. Usually Tory is poised and reserved.” Cradling the mug between her hands, Rebecca stared at the dark brew. “I hate coffee. I don’t know why I got this.”

  Brody grasped her arm to draw her attention to him. “Don’t drink it. I can fix you some tea. I seem to remember you liked it.”

  “Still do.” She slid the cup away from her, wishing he were still touching her.

  He started to rise.

  “Don’t. I’m really not thirsty. Just tired.”

  Instead of sitting back down, he straightened to his full height. “Go to bed. Tomorrow is going to be here in a few hours, and it’s going to be a long day. I need to leave anyway.”

  When he turned away to take his mug to the sink, she reached up and stopped him. “Please. As exhausted as I am, I can’t sleep right now and I don’t want to be alone. Hattie went to bed. She wants to be up early in case the children get up and want to wake Tory.”

  He settled into the chair again, cupping her hand between his palms. “I’m here as long as you need me.”

  “I still can’t . . .” She swallowed the knot. She had to be here for her nieces.

  “He’ll have a hard road ahead of him.”

  The sound of Brody’s voice, husky and pain-filled, caused her to look at him. A sheen glistened in his eyes. “He’s always thought of you as a brother.”

  “I know. That’s how I feel.”

  “He missed having you around.”

  “We talked on the phone.”

  “Not the same thing. The day he heard you were moving back to the area, he called to tell me how excited he was that you’d come to your senses and were returning home.”

  Brody pulled his hands away from hers and leaned back in the chair as though he were putting as much distance between them as possible. “I went where the job took me. I was still in Texas.”

  “San Antonio and Amarillo are eight hours apart. At least when you were in Dallas you were a little closer, but you hardly came home.”

  “I didn’t know you kept track.”

  “Thomas would grumble about it from time to time.”

  “I see.”

  What did that mean? Her brain was like mush, and she couldn’t seem to figure out the simplest things. He almost sounded as though he were hurt by what she had said. She couldn’t blame Thomas for how he had felt. She’d felt the same. She’d missed the rides the three of them used to take years ago, especially when Brody had lived down the road from them. She’d been able to tell him things she could never tell another.

  When she snatched up her mug, she took a long sip of the strong black coffee and nearly choked.

  “I thought you didn’t want any.”

  “I don’t. I . . .” She set the cup down and asked the question she had been avoiding since she first came looking for Brody, “What did the sheriff say happened to Thomas?”

  “He didn’t see any evidence of foul play. There was a calf that fell into a gully and was carrying on when Jake came up. It appears that Thomas was going to hoist the animal out of the hole, but he must have gotten tangled up in the rope and Rocket was spooked.”

  “I don’t believe that. I know that Rocket can be high-strung, but what would have spooked him?”

  “It could have been a rattler. I’ve seen it happen with a hawk. From what Jake said, the calf was loud, so maybe he started carrying on when he saw Thomas and that scared Rocket. What your brother loved about Rocket was his feisty spirit. But that meant he was temperamental, too. A handful.”

  “I know. Thomas loved Rocket. He was a gift from his first wife.” She collapsed back against the hard slats of the chair. “My brother is a risk-taker in all he does. And now he could be brain damaged and might not be able to walk—if he wakes up. I don’t know how we’re going to tell the girls tomorrow. I’m not sure Tory will be up to it.”

  “You’ll be there for her. That’ll help.” He scooted his chair back and pushed to his feet. “But you’re going to need your sleep. Tomorrow will be a hard day. I’m coming back first thing in the morning. I’ll ride out to look at where the accident happened.”

  “You think the sheriff or deputy overlooked something?”

  “Sheriff Overstreet is a good man. If he did miss something, it was because it was getting dark. In the light of day things may look different.”

  “If it doesn’t rain.”

  She followed him from the kitchen, walking next to him toward the foyer. “You can stay the night here. You won’t be at home long before you’ll have to turn around.”

  “I need to check on Dad. Make sure he takes all his medicine. He complains a lot about all the pills he has to take.”

  “He’s lucky to have you.”

  “No, I ‘m the lucky one. He was always there for me. I have to be there for him now. He hates being sick and has been fighting me and the doctor about what he can and can’t do.”

  “That sounds like Sean. Before he retired from the police department a couple of years ago, I saw him when I visited the station.” When her husband was still alive and she had a reason to go there. Now she avoided it unless she had to bec
ause of her job, which rarely happened. The police came to her now that she was a judge rather than the district attorney. “Tell your father hi for me.”

  “I will. See you tomorrow morning.”

  After Rebecca shut and locked the front door, she leaned back against it and surveyed the large foyer of her childhood home. A wide staircase curved up to the second story, and a massive round oak table with a fresh bouquet in the middle of it dominated the area. Her mother had started the tradition of always having a vase full of flowers as the first thing people saw when they entered the house.

  A symbol of life contining? But what kind of life would Thomas have if he couldn’t walk, had difficulty doing the simplest tasks? Why, Lord? Why have You done this? Thomas is all the close family I have except my nieces. You’ve already taken my parents and my husband, and now this with my brother.

  The vivid red and yellow of the roses blurred as she stared at them. She’d been careful to keep her emotions under control while Brody was here, but now sadness overwhelmed her. She slid down the door. Clasping her legs against her chest, she laid her head on her knees and cried for her brother, who had been there for her when her husband had died and then their father.

  “Dad, why are you up so early?” Brody said when he came into the kitchen to grab some coffee before he returned to the Circle S Ranch to ride out to the place where the accident had occurred—at least the evidence collected so far pointed to an accident. But this was Thomas. He had to know for sure it wasn’t attempted murder—not just because the governor had asked him to, but because of his past with Thomas and Rebecca. He owed them.

  Dressed in jeans, a short-sleeved shirt, and boots, his father finished putting the coffee into the pot, then switched it on. “I’m going with you to see the Sinclair family. Their father was a good friend. I need to help them as much as I can, and since you’re going that way, I thought I’d hitch a ride.” He grinned, which was really more like a grimace. “I know how you don’t like me driving myself anywhere right now, so . . .” He let the unspoken threat hang in the air between them.

  “I’m not sure there’s much you can do right now.”

  “I imagine Hattie will have her hands full. I can help her.”

  “But—”

  “It’s either you drive me or I drive myself.” His father lifted his chin and fastened his “I mean business” gaze on Brody. “Which will it be, Son?”

  “It seems I don’t have much choice.”

  “Yup, I agree.” His father retrieved two mugs from the cabinet and set them near the coffeemaker, then folded his arms across his chest and lounged back against the counter. “Last night you didn’t say much about yesterday. What do you think happened with Thomas?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know what happened. No concrete evidence either way at this time.”

  “No opinion?”

  “You always taught me not to jump to a conclusion, to leave myself open to all possibilities, or I might overlook something.”

  “Yes, but I always taught you to err on the side of the worse-case scenario.”

  “So you think I should look at this as an attempted murder?”

  His dad nodded and shifted to pour the coffee into both mugs.

  “There’s nothing specifically pointing to someone trying to kill Thomas. The sheriff said the scene doesn’t indicate foul play.”

  “Did the doctors who worked on Thomas think there was anything that indicated foul play?” His father handed Brody a mug.

  “I’ll be going to the hospital later to see Thomas and to talk to the doctors and the staff.”

  “Let’s go. I wouldn’t mind taking a look at the scene.”

  “Dad, you’re retired and recovering—”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean? That I’ve stopped thinking like a cop? That I’m no longer any use?”

  “No, but you had a heart attack and nearly died. You need to take it easy.”

  “That was three months ago. I’m much better now. I’m not an invalid, so quit treating me like one. How many times do I have to tell you that?” His dad clamped his jaws together, a nerve twitching in his face.

  “I almost lost you. Sorry if you don’t like the fact that I worry about you.”

  “Worry is unnecessary. What good does it do you? Can you change anything because you worry? Trust the Lord. When my time comes, it comes. You worrying about me isn’t going to change that fact, but it might raise your blood pressure.”

  “So you don’t worry about me?”

  “Nope, not anymore. I figure God knows better than I do. His will is so much better than mine.”

  “That’s easier said than done. Our family is small. It’s just you, me, Kathy, and Samantha.”

  Sipping his drink, his dad ambled toward the back door. “Well, you can always change that. Get married and give me some more grandkids.”

  “Don’t start with that. You know how difficult it can be for an officer to have a good marriage, and that’s the only kind I will settle for.”

  “Then quit your job. You have a lot of talents.”

  Brody glanced at his father. “This from the man who was a police officer for over thirty years.”

  “Your mom and me found a way to work it out.” He clambered into the front passenger seat in the SUV. “I’m not saying we didn’t have tough times, but we decided when we first got married that we would never go to bed mad at each other. We would stay up and figure out a way to compromise.”

  Brody could remember a few of those nights, listening to them talk for hours—sometimes in raised voices, but most of the time in low tones. Maybe that was the problem. He’d had a great example of what a marriage should be and hadn’t been able to find someone to share that kind of life with. No, he’d found someone, but she’d fallen in love with another man, while he was only her brother’s best friend. Now, after ten years, they were two different people—shaped by what had occurred to them these past ten years they had been apart.

  “I’m thirty-seven. A little late to change now. Being a bachelor has its advantages.” Brody backed his SUV out of his driveway and turned toward the highway that led to the Circle S Ranch.

  “Name one.”

  “I can do what I want when I want.”

  “Really? You can?”

  He ignored his dad’s sarcasm, punched on the phone in his SUV, and called the ranch. When Hattie answered, he said, “I’m heading your way. Is anyone else up?” To the east the sun peeked over the horizon, painting the sky a rosy hue.

  “Just me and Rebecca.”

  “Let me speak to her.”

  “She’s gone.”

  “Gone? Where?”

  “She rode out to where the accident happened.”

  “She did! How long ago?”

  “Ten minutes maybe. I’m not sure.”

  “Can you connect me with the stables? Maybe someone is up down there, and they can stop her.”

  “Is there a problem?”

  “I don’t want her disturbing the scene.”

  “If it’s an accident, and that’s what Sheriff Overstreet said, then why should that be a problem?”

  Brody pushed his foot down on the accelerator, not sure why he felt such an urgency to get to the ranch. “Hattie, don’t patch me into the stables. Instead, please find Jake and get him to stop Rebecca.”

  “Sure. If he isn’t in his office by now, I think I know where he is.”

  “I’m about thirty minutes out.” Brody disconnected the call and concentrated on the ride in the light, early morning traffic. “She couldn’t wait. She had to go out there first thing. She knew I was coming this morning to ride to the scene.”

  “Are you referring to Rebecca?”

  For a second Brody had forgotten his father was in the car with him. “Yes.”

  “Why are you worried about her? She’s used to riding alone on the ranch. Has for years.”

  “What if her brother’s accident wasn’t an accident at all, but attemp
ted murder instead?”

  Rebecca slowed Angel Fire to a canter and then to a walk as she neared the place where her brother had become tangled in his rope. There was so much that would have to be done today. No matter how hard she tried not to think about what happened yesterday, she had kept coming back to it—all night long. She had to see the place for herself. Try to visualize how it had happened. Be satisfied it was an accident.

  The ground became rockier as she drew nearer to the streambed that was filled with water only in the spring. Even though the bottom of the sun still brushed the eastern horizon, the temperature had risen several degrees since she left the stables half an hour ago, when it was still dim—dawn not quite fully unfolded.

  Usually this was her favorite time of day—right before everything started. But not today. A football field away, rocks littered the ground. Looking at the landscape near the gully, she saw a couple of places where someone could have hidden and surprised her brother—if that was what really had occurred.

  Who would have a beef with Thomas? Everyone loved him. He was generous with his money and time, helping the closest town of Dry Gulch and its people wherever he could. No one with a grievance came to mind. No disgruntled employee. No feuding neighbor.

  Intending to follow the trail to where she had found her brother, Rebecca guided her gelding in the direction Rocket would have run with Thomas—agony jammed her throat with that thought—being dragged behind him. The horrifying image snuck into her mind like a fox into a henhouse. Would Thomas ever wake up? Walk again? Fully recover?

  “Will he, Lord?” she shouted in the early morning quiet. Anger surged up in her like an oil well gushing. “Why has this happened? He’s a good man.”

  She’d read somewhere that yelling to release anger and frustration was supposed help. She released a scream, but it didn’t help at all. When she found hoof prints in the dirt—more than what Rocket would have made—the reins dug into her palms. She began to systematically examine the ground for anything that might give a hint as to what had happened. Her survey halted when she noticed drag marks in the dust, the vegetation broken as her brother’s body had plowed through it.