A Little Town in Texas

by Bethany Campbell

  She jerked her chin up in surprise and defiance. “Where’d you hear that?” she demanded.

  His smile grew more sardonic. He got back inside the car. “Stay away from me, Mitchell. I might find out a lot more than that.” He started the car, turned it and gunned it out of the parking lot.

  She stood staring after him, her fists clenched and her heart pounding. “And I’ll find out about you,” she vowed. “Wait and see, pretty boy.”

  CAL DROVE BACK to the Double C. He pulled into the driveway at the same time Tyler did in the winery truck. Tyler looked in a dark mood, and Cal wondered if it was because of Fabian’s latest mischief.

  “Has the mail come yet?” Cal asked as they walked up the porch steps.

  “No. Why?”

  “Have you seen this?” Cal thrust out the new brochure.

  Tyler’s black eyebrows lowered in a frown. “No. What is it?”

  Cal folded the pages back and showed Tyler. “Look at this. ‘First Offerings.’ ‘Phase One.’ Sounds like he’s just gettin’ started.”

  Tyler gritted his teeth in exasperation. He swore. “The bastard’s already got four thousand acres. He thinks he’s going to get more? Why’s he so sure of himself?”

  “I don’t know. He’s up to something. I’d bet money on it. I came to warn Daddy. I don’t want him hittin’ the roof.”

  “Yeah?” Tyler said, scanning the page. “Well, if you’re betting money, bet that he’ll get riled. Hell, I don’t need this. On top of everything else.”

  Cal narrowed his eyes and studied Tyler’s taut face. “What’s ‘everything else?’”

  “That’s why I came over here. I need to talk to you. Alone.”

  Cal had a sudden sense of foreboding. He knew Tyler well enough to know something serious was looming. “Talk? About what?”

  “Later,” Tyler muttered. “Let’s show this thing to Daddy before he sees it on his own.” The two men went inside, but the house seemed deserted. Serena and Cynthia had taken the twins to the Austin museum. No one was in sight, and the quiet seemed unnatural.

  Then a harsh noise, a heavy screeching, came from down the hall. Tyler frowned harder, and Cal cocked his head, puzzled. The same noise, along with a thump, came again. The sound issued from the guest room.

  “Daddy?” Cal called. He jammed the brochure in the hip pocket of his jeans, went to the door of the guest room and shoved it open.

  J.T. was struggling to move the king-size bed by himself. His face was flushed with the effort, and he was pushing with all his might, the veins in his neck bulging.

  “Lord, Daddy,” Cal said, “what you tryin’ to do?”

  “I’m moving this goddamn bed,” grunted J.T. “What’s it look like?”

  “Like you’re givin’ yourself a hernia,” Cal answered. “Let us do it. You’re gonna pop a blood vessel. C’mon, Tyler.”

  “Why’re you moving the bed?” Tyler asked.

  “I decided to, that’s all,” J.T. said from between clenched teeth.

  “Where you want to move it to?” Cal looked around the room. It had no free wall space.

  “I’m putting it where the dresser is,” J.T. muttered.

  “Good God, that dresser weighs three hundred pounds,” Cal said. “You couldn’t move that by yourself.”

  Cal and Tyler took charge of the bed and moved it easily away from the wall and to the middle of the room. “Now this,” Cal said to Tyler, nodding toward the dresser. “Then we can go out and lift tractors for a rest.”

  “I can do it myself,” J.T. protested. “I’m not such an old fart I have to have my children come and move a few sticks of furniture.” Still, he paused and leaned against the wall, tired but too proud to sit down.

  Tyler groaned at the dresser’s weight. “Jeez, what’s this thing made of? Lead?”

  “Yes,” Cal ground out. “And it’s full of cast iron underwear.” At last they had wrestled the two pieces of furniture into place.

  “I don’t see the point,” Tyler said, rubbing his arm. “It doesn’t look any better than before. I don’t think it looks as good.”

  “Well,” Cal said artlessly, “that bed’s real noisy when you’re makin’ whoopee with the little woman. Did we keep you awake, Daddy?”

  “No,” J.T. snapped. He gave the bed a disapproving look. “Let’s get some iced tea or something.”

  He led his sons down the hall and into the kitchen. Cal noticed that his father limped slightly. “You hurt yourself, Daddy?” he asked. “You look a little gimpy.”

  “It’s nothing,” J.T. answered. “A little arthritis.”

  “You seen Nate Purdy?”

  “Hell, he’s got it worse than I do,” J.T. grumbled. “The old coot.”

  “Maybe you ought to see a specialist,” Cal said. “Take care of yourself—”

  J.T., opening the refrigerator, scowled at his younger son. “Having a touch of arthritis doesn’t mean I’m at death’s door.”

  “I didn’t say it did,” Cal argued. “I got some myself—in my back. Got bucked off too many broncs.”

  “You’re lucky you can still walk,” Tyler said dryly. “We used to think they’d bring you home in a body bag.”

  “Ah,” said Cal, “but I had fun while it lasted.”

  J.T. set the pitcher on the table and took three glasses from the cupboard. “Fun,” he snorted. He gave Cal a sharp glance. “You were in town this morning. Anything up?”

  Cal knew it was his duty to break the news. “Yeah. Fabian’s sent out a new brochure. The way it’s worded, it sounds like he’s set on expanding.”

  J.T. stiffened in displeasure. “You got a copy?”

  Cal pulled it from his pocket and handed it to his father. Tyler pointed out the ominous words.

  J.T. sat down heavily at the table and bent over the brochure, studying it. His shoulders slumped, and as he read, his face seemed to age five years. Cal felt a frisson of alarm.

  J.T. slapped the table in disgust. “It’s that new lawyer. Nick Belyle’s brother. He’s going to start flashing money around. So much that somebody’ll cave in and sell.”

  “Maybe it’s inevitable, Daddy,” Tyler said. “You know, there may come a point where it’s foolhardy to fight him any longer.”

  J.T. shot him a fierce glance, and Cal looked askance at his brother. Tyler would never have dared say such a thing to their father in public.

  Tyler’s jaw jutted out. “What if Fabian offers so much money nobody can resist? Even you?”

  “Even he hasn’t got that much money,” J.T. said stonily. “I’ll eat this land before I sell it.”

  Cal sat down across from his father. “Daddy,” he said carefully, “I been thinking. I asked my partners about lawyers who handle cases like this. We can get you some heavy cannons.”

  J.T.’s eyes narrowed. “My lawyers aren’t just popguns, you know.”

  Cal put his hand on his father’s clenched one. “I’m just sayin’ you can’t have too much help. A couple of attorneys owe me and my partners favors. They’re willin’ to help. It can’t hurt.”

  “Where did these hotshots come from all of a sudden?” J.T. asked suspiciously. “And why do they owe you and these partners favors?”

  “They come from here and there,” Cal said. “We helped some folks. They’re grateful.”

  Tyler sat down, looking unconvinced. “What’s in it for you and your partners?”

  Cal gave his brother a cool smile. “If Fabian’s forced out, somebody’s got to buy that land. My partners think it might be a good investment. Could be.”

  “For what?” J.T. demanded.

  “Somethin’ better than Bluebonnet Meadows,” Cal said.

  Tyler raised an eyebrow. “Ha! You can’t play in Fabian’s league. You’d have to hock everything you own.”

  Cal only shrugged. “It’s an idea, that’s all.”

  J.T. frowned. “I hear that Fabian’s going around picking Texas legislators and commissioners like they were daisi
es. Throwing money at everybody—campaign contributions, fund-raisers, lobbyists…”

  “That’s right, Daddy,” Cal said. “All that and more. So better be ready to roll in the heavy artillery. A couple phone calls, and it’s done.”

  J.T. shook his head. “I need—I need to talk it over with the other members of the Concerned Citizens group before bringing in more lawyers.”

  “Why should they care?” Cal shrugged. “It won’t cost ’em nothin’.”

  “And Cynthia,” J.T. muttered. “Cynthia’s smart about these things.”

  “She’ll tell you to do it,” Cal said. He knew Cynthia would agree.

  “And the lawyers,” J.T. said. “Martin Avery. And the ones in Dallas. They can’t just be—replaced. I’ve known some of these men a long time.”

  “You’re not replacin’ ’em,” said Cal. “You’re augmentin’ ’em.”

  “I still have to consult folks,” J.T. said. “I have to—consult folks. How many more lawyers you talking about?”

  Cal held up two fingers.

  J.T. cocked an eyebrow skeptically. “And they’d work for nothing?”

  “They’re mostly environmentalists. They can write it off as pro bono.”

  J.T. shook his head wearily. “This is giving me a belly ache. I’ve got to take some of Nate’s damn pills. Then I’m going to saddle up, take a long ride and mull over this mess. ‘First Offering.’ ‘Phase One.’ Damn.”

  He got up and walked toward the bathroom, rubbing his stomach. Cal and Tyler looked after him. When J.T. disappeared, Tyler turned to Cal, his lip curled. “I never heard anybody who could shovel bullshit like you.”

  Cal feigned innocence. “I got no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

  “You don’t have any free lawyers owing you favors. There’s no such thing as a free lawyer. That’s just talk.”

  “Believe what you want,” Cal said. “Believe the world is flat if it makes you happy.”

  Tyler leaned across the table, his dark gaze grim. “You’re paying for some dream team to come here because you think we can’t afford lawyers good enough to fight Fabian.”

  “How’s Donna?” Cal asked, stirring sugar into his tea. Donna was Tyler’s older daughter. “Daddy said Ruth was takin’ her to the new pediatrician. She okay?”

  “It’s only allergies,” Tyler said. “Don’t change the subject. You’re going to pay for these legal eagles and lie about it. To spare Daddy’s feelings. And everybody else’s.”

  “I ain’t lyin’,” Cal lied. “And even if I was, what’s wrong with sparin’ Daddy’s feelin’s? This deal has got under his skin bad.”

  Tyler leaned closer. “I know that. I’m here every day. I see it. It’s wearing him down. Ruth and I talked about it a long time last night.”

  Cal tipped back his chair so it balanced on the back two legs. “Oh? And what’d you and Ruth say?”

  Tyler suddenly looked defensive. “That maybe we’re all fools to fight Fabian. That maybe it’s inevitable he’ll win. Why should Daddy fret himself into the grave over it?”

  Cal crossed his arms and nodded skeptically. “I see. This is a brand new song you’re singin’. You have done changed your tune. Why?”

  Tyler stood and started pacing the kitchen. He stopped when they heard the front door slam. J.T. had gone out. Tyler hooked his thumbs in his belt and stared at his brother. “Cynthia’s worried about Daddy. So are Ruth and I. He’s going to work himself into another heart attack.”

  “I’m trying to take some pressure off him,” Cal said, still balancing the chair on its hind legs.

  “Maybe you’re putting more on him,” Tyler retorted. “What if Fabian made Daddy an offer? Enough money to set him up for the rest of his life?”

  Cal laughed. “Daddy wouldn’t take it.”

  “What if Cynthia wanted him to?” Tyler said, almost combatively. “What if Ruth and I agreed? And what if Lynn did, too?”

  Cal let the chair settle back on all four legs. He frowned at Tyler. “Why’re you talkin’ like this? A couple of days ago you were ready to fight to the death for the old homestead. What changed your mind?”

  Tyler turned his back on Cal. He leaned his hands on the sink counter and gazed out the window. “We got a call last night,” he said shortly.

  Cal studied his brother’s tall, tensed body. Again he sensed trouble was afoot, and it was big. He rose and walked to Tyler’s side. He put his hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong, Tyler?”

  “I’ve got choices to make,” Tyler said, not looking at him.

  Cal grasped his shoulder more tightly. “What choices? Tell me. Don’t play games, Tyler. We’re too old for that.”

  Tyler sighed harshly. He shook his head. “You’ve noticed Ruth’s been quiet? She’s going back to California tomorrow. She’s taking the kids.”

  Cal was stunned. “She’s leavin’ you?”

  Tyler swallowed and shook his head. “No. Nothing like that. It’s her father. We’ve got word he’s—bad sick. He’s not going to make it.”

  Cal’s emotions spun unpleasantly. He was relieved for Tyler, but at the same time sorry for Ruth. He loved his sister-in-law. “I’m sorry.”

  A muscle twitched in Tyler’s cheek. “He’s got maybe three months to live. Ruth wants to be with him.”

  “I don’t blame her.”

  Tyler gripped the counter more tightly. “We’ve been afraid of this. It’s not like it came out of left field. But it—changes things. Like I said, there are choices to make. Hard ones.” He paused. “I’m going with her.”

  Pieces began to fall into place for Cal. He stared at his brother. “Ruth’s an only child. Her father’s winery…”

  “…is one of the best mid-size wineries in Napa Valley,” Tyler said. “It’s his life’s work. Ruth loves it, too. She grew up there. She’ll inherit it.”

  Cal waited uneasily. He could see the stress in his brother’s face.

  Tyler took a deep breath. “She doesn’t want to sell her father’s place. She can’t stand the idea. It makes her cry. But I don’t know that I can run two. Not when they’re so far apart.”

  Cal felt a rush of disbelief. His brother had slaved to establish the vineyard on the Double C. “You don’t mean you’d leave Texas for good? Well, hell! What about all you’ve built up here?”

  Tyler’s gaze met his, his dark eyes bleak. “That’s a damn good question, isn’t it? I don’t know. She wants us to try to keep both. But if we can’t handle two, we should keep the one in California. It makes twice the money.”

  “You’d sell everything here?” Cal asked in disbelief. “After all the sweat you put in it?”

  “Sell it,” Tyler said grimly. “Or lease it. To you. Or—whoever.”

  Cal swore. “Me? Is that why you’ve been actin’ jumpy ever since I came home?”

  The muscle jerked in Tyler’s cheek again. “Yeah. That’s why. You already own twenty-one per cent. You set up the import thing from Australia. Why shouldn’t you own it all? You’re the rich guy.”

  “Because it’s yours, dammit,” Cal retorted. “And I only own twenty-one per cent until you can pay me back.”

  Tyler gave a sarcastic laugh. “How can I pay you back? I can sell ours and settle up what I owe you. Or I can try to make Ruth sell her father’s property and pay you. It doesn’t work out too well either way, does it?”

  Cal swore more colorfully. “She can’t ask you to choose between your own winery and her daddy’s.”

  “No,” Tyler said evenly, “she hasn’t. Not yet. But it could come to that. I need to go out with her and see if we can handle both places. If it stretches us too thin—we may end up staying there.”

  “You can’t leave Daddy,” Cal argued. “It’d kill him. You’ve always been his right hand.”

  “I love my wife,” Tyler said with bitter simplicity.

  “And what do you mean, if I don’t buy it, you can sell it to ‘whoever’? For God’s sake, you don’t mean Fabian, do yo
u?”

  “If I have to, I will. I don’t want to. But…”

  “Dammit,” Cal said. “Would Ruth let you do that?”

  “I don’t think she’s making distinctions,” Tyler said. “She’s a woman who’s hurting for her father and wants to go home.”

  Cal, who was seldom angry, felt resentment surge through him. “This is her home, dammit! She can’t turn the whole family upside down because she’s got a bad case of homesick blues. I’m gonna speak to that woman. Talk some sense into her—”

  Tyler grabbed him by the arm. “You’re going to say nothing, cowboy. She’s distraught. She loves her father, and he’s dying.”

  “Well, our father don’t look so good himself,” Cal challenged. “You just gonna turn your back on that?”

  Tyler tightened the pressure of his grip. “What’s the matter. Cal?” Tyler taunted. “Won’t all your money fix things the way you want this time?”

  Cal stared at his brother, breathing hard. He clenched and unclenched his fist, but made no other move.

  Tyler said, “The best I can hope for is that I run two wineries. It’s going to be hard. I’ll be back and forth all the time. I can’t look after all that business and Daddy’s, too.”

  Cal’s eyes narrowed. “You’d walk out on him?”

  Tyler’s mouth quirked into an acidic smile. “Look who’s talking. You walked out on him years ago. Did you think I’d always be around to watch out for him, for the whole ranch? Maybe it’s your turn—finally.”

  A punch to the stomach couldn’t have knocked Cal harder. He felt the blood drain from his face, and he blinked hard at Tyler’s accusation.

  “I never meant—” he said, but he couldn’t find words to finish the sentence. Tyler was right. Dependable, unfailing, he’d always been the one who stayed at J.T.’s side. Always. And Cal had taken it for granted.

  “So just what,” Tyler asked with the same smile, “do you have to say, prodigal brother? Prodigal son?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  MEL TURNED toward Fredericksburg even though his appointment was canceled. He’d weave in and out of every back road to throw Kitt off his trail. He’d lay down a path as intricate and serpentine as a Celtic knot.