Texas! Lucky

by Sandra Brown

  God, she was terrific. Lucky wanted to give her a standing ovation. Or a kiss. Or both. She'd cut the s.o.b.'s down to size. But they weren't giving up entirely.

  "Did you sleep without waking up through the night?"

  Lucky recognized the trap and hoped that Devon did. If she said yes, they could claim that he had sneaked out and returned without her knowledge, planning all along to use her as his alibi. Her alternative was to admit that she had been intimate with a stranger.

  "No." At greater risk to herself, she had opted for the latter choice. Lucky admired her spunk, but suffered for her pride. "I woke up once."

  "What for?"

  Despite Pat's restraint, Lucky shot from the seat of the chair. "What the hell difference does it make?"

  Pat shoved him back down, stepped in front of him, and used his own body as a shield between Lucky and the agents, whom Lucky was prepared to tear apart with his bare hands.

  With Lucky temporarily quelled, Pat appealed to the agents. "Look, you two, Ms. Haines has volunteered to come here. You know she's married and that this is uncomfortable for her. Take it easy, okay?"

  They ignored him. "Answer the question. Ms. Haines."

  She glared at the agent, cast Lucky a swift glance, then lowered her head to address her damp, clenched hands lying in her lap. "During the night, Mr. Tyler and I … were physically intimate."

  "Can you prove it?"

  Her head snapped up. "Can you prove we weren't?"

  "No," the agent retorted, "but I've got another woman in another room claiming virtually the same thing, except she says that he bragged to her about setting a fire to collect insurance money."

  "She's lying."

  "Is she?"

  "Yes."

  "How do we know?"

  "Because he was with me all night."

  "Screwing?"

  It would have taken more than Pat Bush's substantial bulk to stop Lucky then. Roaring like a pouncing lion, he launched himself across the room toward the agent who had practically spat the nasty word in Devon's face.

  He threw the agent off balance and into the table, sending it crashing to the floor. Cheap wood splintered. Devon gave a surprised cry, sprang from her chair, and backed toward the door out of harm's way.

  But then Chase pulled open the door and came barreling through, nearly mowing her down. He'd been waiting in the squad room, but at the first hint of trouble had come charging in to offer assistance to his younger brother. The second agent, the one not being pummeled by Lucky's flying fists, charged forward to help his cohort. He was grabbed from behind. "Not so fast, buddy," Chase growled into the agent's ear as he restrained him.

  Pat, recovering from his dismay, dodged Lucky's fists, grabbed him by the collar, and pulled him to his feet. "What the hell's the matter with you?" he shouted. "This isn't going to help."

  He slammed the younger man against the wall and pinned him there by splaying one hand open over Lucky's chest. With his other hand he assisted the agent to his feet.

  Lucky's torso was heaving from exertion and fury. He aimed his index finger at the agent. "You son of a bitch. Don't you ever talk to her—"

  "I'm filing assault charges against you!" the agent shouted. He took a folded white handkerchief from his pocket and tried to stanch the flow of bright red blood from his cut lip.

  "You'll do nothing of the sort," Pat declared in a loud voice. "If you do, I'll go to your superiors and lodge a formal complaint against you for the way you've conducted this interrogation. You intentionally badgered and humiliated Ms. Haines, who was doing her best to cooperate with your investigation."

  "He's right," Chase said through gritted teeth. He had the agent's hands up between his shoulder blades. He pushed them higher. The man groaned. "Isn't he right? Before you answer, maybe you should know that half a dozen deputies and I were listening through the door to every word said in this room."

  "Maybe," the agent gasped, "maybe he did get a little out of hand."

  "Chase," Pat barked, "let him go. His eyes are bugging out."

  Lucky was virtually unaware of what was going on around him. He had tasted blood and wanted more. Glaring at the agent malevolently, he threatened, "I'm gonna nail you—"

  "Lucky, shut up!" Pat called forward a deputy from among those congregated in the doorway. "Take him upstairs and lock him up."

  "Huh?" The sobering thought of a jail cell snapped Lucky out of his murderous mood. "What for?"

  "Suspected arson, remember?" Pat said calmly, nodding the deputy toward Lucky.

  "But I'm innocent!"

  "That's how you can plead before the judge later this afternoon. In the meantime I recommend you teach your mouth some manners and cool off your temper."

  Lucky was too dumbfounded to resist the deputy's manhandling. Besides, this deputy had played on the same regional championship baseball team with Lucky and had been a friend for years. He looked at Devon. "Take her home, Chase."

  "Right," his brother said. "Stay the hell out of trouble, will you?"

  "See you in court," Lucky quipped as he was escorted through the door. His smile vanished, however, when the crowd of deputies, clerks, and dispatchers parted for him, and he noticed a spot of color in the otherwise monochromatic gray squad room. Susan Young was standing against the far wall, twirling a strand of hair around her finger and smiling complacently.

  * * *

  Chapter 14

  "That was a damn stupid thing to do."

  The pickup truck with Tyler Drilling Co. stenciled onto the doors jounced over a chuckhole. Chase downshifted, giving his brother a fulminating glance across the truck's interior. The upholstery's color was no longer distinguishable. It bore layers of grime from scores of drilling sites.

  "Don't you know the penalty for assaulting a federal agent?"

  "No, do you?" Lucky shot back.

  "You know what I mean."

  "Well, I wasn't penalized, so leave me alone, okay?" Lucky slumped lower in his seat as Chase herded the pickup through the twilight evening toward their family home. Then, feeling bad for acting surly toward his brother, he added, "Thanks for posting my bail."

  "Thank Tanya. The money came out of her house fund."

  "Her what?"

  "Her house fund. She wants to buy a house, and has been saving money for a down payment."

  Lucky shoved back his dark blond hair. "Jeez. I feel terrible."

  "Not as terrible as you'd feel spending the time before your trial in jail. And not as terrible as you'd feel if the judge had listened to the prosecutor and placed your bail higher than we could afford."

  The federal agents had convinced the prosecutor that they had enough evidence against James Lawrence Tyler to arraign him on an arson charge. They contended that if one woman would lie on his behalf, another would. Why should they believe Devon over Susan? It would be left to the court to decide the veracity of each woman and determine Lucky's guilt or innocence.

  Everyone on Lucky's side believed that the agents were acting out of pique now more than conviction of his guilt, but unfortunately there was nothing they could do about it at this point.

  Lucky's attorney had pleaded with the judge to reduce the amount of bail recommended by the prosecutor. He cited how well known Lucky was in the community, and guaranteed that his client had every intention of appearing in court to deny the allegations and clear his name. The judge had known the Tyler boys all their lives. They were rowdy, but hardly criminals. He'd been lenient.

  "How's Devon?" Lucky asked now.

  "Pretty shaken up. Mother took her under her wing."

  "Is there any way we can keep her name out of the newspapers? At least until the actual trial?"

  "So far, nobody but the people in that interrogation room know who your alibi is. I doubt the feds will tell anybody. They don't want anyone to know that one of them was overpowered and damn near beat to a pulp." Chase cast his brother another glance of reprimand. "Dumb move, Lucky. If Pat hadn't been there
to smooth things over, you'd be in a world of hurt."

  Lucky, however, was only interested in Devon's opinion of him. "She probably thinks I'm a hothead."

  "You are a hothead."

  "And you're not?"

  "I've got better sense than to attack a federal agent."

  "One of them never talked to your woman like that agent did."

  "Oh, so now she's 'your woman'?" Chase asked.

  "Just an expression."

  "Or a Freudian slip."

  Lucky stared glumly through the bug-splattered windshield. "Who ever would have thought a fist-fight at the place would result in a mess like this?"

  Chase offered no reply, but the question had been rhetorical anyway. Broodily Lucky contemplated the scenery that whizzed past.

  "Anybody seen or heard from Little Alvin and Jack Ed lately?"

  "Nope. They're keeping a low profile."

  "If you ask me, the feds would do better to lay off us and Devon and go after those two."

  "Yeah, but nobody asked you." Chase wheeled the truck into the lane leading to the house, from which mellow golden light was pouring through the windows. "Don't entertain any notions about going after them yourself," Chase warned. "We don't need another assault charge against you."

  "Devon's still here."

  Lucky was heartened by the sight of her red compact in the driveway. Chase parked the truck beside it. Once out of the pickup, Lucky jogged up the steps and through the front door.

  "Hey, everybody, the jailbird is free!"

  "That's not funny," Laurie admonished as he entered the living room where she was sitting with Devon, Sage, and Tanya. Chase had phoned ahead and reported the outcome of the arraignment.

  "Neither is jail," Lucky said in an appropriately solemn tone. Crossing to where Devon was seated on the sofa, he dropped down beside her and, without compunction, covered her knee with his hand. "You okay?"

  "I'm fine."

  "Did those bastards give you any grief after I was taken away?"

  "No. They allowed me to leave. Chase drove me here." She gave Laurie, Sage, and Tanya smiles. "I've been well looked after, although all the fuss was unnecessary."

  "After the dreadful way you were treated?" Laurie stood up. "Of course it was necessary, and then some. My family owes you a debt of gratitude, Devon." She moved toward the arched opening. "Boys, wash up. We've been holding dinner for you."

  "I'd like a chance to speak to Devon alone, Mother," Lucky said.

  "After dinner. I'm sure she's famished. Chase, stop that smooching and usher everybody into the dining room, please."

  Chase reluctantly released Tanya, whose neck he'd been nibbling. Laughing, he remarked, "We should have had Mother in that interrogation room with us today. They wouldn't have dared cross her."

  Laurie had heeded Lucky's earlier request and cooked a sumptuous country dinner of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, corn on the cob, and black-eyed peas. She'd made his favorite banana pudding for dessert. Despite the events of the afternoon, the mood at the dinner table was jolly.

  As they were finishing their dessert and coffee, Tanya clinked her fork against her drinking glass. Everyone fell silent and looked at her, surprised because she so rarely called attention to herself.

  "I think this family needs a piece of good news." Reaching for her husband's hand, she smiled into his eyes and proclaimed, "There's a new Tyler on the way. I'm pregnant."

  Laurie clasped her hands beneath her chin, her eyes immediately growing misty. "Oh, how wonderful!"

  Sage gave a raucous, unladylike hoot. Lucky guffawed. "Don't look now, big brother, but you just dropped a gooey bite of pudding into your lap."

  Chase, gaping at his wife, lowered his empty spoon back into his dessert plate. "You … you mean it? You're sure?"

  Gleefully Tanya bobbed her head up and down. "You're going to be a daddy."

  * * *

  Having reached the white wooden fence that enclosed the peach orchard, Devon rested her forearms on the top rung and took a deep, cleansing breath. Lucky stood beside her. It was the first moment they'd had alone since Chase had brought him back from town. Following Tanya's announcement, everybody had started firing questions at once, which she fielded with poise.

  No, she wasn't very far along, but the pregnancy had been positively confirmed. Yes, she was feeling quite well, thank you. No, she hadn't had any morning sickness yet.

  Yes, she was due around the first of the year.

  No, the doctor didn't expect any difficulties. Discussion of the baby had prolonged dinner. Finally Laurie had stood to clear the table, shooing Devon and Lucky out. The evening was close and warm, the air heavy with humidity and the heady, fertile scents of spring.

  Turning her head toward Lucky, Devon asked, "Did you know?"

  "What? About Tanya?" He shook his head. "No. But it didn't really surprise me. They've made no secret of wanting kids. It was just a matter of time. I'm glad she chose tonight to announce it."

  The top railing of the fence caught him in the middle of his back as he leaned against and turned to face her. There was a soft breeze blowing, lifting strands of burnished hair out of her restrictive bun. Sage had loaned her some clothes. She had traded her business suit for a casual, long-skirted jumper worn over a T-shirt. She was making it tough on him to decide which way he liked her best. Whether soft or sophisticated, she always looked terrific.

  "Your mother is really something," she was saying. "She's strong and yet compassionate. A rare combination."

  "Thanks. I think she's special too. I was afraid you'd think the Tylers are all a little crazy. Picking fights one minute. Crying over a coming baby the next."

  She plucked a leaf off the nearest peach tree and began to pull it through her fingers. "No, it's nice, the closeness you share."

  "You didn't have a close family?"

  "Not really. Just my parents and me. No brothers or sisters."

  Lucky couldn't imagine such a thing and said so. "Chase and I used to fight like cats and dogs. Still do sometimes. But we're best friends, too, and would do anything for each other."

  "That's obvious. I remember the look on his face when he came charging through the door of that interrogation room."

  Enough time had elapsed that they could smile about it now. Lucky was the first to turn serious again. "I thought the family bonds might weaken after Dad died. Instead, they're stronger than ever. Mother's held us together admirably."

  "Tell me about him."

  "My dad? He was strict, but fair. All us kids knew we were loved. He spoiled us and spanked us equally, I guess you could say. To him there were no gray areas where honesty and integrity are concerned. We knew he loved God, his country, and our mother. He was openly affectionate with her, and always respectful."

  "So it stands to reason that his son would leap to the defense of a woman in distress."

  He gave her a self-deprecating grin and a slight shrug. "Conditioned reflex." Reaching out, he caught a loose strand of her hair and rubbed it between his finger. "What was life like for Devon Haines when she was a little girl?"

  "Lonely at times." Her expression became introspective. "Unlike your father, mine wasn't a very warm and giving person. In fact, he was demanding. My mother fetched and carried for him from the moment she said 'I do' until the day he died. Their roles were rigidly defined. He was the domineering breadwinner; she was the obedient good little wife. She spent her days keeping his castle spotless, and her evenings waiting on him hand and foot."

  "Hmm. Is that why their little girl turned out to be such a militant feminist?"

  "I'm not militant."

  Lucky raised his hands in surrender. "I'm unarmed."

  "I'm sorry," she said with chagrin. "Maybe I am a trifle defensive."

  "That's okay." Then, bending down closer to her, he whispered, "If your eyes keep flashing green fire like that, I'm gonna have to kiss you." He said it teasingly, but his eyes conveyed the message that he meant it.
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  Devon looked away to stare down the neat, straight row of carefully cultivated peach trees. Their branches were already burdened with unripened fruit.

  "My mother's whole life revolved around my father. When he died, she was left with nothing to live for."

  "What about you?"

  "I guess I didn't really count."

  "That rejection must have hurt."

  "It did." She sighed. "Two miserable years after my father's death, she died too."

  "How?"

  The ground beneath them held her attention for a moment. When she began speaking, her voice was thick. "For as long as I can remember, my mother was a hypochondriac. She constantly complained of minor aches and pains. They kept her from attending functions throughout my schooling. I couldn't have friends over because she felt bad. That kind of thing."

  Lucky muttered something unflattering about the late Mrs. Haines, but Devon shook her head. "I guess the hypochondria was her only means of getting attention from my father. Anyway, I learned early on to dismiss mother's 'illnesses.'

  "After my father died, they increased in frequency and severity. Because her life had been so wrapped up in his, she had nothing to occupy her mind except her own body and its many failings. I was just out of college, scrambling to find a job that would subsidize her pension. Frankly, hearing about each stabbing pain and dull ache drove me crazy. I tuned her out as much as possible." She pinched off a piece of the leaf and tossed it into the wind.

  "She began to claim that the pains were getting worse. The more she complained about her discomfort, the more stubbornly I ignored her. I thought that honoring the hypochondria would only encourage it."

  She rolled her lips inward and pressed on them so hard that the rims turned white.

  Lucky saw the tears collecting in her eyes. He took her hand and interlaced her fingers with his.

  "One day Mother said she was having difficulty in swallowing. She couldn't eat. Everything I gave her came right back up. I … I relented and took her to see the doctor." Unable to go on, she pulled her hand from his and covered her face with both hands.