Texas Tall

by Janet Dailey

  Abner had always envied the Tyler men—their power, their self-confidence, their brazen masculinity. Over the years that envy had fermented to hatred. He’d watched from behind the one-way glass as Will was strip-searched, dressed in an orange jumpsuit, and photographed face-on and in profile. It was satisfying to see a proud man like Will brought down to the level of a common criminal. It would be even more satisfying to see him behind bars.

  The cells were walled on three sides, with bars open to the hallway. Each cell was designed to hold two men, but today most of them were empty. Will would be alone.

  As Abner neared the cell, a nervous prickle stole up his spine. Watching Will from behind mirrored glass was one thing. Facing him, even through iron bars, was another.

  Stopping next to the wall, just short of the cell, he took a careful peek around the corner. Will was stretched out on the lower bunk, his long legs crossed, his arms supporting the back of his head. His eyes were closed.

  Was he asleep? Not likely, Abner surmised, stepping in front of the bars. He was faking it, as if to show his captors how little this humiliating process had affected him.

  Even in the ill-fitting orange jumpsuit, which was inches too short in the legs, Will made an impressive figure—like a sleeping lion, relaxed but alert, and still dangerous.

  Maybe this was a bad idea, coming here without a deputy along. Abner inched back toward the wall, intent on leaving. But just then, Will opened his eyes. His left eyebrow slid upward. For the space of a long breath, nothing else moved. Then he spoke.

  “Do you need something, Sheriff, or did you just come by to gloat?”

  Abner drew himself up. “You’ve no call to say that, Will. It was the judge who put you in here, not me. I’m just doing my job.”

  “Well, do it somewhere else. I may have to be here, but I don’t have to listen to you whine and make excuses. If you’ve got anything to say that’s worth hearing, call my lawyer.” Will rolled over in the bunk, giving Abner a view of his orange-clad back.

  Seething, Abner stalked back up the hall, toward the booking area. With a few well-chosen words, Will had cut him down yet again, making him feel like a small, powerless nobody. And the arrogant bastard had done it lying down in a jail cell.

  Abner’s prostate was acting up again today—or maybe it was just stress. He stopped by the men’s room to relieve himself. A glance in the mirror confirmed what he knew: He was fat and homely, with a dowdy wife, a house full of kids, and a sixteen-year-old daughter who was about to make him a grandfather at forty. He was undereducated, underpaid, and would likely never advance beyond his present job. The confrontation with Will had brought it all home.

  But this fight wasn’t over. Will wouldn’t be so high-and-mighty once he’d been locked up in the state prison for a few years; and Abner was determined to put him there. Whatever it took, whatever he had to do, the sheriff vowed, he would break Will Tyler and bring him to his knees.

  * * *

  Clay got the call from Stella as he was leaving work. Her timing was so spot-on that he suspected the woman was somewhere in the parking lot, watching him from her car. “I take it you’ve heard the news,” he said.

  “More or less. But I wouldn’t mind hearing your take on the story.”

  “We lucked out with the judge. But getting a jury to convict him won’t be that easy. The evidence that Will Tyler shot your brother in self-defense was pretty persuasive, especially the taped interview with his daughter.”

  “Well, now, that’s your problem, isn’t it, Mr. Prosecutor?” Her tone made Clay want to wrap his hands around her neck and shake her till it snapped. “Tell me about the evidence,” she said.

  “No surprises. There was the knife, the two guns involved, Will’s flashlight, Nick’s helmet, and the packet of cocaine that the deputy found on the bike. The fact that Nick was probably dealing won’t help our side any.”

  She sighed. “Oh, Lordy, I told him to stay away from that awful stuff. If only he’d listened to me.”

  Her performance was an act, Clay knew. Stella had her fingers in plenty of dirty pies, including illegal drugs. But trying to prove it would be like slitting his own throat.

  “What about the witnesses?” she asked.

  “Again, no surprises. Abner, the coroner, one deputy, the tape of the girl, and parts of Will’s taped interview.”

  “But nothing that would cast doubt on his story?”

  “Not really. That’s why everybody was surprised by the judge’s decision.”

  Not quite everybody, Clay knew. Convincing the judge that justice would be best served by a trial had involved some advance persuasion on his part, along with a bottle of very expensive Scotch. A bit unethical? Maybe, but it was how smart lawyers worked the system.

  “Well, Clay, it sounds to me like you’ve got homework to do.”

  He imagined her licking her chops like a hungry cat. “Any suggestions?”

  “You’re a smart man. You’ll figure something out. You’d better.” She let the implication hang.

  “I want that tape when this is over, Stella. You’ll owe me that much if I win.”

  She chuckled. “We’ll see about that. Ask me again when Will Tyler’s on his way to prison.”

  She ended the call, leaving Clay standing by his car, cursing silently at his cell phone. The day was brisk, but he could smell the sweat under his suit jacket.

  The trial date wouldn’t be set until the bail hearing tomorrow. But the court’s docket wasn’t crowded. A manslaughter case shouldn’t take more than a few weeks, a month at most, to schedule and prepare. Meanwhile, as Stella had said, he had homework to do.

  When it came to threats, the woman wasn’t bluffing. If rumors were to be believed, she’d already taken down one powerful man who’d failed to deliver—the late congressman Garn Prescott. If Will Tyler went free, Clay knew she wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to him.

  He started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, thinking as he drove. Every defense, even a solid one, had its weak spots, and Clay prided himself on being able to find them. This time he would need to be at his sharpest and most ruthless. His career, his family, and perhaps his freedom would be hanging in the balance.

  The evidence was straightforward and had been seen by everyone involved. Not much room for manipulation there. He’d have some leeway with jury selection, but Tori would have to approve any juror he chose. Regarding the witnesses, most of them appeared to be favorable to the defense—except for Abner.

  Clay remembered their meeting in his office before the inquest. The sheriff had seemed almost as anxious as Clay was to get a conviction. Either Stella had something on him, or he just plain hated Will Tyler. Maybe both.

  Abner could be the key to winning this case, especially if he could be manipulated into twisting a few facts. Much as Clay disliked the pompous little toad, maybe it was time to give some thought to an alliance.

  * * *

  The next morning Will, dressed in a suit Tori had delivered to the jail, appeared before the judge. The proceedings took no more than a few minutes. Bail was set at $15,000, the trial scheduled for early next month. Beau posted the bond with the clerk, and Will was released to go home.

  Beau drove him back to the Rimrock in the Jeep, with Tori following in her station wagon. Will had been gone less than twenty-four hours. But the man returning was no longer the man who’d left the ranch yesterday. Will had experienced rage, shame, and humiliation in a way he’d never known before. And he’d been slapped with the cold possibility of losing all he held dear.

  As the Jeep turned off the highway and up the long, straight road to the ranch, he gazed out the window at the autumn landscape. The ice storm had drained the rich gold from the grass and stripped the leaves from the cottonwoods and willows. But there was a stark beauty in the pale sweep of the plain, with the russet cliffs of the escarpment jutting against the November sky. Where the creek ran, the leafless willows hung deep bloodred, a slash of crims
on against the ecru skin of the land.

  Off to the right, the alkali lake, where Jasper liked to hunt wild turkey, had dried to a glittering white smear. Patches of blackened earth and the skeletons of burnt cedar trees marked where the worst of last summer’s fire had burned. But the land was already healing. Next spring the grass would grow and the fire-scarred cottonwoods would leaf out. Bright patches of Indian-blanket gaillardias, Tahoka daisies, blue dayflowers, and blooming cacti would dot the prairie with color, and life would go on, as it always did. Beau and Natalie’s son would be born. Sky and Lauren would marry and begin their family. Erin would grow into graceful young womanhood.

  Would he be here to see it? But with his fate in the balance, Will knew better than to think that far ahead. For the next few weeks, he would live for each day. He would take Jasper bird hunting. He would ride and play chess with Erin, work the stock with Beau and Sky. He would fill his eyes with the sight of Tori and his ears with the sound of her voice. But he would not forget where he’d been or what lay ahead.

  Like ammunition for a coming war, he would store up his anger, his outrage, and his hatred of the corrupt justice system that had allowed this to happen. If the trial went the wrong way, he would need it all to fuel his strength.

  Erin was waiting on the front porch when the jeep pulled up and stopped. As Will climbed out of the passenger side, she flew down the steps and flung herself into his arms. She was growing long and lean like her mother. Her hair smelled of hay and horses. She didn’t speak, but he could tell from the slight jerk of her breathing that she was holding back sobs. With her involvement as a witness in his case, there’d been no way to shield her from what was going on. She knew what her family was facing, and she was handling it with remarkable courage. Will couldn’t have been more proud of her.

  “I love you, Daddy,” she whispered.

  A lump rose in Will’s throat. As he hugged his daughter close, it was as if he could feel the slow breaking of his heart.

  * * *

  Parked next to the Jeep, Tori watched as Erin greeted her father and led him into the house, followed by Beau. This was an emotional time that had little to do with her. She would give them a few minutes before she went inside to join them for lunch.

  Will was her client now. The man she’d loved, married, and divorced, the man who’d given her Erin, the man who’d swept her away in an explosion of need on the night of the storm—that man couldn’t be allowed to matter now. Emotion would only cloud her ability to defend him.

  Once more, applying cold logic, she asked herself the forbidden question—the one she’d been asking, answering, and rethinking all the way on the drive from town to the ranch.

  If the unthinkable happened and Will went to prison, what would be best for Erin?

  Will’s daughter loved being on the ranch, especially her time with Tesoro. She loved the house, loved her room, and loved spending time with Bernice and Jasper. To take that away from her would be cruel. But with Will gone, there’d be no reason to keep the big house open. Bernice could retire and move into Sky’s half of the duplex, next to Jasper. Beau and Natalie would have their own home. So would Sky and Lauren. Erin would be welcome to visit, but nothing would be the same. The Sunday dinners around the dining-room table, the long talks with Jasper on the porch, playing in the paddock with Tesoro, watching sports on the big-screen TV with the men of the family, and helping Bernice in the kitchen—all these things would be gone for her.

  Erin wouldn’t just be losing her father’s presence. She’d be losing her whole happy, secure world.

  But enough, why agonize over something that hadn’t happened—and wasn’t going to happen? She was going to win Will’s case and set him free, Tori told herself. Failure wasn’t an option. The stakes were too high for that.

  She was getting out of the car to go into the house when her cell phone rang. She glanced at the display. The caller was Drew.

  “Hi,” she said, “I was just thinking about you—good thoughts.”

  He laughed. “Nice to know. I was thinking about you, too. Extremely good thoughts. What are you up to today?”

  “I’m at the ranch. Some business with Will’s case.”

  She sensed the slight hesitation. “Oh? How’s that going?”

  “I can’t discuss the details. Lawyer-client privilege. But the trial’s four weeks off, and it’s shaping up to be a fight. I’ll have my work cut out for me.”

  “I take it that means you’re going to be busy.”

  “I am. I’m counting on you to help keep me sane.”

  She meant what she’d just said. If she let him, Drew would provide an oasis of calm amid the craziness of the upcoming trial. Besides, she needed to give him some encouragement. Otherwise, he could be gone. Distracted as she was right now, she wasn’t ready to lose him. When her life slowed down enough to make future plans, she wanted him there.

  “I can do more than that, but not over the phone. Are you free for steak and lobster in Lubbock tonight?”

  Was she? Tori had work to do, but she’d already come to the decision to make time for him. “That sounds wonderful,” she said.

  “Seven o’clock? I’ll pick you up. And I loved that black dress on you the last time.”

  “I’ll wear it again, just for you. And seven is fine. Gotta go.” Tori ended the call, thinking about the need to structure her life into separate compartments—Will’s trial, Will’s family, Erin as her daughter, Erin as a witness, and her time out with Drew. If she tried to deal with everything at once, she’d be on the fast track to a meltdown.

  In the house she found Will, Beau, Bernice, Jasper, and Erin seated around the kitchen table, eating a lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches, baked beans, and potato salad. Tori grabbed a Diet Coke from the fridge and slipped into the empty chair. As if by mutual agreement, they were laughing and exchanging small talk, putting Will’s trouble on hold for now.

  “Lauren’s taking me on a treasure hunt tomorrow,” Erin announced. “We’re packing a picnic and going up the canyon to look for the Spanish gold.”

  “Well, don’t get your hopes up about findin’ it,” Jasper said. “That tale about the Spaniards hidin’ their treasure before the Comanches killed ’em all is nothin’ but a made-up story.”

  “Well, who made it up?” Erin demanded. “That’s what I’d like to know.”

  “Can’t say for sure,” Jasper said. “The story’s been goin’ around since before my time. But I know that Lauren’s granddad Ferg Prescott searched every inch of that little canyon—dug it all up by his self and never found a thing.”

  “Is that why he bought the canyon from Grandpa Bull? Just so he could look for the treasure?”

  “You’d have to ask Old Ferg that question. And he’s long gone to his grave.”

  “Well, maybe he didn’t look hard enough or dig deep enough. If the treasure’s there, we’re going to find it!”

  Tori listened, enjoying the exchange. It was a relief to be talking about something besides Will’s case. Even Will was getting involved in the conversation.

  “You know the canyon belongs to Lauren now,” he said. “Anything you find will be hers.”

  “No,” Erin protested. “Lauren promised me if we find the treasure, we’ll share it with everybody, even Jasper and Bernice.”

  “Now that’s right nice of her,” Jasper said. “ ’Specially for a Prescott. But I’m not holdin’ my breath till you two make us all rich.”

  “It’s not the treasure that matters, Erin,” Tori said. “The important thing is that you and Lauren have a fun adventure. I hope you thanked her for inviting you.”

  “I did.” Erin helped herself to another sandwich. “Sky was going to come, too, but he’s got work, so it’ll be just us girls. Why don’t you come with us, Mom? I know it would be fine with Lauren.”

  “I’m afraid it’ll be a workday for me, too,” Tori said. “Go and have a wonderful time.”

  Disappointment shadowed Erin’s
face. Then she brightened. “The Vegas rodeo finals are on TV tonight. You could stay and watch with Dad and me.”

  Guilt was like a cold stab between Tori’s ribs. “Sorry, sweetheart, but I’ve got work in town this afternoon. And tonight I’ve got plans.”

  Tori’s gaze shifted toward Will. He didn’t speak, but his expression had darkened. No doubt he’d guessed what those plans were. Tori could imagine what he was thinking. Here he was, facing a life-changing ordeal, and she was running off to go on a date with another man.

  Tori looked away, refusing to acknowledge his silent message. As Will’s lawyer, she would give her all to win his case and save him. But she wasn’t his wife anymore—and the fact that she’d slept with him in a weak moment didn’t give him ownership. If she let him, Will would drown her with his need to be in control. That had happened in the past, but it wasn’t going to happen again. She had a private life, and tonight she needed a break.

  “Say, Will.” Beau came to her rescue. “I could use your advice on where to move the cattle next. Maybe this afternoon we could saddle up and ride out to check the grass in the empty pastures.”

  “Sounds fine to me,” Will said.

  “Can I come, too?” Erin asked.

  Will gave her a fatherly frown. “Is your schoolwork done?”

  “I finished it before you got here.”

  “Okay, you can ride along on old Belle. And tonight we can make popcorn and watch the rodeo finals, just you and me, unless Jasper wants to join us.” The look he gave Tori said it all. They were still a family; and at a time like this, it was wrong for her to be away.

  But Tori wasn’t about to let Will push her guilt buttons. She was going out with Drew tonight and, by damn, she was going to have a good time.

  CHAPTER 9

  Tori and Drew lingered over their dessert wine, enjoying the panorama of the city, the glow of candles, and the tinkle of piano blues from the adjoining bar. The steak and lobster had been well-prepared, the atmosphere romantic, the conversation easy.