Texas Tall

by Janet Dailey

  He never asked who the customers were, never even looked at their faces, if he could help it. Most of them, he suspected, were local users or small-time dealers who worked nearby cities like Lubbock and Wichita Falls. The less he knew about them, the better.

  The source of Stella’s drug supply remained a mystery as well. He’d heard rumors she had connections with a Mexican cartel and a powerful Dallas crime family. But these were only rumors. Stella Rawlins played her cards close to her ample chest. Nobody was in a position to accuse her of any crimes—including Ralph himself.

  Ralph was startled from his musings by the flash of red and blue lights in his rearview mirror. His heart dropped like a buckshot quail as he pulled over to the side of the road, braked, and rolled down the window, praying he could bluff his way out of the situation.

  The sheriff ’s vehicle parked behind him. The door opened and the officer climbed out. Lord help me, it’s Abner.

  “Hey, Ralph.” The sheriff was just tall enough to peer in the window of the truck. His headlights illuminated the space behind him. “I recognized your old truck. D’you know you’ve got a taillight out?”

  “No.” Stomach clenching, Ralph forced himself to look his father-in-law in the eye. “Thanks. I’ll get it fixed tomorrow.”

  Abner didn’t budge. “What’re you doing out here at this hour, anyway? Is Vonda all right?”

  “She’s fine. Just touchy, with the baby so close and all. We had a spat tonight. Nothing serious, just this and that. I’m taking a drive to cool down and clear my head.”

  “Vonda was always a feisty one.” Abner sounded as if he missed his daughter. “But you’d better be getting home to her. She could go into labor, and her all alone in that little house without a car.”

  “Yes, sir, I’ll do that.” Ralph started the engine.

  “Oh, and be careful on these back roads at night,” Abner added. “We’ve had some reports of illegal drug trade out this way. Run into those scum balls, and they’d just as soon shoot you as look at you.”

  “Thanks, I’ll be careful. I’m going now.” Ralph shifted into low and pressed the gas pedal.

  “That’s a good boy! Go home to your wife!” Abner slapped the fender of the truck as Ralph drove away. Ralph was shaking like a junkie in need of a fix. Running deliveries for Stella was such easy money and paid so well that he tended to forget how risky it could be. Get caught by the law, and you’d wind up in prison. A deal gone bad, or even a case of mistaken identity, and you could wind up dead, like Stella’s bartender brother, who’d been shot by Will Tyler. Anything could go wrong out here.

  But he didn’t plan to stay in this business long, Ralph reminded himself. All he wanted was enough money to buy a decent vehicle, leave Blanco Springs—and Vonda—in his rearview mirror, and never look back. With the new, better-paying jobs Stella had mentioned, he should be able get there even faster than he’d hoped.

  Glancing in his side mirror, he saw the taillights of Abner’s big, tan sheriff ’s vehicle vanishing down the dark road. He’d handled that encounter like a pro, Ralph told himself. Everything had gone fine. And if he played his cards right, things were bound to get even better. Nobody was going to suspect the sheriff ’s son-in-law of carrying drugs in his old rust bucket of a truck—not even the sheriff himself.

  “Hello, Stella . . .”

  The razor-sharp voice pulled Stella out of a deep sleep. The woman bending over her bed was tall, with ropy muscles and long black hair, which hung in strings over her ragged gray T-shirt. An ugly white scar slashed the left side of her lean Comanche face from her temple to the corner of her mouth. In her right hand she gripped a huge, gleaming kitchen knife. Laughing like a witch, she raised the knife high and brought it down in a swooping arc . . .

  Stella woke with a gasp. Her heart was pounding, her body drenched in cold sweat. Jerking bolt upright in bed, she stared into the darkness. It’s all right, she told herself. I’m safe. She’d been dreaming again, that was all.

  Shaking, she glanced at the bedside clock. The luminous digits read three-fifteen. Too early to get up and make coffee. But how could she go back to sleep after that god-awful nightmare? She should’ve known better than to mention Lute’s sister, Marie Fletcher, to young Ralph. It was as if speaking the name had been enough to trigger the dream that had plagued her for months.

  Stella had survived and thrived because of her ability to control people. But she’d never been able to control Marie. In fact, it almost had been the other way around. Using her married name, Marie Johnson, the woman had hired on as a waitress. But her real agenda had been to avenge her brother’s death and take over Stella’s operation. After Stella hired a Dallas hit man to take Marie out, Marie had fled on her motorcycle, leaving the gunman to burn to death in his blazing car.

  Marie was still out there somewhere, and Stella had no doubt that someday she’d be back for revenge.

  Now that Nicky was dead, Stella had lost her only protector. She’d changed the locks on the Blue Coyote, bought extra fastenings for the doors and windows of her apartment, had an alarm installed on her Buick, and kept a gun within reach, even in the bathroom. But nothing could lock out her fear, or those blood-chilling dreams.

  The bedroom was cool. Stella swung her feet to the floor; she reached for her Chinese silk robe and pulled it around her. At this hour there’d be nothing on the living-room TV but infomercials, shopping shows, and religious rants. But anything would be better than going back to sleep and waking up in the nightmare again, with Marie looming over her bed.

  In the kitchen she took a cold beer from the fridge, popped the tab, carried it to the sofa, and switched on the TV. The pitch woman on the shopping channel was selling fake Navajo turquoise jewelry that was probably made in a Shanghai sweatshop. Stella stared blankly at the screen, her thoughts elsewhere. Maybe it was time to pull up stakes and leave the country. There were quiet places in Mexico where Marie would never find her. She had useful contacts there and enough money to last her for years. She’d be fine.

  But she had unfinished business here in Blanco Springs. Will Tyler had murdered her brother, and she couldn’t walk away until she’d seen the high-and-mighty son of a bitch pay for what he’d done. She’d been counting on the law to put him away, but the process was taking far too long. The trial was still two weeks away. Meanwhile, Will Tyler was out on bail and sitting pretty. She’d wanted him to suffer, and he was doing far too little of that. She was getting impatient. She wanted some action. Maybe it was time she took matters into her own hands.

  With Slade Haskell and Hoyt Axelrod both dead, she was short-handed when it came to taking vengeance. All she had was a friendly sheriff, a county prosecutor who was scared to death of her, and a willing but inexperienced young flunky. But she’d managed with less. There had to be something she could do.

  It would have to look like an accident—one that couldn’t be traced back to her. And it would have to be devastating, something that would strike at the very heart of the Tylers’ ranch.

  Stella lit a cigarette, inhaled, and blew a smoke ring up into the darkness. Whatever her plan turned out to be, she’d enjoy thinking about it for the rest of the night.

  * * *

  Tori drove up to the house, parked, and stepped out of the station wagon with her briefcase. Looking across the yard, she could see Will and Erin standing by the paddock fence, watching the spring-born foals romp in the late-November sunshine.

  Something tightened around Tori’s heart as her gaze took in the two of them. Erin was pointing toward her young palomino, exclaiming about something. Will was nodding, listening to every word, as if memorizing the sound of her voice.

  With Thanksgiving three days away, and the trial scheduled for the following Wednesday, these precious days were all about family. No one at the ranch had expressed any doubt that Will would be acquitted; but everyone, including Will, seemed to be quietly preparing for the worst.

  Days ago Tori had notarized a docu
ment giving Beau power of attorney to sell Rimrock land without the need for Will’s signature. Either way the trial went, with the hundred-thousand-dollar bank loan due with interest by January 1, they’d have to find a buyer for the land or lose it to the bank. There was no other way to pay the money off. These were dark days for the Rimrock. But at least this year, the ranch family could celebrate Thanksgiving Day together.

  Tori was crossing the yard to join Will and Erin at the fence when her cell phone rang. It was Drew. She stopped to take the call.

  “Hi,” he said. “I was hoping I could catch you before I left for my sister’s.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be in school today?” she asked.

  “No, I decided to play hooky. Since I’ll be driving to Omaha and back for the big day, I thought I’d take the whole week off. The assistant principal can ride herd on the students for a few days.”

  “Well, here’s wishing you a great trip.” Tori had neglected Drew for the past week. She hadn’t meant to do that. But the coming trial and Will’s other problems had drained her time and energy until there was nothing left for her so-called social life. “Sorry I’ve been so unavailable,” she said. “I hope you’ll let me make it up to you later.”

  “I plan to give you plenty of chances,” he said. “But I want to leave you with one thought. I’ve stood back and been patient while you’ve dealt with the trial and the issues related to it. But once that trial is over, no matter how it turns out, you’ll need to decide between me and Will. I’m falling in love with you, Tori, but I won’t play second fiddle to another man. If you and I are going to make this work, you’ll need to be on board with me a hundred percent. Understand?”

  “I understand, Drew,” Tori said. “You’ve been a saint through all this, and I promise I won’t keep you waiting much longer.”

  “That’s what I wanted to hear,” he said. “I’ll call you when I’m back, and I’ll see you again after the trial.”

  “Be safe,” Tori said, and ended the call. Drew was the perfect gentleman. She really did care for him and wanted to see where their relationship might go. But why did he have to add to the pressure on her now, at a time when she was already a bundle of anxiety?

  Slipping her phone back into her purse, she reached the fence and took her place next to her daughter. Will acknowledged her presence with a nod and a flicker of a smile. He was putting on a brave face, but Tori knew the thought of what lay ahead was tearing at his heart.

  The foals, all legs at this stage, were romping in the paddock, pushing, rearing, nipping, and galloping. It was serious play, strengthening their young bodies and building their survival skills, as well as their social skills with other horses. It was possible to see which animals, even at this young age, would be dominant later on.

  “Look, Mom! Look at Tesoro!” Erin pointed to her golden foal, racing ahead of the others. “See how fast he is! And you can already tell he’s the one in charge.”

  Tori took a moment to admire the beautiful young colt. His palomino coat gleamed in the sunlight. His creamy mane and tail fluttered in the breeze as he ran. Tesoro was going to be a magnificent stallion. But Tori still worried about her daughter owning and raising such an animal. She’d urged Will to have Tesoro gelded for Erin’s safety, but it was a lost argument. Not to breed such a valuable creature would be unthinkable, and Erin, who’d been promised the foal before he was born, would have no other.

  “Maybe I didn’t find the Spanish gold,” Erin said, “but we have a golden treasure right here, don’t we, Daddy?”

  “We certainly do.” Will squeezed her shoulders. Lauren had told Tori about Erin’s wanting the Spanish gold to help save the ranch. Tori had resolved to wait and tell Will about that later. Right now, his emotions were raw enough.

  Will glanced down at the briefcase in Tori’s hand. “I see you’ve come on business,” he said.

  “I’m afraid so. I was hoping to go over some trial notes. If you’re busy with Erin, it can wait.”

  “No, it’s fine.” Tori could tell he was weary of the whole business. “Let’s get it over with. Erin, don’t you have schoolwork to do?”

  “A little. If I finish in time, can I go with you to check the herd?”

  “We’ll see.”

  They crossed the yard to the house, the three of them walking together with Erin in the middle. Once inside, Erin went to her room. Tori and Will settled themselves in the den with the paperwork on the coffee table between them. From the open ranch office across the hall, they could hear the sound of a ringing phone and Beau’s muffled voice as he picked up the call. The closing door cut off whatever they might have heard of his conversation.

  Tori found her reading glasses in her purse and slipped them on. She looked up to find Will watching her from his chair. His impossibly blue eyes were ringed in shadow. In all the years she’d known him, she’d never seen him look so tired.

  “Are you all right, Will?” she asked gently.

  “I’m fine, considering.” He shifted in his chair, one hand reaching up to massage the back of his neck. “I’m just so damned weary of this whole mess, Tori. All I want is to have it over and done with. The crazy thing is, if I had that night to do over, I wouldn’t have done any different. Whoever the bastard turned out to be, I couldn’t take a chance on letting him get to Erin.”

  “And I’d have done the same in your place,” Tori said. “Now let’s get to this witness list the prosecution sent me, along with the names I’ve added, like the nine-one-one dispatcher on duty that night.”

  “Carly will vouch for me,” Will said. “When I called in, I was sure I’d killed the robber.”

  “She should have a recording of the call. If I can play that, it’ll be even more powerful than her testimony.” Tori started at the top of the list. “Abner?”

  Will shook his head. “I can’t figure him out. I’ve known him since grade school and, in all that time, we’ve never exchanged an unfriendly word. But I could swear he’s out to get me. If we can find out why and use it somehow on the stand—”

  “Will.” Beau had left the office and walked into the den. “I just got a phone call you need to know about.”

  Will sighed. “I don’t suppose it was the bank calling to say they’ve changed their mind.”

  “No. It was Bob Stevens, the new syndicate manager for the Prescott Ranch. He had an interesting proposal.”

  “He wants to buy some land?”

  “Not land. It seems Bob has a wealthy friend in San Antonio with a passion for palomino horses. They were talking, and Bob happened to mention that we had a palomino foal with a lot of promise. The man wants to fly out and look at Tesoro. He said that if the foal’s everything he expects, he’ll offer you seventy-five thousand for him. Throw in his mother, and he’ll make it an even hundred thousand. That would be enough to pay off the bank loan and save the ranch.”

  Tori sat silent, her eyes on Will. She could imagine what was going through his mind. This was a way out, a way to keep the Rimrock intact and honor the family tradition that no part of it should be sold.

  All he had to do was break his daughter’s heart.

  CHAPTER 11

  Mouth set in a flat line, Will rose from the chair, walked out of the room and down the hall. He knew Beau was waiting for some kind of response, but he had none to give him. Right now, what drove him was the need to be alone.

  Entering the ranch office, he closed the door behind him, raised the Venetian blind that shaded the wide window, and stood looking out across the ranch yard toward the barns, then to the paddock, where the foals were still romping. Even at a distance Tesoro’s coat shone like a polished gold coin in the sunlight.

  Beyond the paddock the rolling hills of the pastureland rose to meet the crags of the escarpment. In the pitiless blue sky, a lone vulture circled on outstretched wings.

  Will had lived his entire life for the Rimrock. From the time he was old enough to shovel his first forkful of hay, he had tak
en care of the land and the animals. He had labored till his hands bled, sacrificed a college education and any chance he might’ve had to see the world—and he’d lost the only woman he’d ever loved when he’d been forced to choose between her and this ranch.

  Now it had fallen to him again, the duty to keep the Rimrock whole—but not without another agonizing choice.

  Selling Erin’s beloved foal and the mare, plus some interest they could pay out of pocket, would clear them with the bank, keep their credit in good standing, and save the acreage that would otherwise be lost. But Erin would be heartbroken. She would never trust him again. Worse, she would learn from this that honor was an illusion, and any promise could be broken on a whim.

  Turning away from the window, he studied his father’s picture, where it hung on the wall. Even in the black-and-white photograph, Bull had the look of a man who never gave in, never gave up, and never stepped aside.

  What would you have done, Dad? Will asked silently, as he often did when faced with a tough decision. How would you have handled this in my place?

  But this time, Will realized, he already knew the answer. To the Bull Tyler whom Will remembered, the land had been more important than love and family, more important than life itself. A horse and a child’s tears would have meant nothing to him. For all Will knew, Bull would have sold his entire family down the river for the sake of this ranch. In a way he almost had.

  Gazing at that face, Will felt a sudden flash of understanding. All his life he’d tried to measure up to his father and had failed. And now he knew why.

  I’m not you, Dad, he said, continuing the silent conversation. I may look like you, maybe even talk and act like you sometimes. But I’m not you, and I’m not going to make the decision you would have made. I’m not going to destroy my daughter’s happiness for a piece of earth that has no mind, no heart, and no memory. If you don’t like it, fine. When I get there, we’ll settle our differences in hell.

  Decision made, he opened the office door and walked back into the den. Beau was standing by the bar. He’d opened a beer from the miniature fridge. His grip tightened around the can as Will appeared. “Well?” he asked.