by Janet Dailey
Forcing the useless thought away, she’d reached down and managed to unsnap his jeans and slide his zipper open. There was nothing underneath but him, soft baby skin over tempered steel. Instinctively her fingers had circled his shaft. He’d groaned, his body stiffening as they tightened.
“Natalie—”
“Yes.” The word had hissed between her lips. “Yes, Beau.”
He was breathing hard now, muttering little curses under his breath as he fumbled with her shorts, gave up on the fastener, and simply yanked them off her hips. No experienced boy would have been so flustered. She’d loved him all the more for that.
Panting like a long-distance runner, he’d found her entrance, hesitated an instant, then shoved in. Slick as she was, she’d barely felt the brief tearing of her membranes. The pain was nothing compared to the thrill of feeling him inside her, moving, thrusting, both of them reeling in a world of new sensations.
Natalie swung the SUV onto the main highway to town. Her relationship with Beau had been over a long time ago, she reminded herself. They’d been two foolish children back then, crossing forbidden boundaries and making promises they could never keep. He had a different life now, in a different place. She had a husband, and she was on her way home to him. Nothing else was real anymore. Nothing else could be allowed to matter.
She would never see Beau Tyler again.
By the time she turned into the driveway and raised the garage door, it was all she could do to keep her eyes open. Slade’s pickup was parked in its spot. Good. He’d made it safely home. With luck he’d be asleep. She could collapse onto her side of the bed and pass out till morning.
Closing the garage, she entered the house through the doorway that connected to the kitchen. The 15-watt light above the stove was on, casting the room into dim shadow. Slade was sitting at the kitchen table, a can of his favorite lager in one hand.
“It’s about time you got home.” His gritty voice oozed sarcasm. “Want to tell me where you’ve been?”
Please, not tonight. Stifling a groan, Natalie dropped her medical bag on a chair. “I was at the Lindfords. Didn’t you see the note I left you?”
“Oh, I saw it, all right,” he drawled. “The question is, was it true?”
“What kind of silly game are you playing, Slade?” Natalie was too tired to be patient. “I was at the Lindfords’ place for hours. Their mare was having twins. It was touch and go the whole time. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m exhausted. I’m going to bed.” She spun away, heading down the hall toward the bedroom.
“Not so fast, you lying bitch.”
His words stopped her like a brick wall. Slade had a nasty streak of temper, but he’d never used those words with her before. Steeling herself against the hurt, she turned slowly back to face him. She hadn’t done anything to deserve this, and she didn’t have to take it.
Every word she spoke felt chiseled out of ice. “Don’t you ever call me that again. I’m not lying. I’ve been working all night.”
His fist crushed the empty beer can and tossed it toward the trash. Missing the mark, it clattered across the linoleum. “You expect me to believe you haven’t been with Beau Tyler?”
His question sucked the air out of her. She struggled for breath. “What’s the matter with you? Beau’s gone. He left for Washington three days ago.”
“That’s not what I heard.” Slade folded his arms across his muscular chest, looking so smug that she wanted to fly at him and claw the smirk off his face. “A friend told me he stuck around to help with the roundup. Maybe he stuck around for a little bit of something else, too. What’ve you got to say about that?”
Natalie felt herself crumbling. Blinking away furious tears, she held herself rigidly erect. She couldn’t let him see how his news had affected her.
“Even if I had known, it wouldn’t have made any difference. I was at the Lindfords’. If you don’t believe me, call and ask them. Make up some excuse—like maybe I lost my watch and want to know if they found it. Or maybe I’m not back yet, and you’re worried. Right now I’m so tired I don’t care what you do—or what you believe. If you have anything left to say, we can talk in the morning.”
She turned away and headed down the hall, praying he wouldn’t follow her. She didn’t want to make up. She didn’t even want to be touched. All she wanted was to be left alone.
“I’m going downstairs to watch wrestling,” he called after her, and she almost melted with relief. “But hear this, lady. Nobody lays a hand on my wife. If that bastard Tyler comes anywhere near you, so help me, I’ll kill him!”
On Sundays, when Tori came to pick up her daughter, she was expected to stay for dinner. Awkward as it sometimes felt, she tolerated the time-honored custom because it gave Erin a sense of family. It also helped Tori keep abreast of happenings on the ranch. Anything that might affect Erin was a concern to her.
Tonight the main dish was roast wild turkey, which Jasper had shot from the ATV he used to get around the ranch. The old man might not be able to ride a horse anymore, but his distance vision was still good and he could handle a gun with the best.
Over the years, the line between the Tylers and their longtime staff had faded. Jasper, as usual, had joined them at the table. Bernice, too, would take her place once the food was served. Sometimes Sky dined with them, but mostly he seemed to be busy elsewhere. Or maybe it was just that he preferred a peaceful meal in his side of the brick duplex he shared with Jasper. Conversations at the Tylers’ table could get pretty dramatic.
Since it was a family occasion, they joined hands while Jasper said grace. As he rambled on, Tori caught herself peering at the circle of familiar faces from beneath her half-lowered eyelashes.
Erin’s freshly scrubbed features revealed glimpses of the beautiful woman she would become one day. And her body . . . Tori felt a gnawing panic as she realized her daughter’s little breasts were already budding beneath her pink T-shirt. When had that happened? It was time to shop for a training bra.
Jasper and Bernice were getting older, too. Now that Bull was gone, they were the only remaining links to the past, the keepers of memory and the keepers of secrets. More secrets, Tori sensed, than anyone in the family suspected.
Wise, cynical Beau, he was the closest thing to a brother that Tori, an only child, had ever known.
In their teen years, he’d been her confidant, her shoulder to cry on when Will ignored her. Then Natalie had come along. Tori had once believed that Natalie and Beau would live happily ever after. But sad experience had taught her that fairy-tale endings were just that—fairy tales.
Which brought her furtive gaze to Will.
A familiar ache stirred in Tori’s throat as she studied him, head bowed, eyes closed. He looked tired, she thought. The creases had deepened at the corners of his eyes, and his dark hair had taken on a sheen of silver. He was only thirty-nine, but since Bull’s accident, and especially now, following Bull’s death, Will’s duties as head of the ranch family weighed heavily on him.
Tori wasn’t surprised that he was still single. He was married to the ranch; he always had been.
“Amen,” Jasper rumbled.
With a murmured “Amen” and a whoosh of relief, Erin reached for the basket of Bernice’s fresh, hot rolls, took one, and passed it on. Soon plates were filled with turkey, stuffing, potatoes and gravy, buttered carrots, and fresh green salad.
“Well, Tori, what do you think of Erin’s new foal?” Bernice asked, making conversation.
“He’s a beautiful little thing,” Tori said. “But I’m aware of the gelding issue, and frankly, I’m uneasy about Erin raising a stud, especially for her first horse.”
“Oh, Mom, I’ll be fine!” Erin speared a second hot roll. “Sky’s helping me train him. Tesoro already knows my smell and my voice. Anyway, I like the idea of having my very own stallion. It’ll be cool.”
“It won’t be cool if he hurts you.” Tori glanced across the table at Will. “There are other pregnant
mares out there. Why not let her choose a different foal?”
“No, Mom!” Erin’s fork clattered to her plate. “Daddy promised me Tesoro! He’s already mine and I won’t give him up!”
“Give it time, Tori.” Beau had always been the peacemaker. “That foal has a lot of growing up to do, and so does Erin. For now they’ll be fine together. Later on, if he shows signs of being hard to handle, we can decide what to do.”
“Beau’s right, Tori,” Will said. “I know you’re worried. I was, too, but I’ve thought it over. I did promise Erin the foal, and she’s already attached to him. Nothing’s going to happen while he’s little.”
“So now you’re ganging up on me. Three against one.” The look Tori gave Will expressed more than words. She’d surrendered the battle but not the war. When it came to her daughter’s safety, there was no middle ground. She’d castrate that colt herself—or shoot him if she had to—before she’d let any harm come to Erin.
A strained silence fell over the table. Knowing she’d caused it, Tori smiled and deftly changed the subject. “So I’ve heard rumors that you’ll be sticking around, Beau.”
He shrugged, looking a bit uncomfortable. “Till the roundup’s over, at least. But I’m only on leave from work. I haven’t quit.”
“You might as well hand in your notice tomorrow.” Will carved a slice off the turkey roast and laid it on his plate. “You know you’ll end up staying.”
“We’ll see.”
“What’s to decide? You belong here. We need you. Enough said. Anybody else want more turkey?” He carved three more slices and left them on the platter. The silence had descended once more. Tori could feel the tension between the two brothers creeping upward like the red line on a pressure gauge. Was it about to explode?
Bernice, ever the wise one, rolled her eyes and gazed up at the brass chandelier that hung over the dining room table. Her round, rosy face was a mask of innocence. “My, hasn’t it been a lovely day,” she said. “Do you think it’s too early to put out the tomato plants?”
Lute sat at a table in the Blue Coyote, sipping a Corona and feeling like a man. He’d been half afraid to believe the fifty-dollar payment from Slade would be there. But when he’d worked up the nerve to approach Stella, she’d given him a friendly smile and handed him a plain white envelope. Inside he’d found the cash—two twenties and a ten.
He’d planned on saving most of it for the down payment on a car. But his first paycheck from the ranch wouldn’t be coming in for another week, and this was like found money. It was a real treat, just sitting here with a decent beer in his hand and cash in his pocket.
It was a quiet night, even for a Wednesday. There were no more than a half dozen customers in the place. Lute’s gaze followed Jess as she wandered among the tables, keeping the patrons happy. She looked pretty tonight, he thought. Her clean, shiny hair curled around her thin shoulders, softening the sharp lines of her face. Her jeans were stylishly ripped—distressed, was that what they called it? Through the thready holes, glints of tanned skin triggered a light, pleasant buzz of arousal. And she was wearing those little pink boots he found so hot.
“Hi.” She paused at his table. “Can I get you anything else?”
“Maybe.” He remembered how Slade had talked to her. “What time do you get off tonight?”
Her gaze flickered. “About ten. We close early on weeknights.”
Lute did a quick mental calculation. Ralph wouldn’t be picking him up till midnight, so he’d have some leeway. “Want to share a pizza? If we hurry, we can get it before Burger Shack closes at ten-thirty. I can order ahead if I know what kind you like.”
Her eyes lit in a surprising way. “You’re asking me out on a date?”
“Just pizza. It’ll be too late for a movie. We can do that another time—I mean, if you want to.” Lute felt like a tongue-tied teenager. He’d never had much luck, let alone much experience, with girls, though he’d had sex once with a girl in his high school class who’d do it with anybody for twenty bucks.
But Jess was different. She was pretty and sweet in a way that made him want to do something nice for her, like take her out for pizza. Maybe when he got money and a car, she’d spend more time with him. He’d enjoy being seen with a good-looking girl. “So how about it?” he asked. “Want to go?”
“Sure.” She gave him a shy smile. “And I like Hawaiian.”
Jess watched the red lights fade as the rusty pickup vanished down the street. Turning away, she climbed the back stairs to her room above the Blue Coyote. It had been nice, sharing a pizza with young Lute. He reminded her of her kid brother, who’d died six years ago in a motorcycle accident. And he’d treated her like a lady, as if he didn’t know what she really was. It was almost like being in high school again. But she’d come a long way since high school—mostly in the wrong direction. She was long overdue for a change.
She’d sold Slade’s high-grade cocaine to a dealer she knew. Once she might have snorted it herself, but now she needed the money even more than she craved the high. She had to get out of this place, away from the people who were dragging her down.
She’d weighed the wisdom of warning Lute about Slade, then decided the risk was too great. Lute was already under the man’s spell. If he went to Slade with what she’d told him, it could be all over for her.
She already knew too much.
Slade’s trucking business was done on contract, with vehicles for freight, produce, livestock, hay, and feed. He employed three local drivers who, as far as Jess knew, carried legitimate cargo. But it was Slade who made the runs to Mexico, hauling baled Texas hay to a ranch two hundred miles south of Piedras Negras.
She’d already known he got the drugs through his Mexican connection. But it was by pure chance she’d discovered what was under the hay. Three nights ago, Slade had stopped by for a quickie on his way out of town. Since the bar was still open and her room was directly above the thin ceiling, they’d done their business on a blanket laid over the hay in the back of the closed truck. Jess was rearranging herself when she discovered she was missing a favorite earring. When she couldn’t find it on the blanket, she reached down between the hay bales. Her groping fingers contacted cold, smooth metal in the unmistakable shape of a gun barrel. She felt another, then another.
Slade had climbed out of the truck to let her finish putting herself back together, but he suddenly appeared below the partly raised door. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he’d growled.
His vehemence had scared her. When she’d stammered that she was looking for her earring, he’d seized her arm and yanked her roughly out of the truck. “I’ll buy you more damned earrings,” he’d growled. “Now get back in the bar and do your job.”
His tires had spat gravel as he roared out of the parking lot. Jess hadn’t seen him since, but her instincts told her Slade was dangerous.
She’d been saving money, planning to eventually leave and make a new start somewhere else. But something inside told her that she had to leave now—tonight.
There was less than a thousand dollars stashed away in her mattress. It wouldn’t get her far, but Slade would be back in the next day or two. If he found out she had discovered the guns he was smuggling into Mexico, anything could happen.
Opening the door of her grubby little room, she dragged her backpack out from under the bed and began stuffing it with the few things she could carry. She could only hope somebody on the road would give her a ride out of town, to someplace where she could buy a bus ticket.
Time was running out.
CHAPTER 5
As the sun continued its climb in the morning sky, inching ever closer to its apex, Beau could feel the warmth of its rays on his back. After nearly nine days in the saddle, he had managed to work all the stiffness out of his muscles.
Slowly he walked the close-coupled roan nearer to the milling knot of steers. The minute he spotted the unmarked yearling bull that had eluded last fall’s roundup, he sw
ung the roan into the herd, intent on separating the yearling from the rest.
As if knowing it was destined to be branded, tagged, and relieved of its cojones, the young Hereford bull made a dash for a clump of nearby mesquite. The cow-savvy roan seemed to anticipate the escape attempt, simultaneously lunging forward to block its path.
After that, Beau had only to sit easy in the saddle and let the well-trained cow pony do his job. With catlike agility, the roan gelding cut off the yearling’s dash to freedom and turned it back toward the herd. The young bull made a show of returning, then attempted another break. The roan thwarted it with ease.
Spider Jones, one of Rimrock’s younger cowhands, joined up with Beau and together they herded the animal to the chutes. Once the gate clanged shut behind it, Beau leaned forward in the saddle to stroke the roan’s damp neck, offering low praise. “If that had been a cutting contest, you would have won us some money.”
Spider Jones swung his horse alongside Beau. Together they jogged their horses back to the gather. “Nice work. But that’s what I like about working for Rimrock. You’ve got good horses here.”
“That we do,” Beau agreed, well aware that the bulk of the credit for them belonged to Sky and his skill in training.
“I was wondering . . . ,” Spider began, then hesitated and started over, his uncertain blue eyes darting a glance at Beau. “We’ve probably got only a few more days of roundup before we’re finished. Me and a couple of the other boys plan on going into Lubbock to celebrate. There’s a club there that has a room upstairs where a fella can go to get that manly itch scratched . . . if you know what I mean. You’re welcome to join us. If you like,” he added, suddenly uneasy, as if he was worried that, by inviting one of the new owners, he had violated some unwritten rule.
“Sounds like the go-to place for a good time.” Beau deliberately let the young cowboy believe he might accompany them. But as far as he was concerned, there was only one woman he wanted to scratch his itch, and she wasn’t in Lubbock.