Texas Free

by Janet Dailey

  Bull hung up the phone. At least Rose was in a safe place. But the rest of what he’d heard was bad news. If Cabrera had taken the risk of crossing the border and coming this far, he wouldn’t go back without taking his revenge. Rose was in even more danger than he’d realized.

  He glanced at the clock. Bernice and the boys were usually back by this time. What could be keeping them?

  Jasper had been waiting on the porch. Now he walked into the house, a stricken look on his face. “You need to see this, Bull,” he said. “Come on outside.”

  Bull followed Jasper back onto the porch. Jasper pointed in the direction of Rose’s property, where a thick, black column of smoke was rising into the sky.

  Bull swore. “That would be the trailer and probably the truck, and maybe the blasted chickens, too.”

  “Rose will be heartsick,” Jasper said. “But at least she isn’t there.”

  “Damn,” Bull muttered. “I’d like to get those bastards in my sights and blast them off the face of the earth.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s past time for Bernice to be back with the boys. I’m going to drive out to the bus stop and see what’s holding them up. You stay here and listen for the phone.”

  “I’ll be right here.” Jasper was still gazing at the distant smoke.

  Bull climbed into the truck, turned around, and headed down the gravel lane that intersected with the highway to town. The bus stop wasn’t more than ten minutes away. Maybe the bus had had some kind of engine trouble. If Cabrera and his buddies were still at large tomorrow, he would have Bernice keep the boys at home. Better safe than sorry.

  The bus stop was just ahead. Bull slowed the truck, eyes scanning the empty corner. No bus. No Bernice. And no sign of his sons.

  He drove closer, his hands gripping the wheel in a frenzy of disbelief. An instant later, he spotted Bernice’s brown station wagon. It lay in the deep bar ditch, where it had rolled partway onto its side.

  Heart in his throat, Bull slammed on the brakes, leaped out of the truck, and half slid down the grassy slope.

  The station wagon was empty.

  * * *

  From the safety of the ranger post, Rose had heard the sirens that summoned the volunteer fire department. The first thing she thought of was her property. If Refugio had looked for her there and found her gone, it would be like him to torch everything.

  Tanner, standing behind her chair, seemed to read her thoughts. He rested a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t know it’s your place,” he said. “It could be anything.”

  “I know.” She touched his hand. Her home was burning—she could feel it. And whoever had set the fire would be long gone by the time anyone else got there.

  Tanner had told her that Raul and Joaquin were dead. She shouldn’t be sorry. They had been like family, and they had betrayed her in the coldest way imaginable. But she would always remember them laughing, joking with her, teaching her how to ride and herd sheep. They had been good men once, but the cartel, and the lure of money, had changed them.

  Rose gazed at the silent phone on the desk, willing it to ring with good news. She thought of her friends on the Rimrock—Bull, Jasper, Bernice, and the boys. They could be in danger, too. She could only hope to hear that they were safe. But the phone remained silent, leaving her in the hellish limbo of not knowing.

  * * *

  Bull burst in through the front door, wild-eyed and out of breath. Jasper watched him struggle to bring himself under control. “Any word?” he asked.

  Jasper shook his head. Even before Bull could say more, Jasper guessed what had happened.

  “They’re gone—Bernice and the boys. I found Bernice’s car pushed off the road. Nobody in it. Give me the phone. I’ve got to call the sheriff.”

  Sick with fear for his sister and the children, Jasper forced himself to stay calm. He dialed the sheriff’s number before handing the receiver to Bull. It was the female dispatcher who answered.

  “Get word to the sheriff.” Bull’s tightly reined voice hid his anguish. “The Cartel’s taken Bernice and my two sons. If anybody sees the vehicle, be aware that they have hostages, so nobody can go in shooting. Get the word out! And, for God’s sake, get some help! Call the FBI! Call anybody!”

  Bull slammed down the phone. “Damn it,” he stormed, “why can’t they find those monsters? They’ve got a vehicle description—unless they’ve stolen a different one. Maybe I ought to go after them myself.”

  “You know better than that,” Jasper said. “You need to be here in case somebody calls.” And Jasper knew that somebody would. He knew exactly why Bernice and the boys had been taken. But there was no point in mentioning it to Bull. He would figure it out soon enough.

  Bull stared out the window as the sun sank toward the escarpment. “It’ll be dark before long,” he said. “Then the bastards will be even harder to track. How can I just stand here and do nothing?”

  Just then the phone rang. Bull jumped to answer it. He listened, said a few words, and hung up before he relayed the message to Jasper.

  “The highway patrol picked up Bernice. She’s all right except for some scrapes and a sprained wrist from being shoved out on the road. Cabrera gave her a message to deliver. He said that if the cops didn’t back off, he’d kill one of the boys. I’m to wait for his call—it’ll come later, when he’s ready.”

  “Where’s Bernice now?” Jasper asked.

  “A medic’s checking her over. Then one of the cops will bring her here and stay to monitor any phone calls. But you know that drug lord is too smart to let his calls be traced.” Bull cursed again. “Damn it, I just want my boys back. I’ll give Cabrera every cent I’ve got. All of it!”

  Jasper met his eyes with a calm gaze. “Bull, Cabrera doesn’t need your money,” he said. “There’s only one thing he wants, and you know what it is.”

  * * *

  Half an hour later a young deputy came in with Bernice. Her cheek and hands were skinned, her wrist in a brace. Her eyes were red and swollen from weeping. “Bull, if I could have done anything to stop them—Lord help me, I would have died for those boys.”

  “I know, Bernice. This isn’t your fault,” Bull said, and it wasn’t. He was the one who should have realized what Raul and Joaquin were and taken care of them while he had the chance.

  Jasper led his sister to a chair and brought her some coffee. She looked as if she belonged in bed, but it was a given that she’d want to be here, helping any way she could.

  “How were the boys?” Bull asked her.

  “Scared and quiet. As far as I know, they weren’t hurt. They weren’t crying.” Tears welled again. She wadded the tissue in her hands and dabbed at her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

  The young deputy appeared unsure of what to do. Jasper found him a chair and brought him some coffee. Then they waited.

  * * *

  It was getting dark when the call came. Nerves screaming, Bull picked up the receiver.

  “This is Bull Tyler.”

  “Mr. Tyler. It is a pleasure. This is Refugio Cabrera.” He spoke good English but with a heavy accent. Bull put the phone on speaker. “You have fine sons. They have been very brave.”

  “Can I talk to them?”

  “Not just now. But I assure you, they are fine. We haven’t harmed a hair on their little heads. Give me what I want and they can be back in their beds tonight. Otherwise . . . But we will not talk about that now.”

  “So tell me what you want, Cabrera.”

  “I think you know.” The voice deepened, roughened. “I want Rose Landro, the bitch who murdered my brother in cold blood. Turn her over to me, and your sons will go free.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  Cabrera’s chuckle was the most evil sound Bull had ever heard. “If the wait is too long, we start with fingers, one by one, then maybe ears, and then . . . But I am sure you get the picture.”

  Bull battled nauseating fear. No doubt Cabrera would do what he said and more. “She isn’t here. If
I can bring her, tell me where and when.”

  “No if. Not if you want your sons back alive. There is an old barn on a back road south of the town, with a dead tree outside. Do you know it?”

  “I know it. It’s the old Gunther place.”

  “Seven forty-five. One vehicle, just you and the woman. No tricks and no police, or your boys will die. All I want is the bitch who killed Lucho.” The call ended with a click.

  The four people in the room stared at one another, all of them knowing what had to happen next. “I’ll do it,” Bull said. “I’ll call Rose.”

  * * *

  When the phone rang, it was Tanner who took the call. “Bull, is there any news?” he asked, then paused and handed the receiver to Rose. “Bull wants to talk to you,” he said.

  “I’m here, Bull,” she said.

  Rose could hear the strain in his voice. “Cabrera has my boys. We’re meeting them at the old Gunther place at seven forty-five.”

  The icy grip of terror closed around Rose’s heart. She fought against it, knowing what had to be done and that only she could do it. Nothing could be allowed to happen to Bull’s precious sons. If she had to go to Refugio, that’s what she would do.

  “I’ll meet you at the ranch in a few minutes.” Rose hung up the phone. Bull hadn’t asked it of her, but he didn’t have to. It had to be done. She could only say a silent prayer for courage.

  Turning to Tanner, she forced herself to speak calmly. “I have to go to the Rimrock right now,” she said. “Can I take your truck?”

  “I’ll drive you,” Tanner said. “What’s happening?”

  “I’ll tell you on the way.” She raced for the door, fearing that if he knew, he might try to stop her.

  “Can I do anything to help?” Joe asked as Tanner followed her.

  “This isn’t your fight, Joe,” Tanner said. “Take care of the place.”

  They climbed into his truck. “What is it?” Tanner asked.

  “Just drive,” Rose said.

  “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

  “Just go. We can talk on the way.”

  He pulled into the street and headed back through town. Rose could tell he was getting impatient. But what would she do if he stopped the truck and refused to take her to the Rimrock?

  “Rose?”

  She took a deep breath. “Refugio Cabrera has Bull’s sons. He’s demanding to trade them for me or he’ll kill them.”

  His mouth tightened. A muscle twitched in his jaw. Several seconds passed before he spoke. “We can’t just let them take you,” he said. “We’ll need a way to fight them.”

  I should never have doubted him, Rose thought. He was with her all the way. “Not until the boys are safe,” she said. “Agreed?”

  “Agreed. I’ve got my .38 under the seat. I could go in after them once the boys are out.”

  Suddenly she was afraid for him. “Cabrera and his men will be armed to the teeth. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Blast it, Rose, I’d rather die with you than have to live without you.”

  She pressed her head against his shoulder. “I think that’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever said to me. We’ll talk to Bull. He might have some ideas. But we won’t have much time.”

  She was doing her best to sound brave. But Refugio Cabrera was the central figure in her nightmares, a tall, handsome monster capable of unspeakable acts. Even the thought of him triggered waves of sickening fear.

  “I told you a story about how I gunned down a serial killer in a standoff by circling around the back of a cabin,” Tanner said. “I could try it again.”

  “It won’t be that easy,” Rose said. “This time there’ll be three of them. But I could hide a weapon on me—a knife or a gun. I’ve been a scrapper all my life, Tanner. I don’t go down easy.”

  They had turned off the highway onto the gravel lane. At the end of it, they could see the lights of the Rimrock. Bull strode outside to meet them as they pulled up to the house. Wordless, he gripped Rose’s hands hard enough to hurt.

  “Let’s do this,” she said, showing him her brave face. “Let’s get your boys back.”

  “I’m going with you,” Tanner said.

  “You’re sure?” Bull looked at Tanner as if taking his measure. Earlier Tanner had changed his white shirt for a dark blue, long-sleeved tee. Before getting out of the pickup, he’d taken his pistol and thrust it into his belt.

  “There’s no way you’re leaving me behind,” Tanner said.

  “Then you’ll have to get out of the truck early,” Bull said. “Cabrera’s expecting two of us.”

  “I’ll need a weapon I can hide,” Rose said. “A switchblade would do if you’ve got one.”

  “There’s one in my truck,” Bull said. “Can we agree on a plan?”

  “You get the boys out. I’ll get Rose out,” Tanner said. “That’s about as much plan as we can manage.”

  Bull checked his watch. “We’ve got fifteen minutes. That’s about what it’ll take us to get there.”

  “Where are the cops?” Tanner asked.

  “None close by. The police will have roadblocks on the routes out of town, but the Cabreras will anticipate that. I guarantee they’ll have a trick or two up their sleeves.”

  They climbed into the truck with Rose between the two men. Bull found the switchblade knife in the glove box. Rose’s fingers shook as she slipped it under her jeans. Would she live through the next hour? Would Tanner? She couldn’t think about that now. Nothing could be allowed to matter except the lives of two innocent children.

  Bull carried guns in his truck, the 12-gauge double-barreled shotgun Rose had given him and the heavy .44 pistol he favored. But he would have to appear unarmed before the Cabreras. His only chance to use them would be to keep them within easy reach until after his sons were safe. Where he sat, touching her, Rose could feel the tension in his body, and she knew he was afraid, not for himself but for his boys.

  The Gunther farm, deserted years ago when the well went dry and the owners went broke, lay at the end of a rutted road beyond the outskirts of Blanco Springs. The house had been burned by vandals, but the barn, with its rotting timbers and dilapidated wood siding, still stood, along with what was left of the corral. The yard was overgrown with weeds.

  Bull drove without headlights, the road just visible in the twilight. Ahead, through the murk, they could see the looming outline of the barn. With the dome light switched off, he slowed the truck just enough for Tanner to bail out onto the side of the road. Rose watched him vanish into the darkness, keeping low and moving from shadow to shadow.

  The barn was dark, with no sign of movement. “What if they’re not here?” Rose whispered, her pulse racing.

  Bull glanced at the clock on the dash. “It’s seven forty-five. They’re here.” He pulled up a dozen yards from the barn. “You stay in the truck for now.”

  Leaving the keys in the ignition, he laid his guns across the seat and climbed out of the truck. The beam of a flashlight flickered on in the doorway of the barn. Rose froze as the light found her through the windshield, lingering on her face.

  “Cabrera, show me my sons.” Bull’s voice was firm, but Rose could imagine the gut-wrenching fear he must be feeling.

  “First, show me you’re not packing a weapon. Turn around and raise your arms.”

  Bull did as he was told. “My sons!” he thundered. “Now!”

  “They are right here.” Refugio’s voice sent chills through Rose’s body. But when the light shone on the two boys, each in the grip of an armed man, she took a breath of relief. At least Will and Beau were alive and appeared unharmed.

  “Now, the woman,” Refugio said. “Bring her out, we make the trade, and you can take your boys home.”

  Rose glanced down at the weapons Bull had left on the seat. She could take one of the guns, and . . . But what was she thinking? If she tried to save herself, Bull’s sons would be the first to die.

  Before Bull cou
ld come for her, she opened the door and slipped to the ground. “I’m coming, Refugio, you pig,” she called. “Let the boys go.”

  A coldness crept over her as she walked forward.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  TANNER WAS PARTWAY AROUND THE SIDE OF THE BARN WHEN HE heard Rose’s defiant shout to Refugio Cabrera. Fueled by her courage, he pushed through the thick growth of weeds toward the back corner of the barn. He had to be there for her. And he had to be ready to strike as soon as he knew the boys were safe.

  This was his first time on the Gunther property, which put him at a disadvantage. His plan to ambush Cabrera and his thugs from behind would work only if he had some kind of opening. So far he had no idea what he would find when he reached the back of the barn.

  Training had taught him that it was safest to assume there might be a lookout. He kept low, screened by the tall weeds. Thistles clawed at his clothes. A sharp briar gouged his cheek, drawing a trickle of blood. He kept going.

  The big four-wheeler had to figure into the equation. Since he couldn’t see it outside, he had to assume the vehicle was in the barn. In a gunfight, it could provide cover for the cartel thugs or for him. He wouldn’t know which until he got inside. And even then it would be too dark to see much.

  Did Cabrera plan to kill Rose right here or take her back to Mexico and prolong the torment? There was no way to know. All he could do was try to get her out of that barn and to safety as fast as possible.

  He reached the back of the old barn and swore under his breath. No opening, not even a window. But the boards that formed the siding had weathered over long years. They were so thin that he could see the flicker of a flashlight and hear voices through the cracks. When the time came, he would have to break through, most likely with a solid kick. And when he started shooting, he would have to make sure he didn’t hit Rose.

  Sweating, he tested a board with his finger. It yielded to the pressure. If he could smash his way through, it would give him the advantage of surprise. If not . . . But that was just one more unknown he was dealing with. The only certainty was that whatever the cost, he had to get Rose out of there alive.