Texas Tall (3 page)

Will had no doubt that
someone
was Tori.

He and Tori had been wildly in love when they'd married. But here on the ranch, their marriage had degenerated into a tug-of-war between Tori and Bull, with Will caught in the middle. Things had gone from bad to worse until the awful week that had torn them apart for good.

Had Tori been trying to save her friend Natalie from the same fate?

As if the thought could summon her, Will saw Tori's brown station wagon approaching up the long gravel drive. His spirits lightened as he glimpsed Erin in the passenger seat. He was glad Tori had brought her. Having his daughter here would go a long way toward salvaging the weekend.

As the station wagon pulled up to the house and stopped, Erin climbed out the door and bounded up the steps to give Will a quick hug. Will fought the urge just to hold her tight and not let go. He'd been so scared for her last night. But it wouldn't help to let her know that. Just let her be happy. Let everything be normal.

“Can I go see Tesoro?” she asked.

“Sure. Sky should be in the barn. Make sure he's close by.” Erin's beloved palomino foal was almost six months old. By now, he'd reached 85 percent of his mature height, but only half his mature weight. He was all legs and spunk. Erin had worked with Sky to train and gentle him, but the spirited young colt was big enough to be rambunctious. Will worried about his precious daughter being hurt by an accidental kick or shove.

He watched her race across the yard to the barn, all sunshine. But as she stepped out of the vehicle, her mother's expression cast a shadow over the morning. Tori wasn't happy, and Will was about to find out why.

She looked up at him, where he stood on the porch. “We need to talk, Will,” she said.

Jasper took his cue. “I think I hear Bernice in the kitchen,” he said, pushing to his feet. “Maybe I'll go see what she's fixin' for breakfast.”

As he headed inside, the dog at his heels, Tori came up onto the porch. She was dressed in jeans and a dark green sweater, her long, honey-blond hair brushed back from a face that was freshly washed and bare of the makeup she usually wore. Seeing her like that reminded Will of mornings on the ranch, waking up and seeing that beautiful, unadorned face on the pillow beside him. But why was he thinking about that now—especially since the new man in her life might already be seeing her in the same way.

“Want some coffee?” he asked her, determined to be civil.

“No thanks.” She took the chair where Jasper had been sitting.

“Thanks for bringing Erin,” he said.

“She wanted to see her foal. Then I'm taking her back to town with me.”

“You can't do that.” Will's nerves, already raw, caused him to snap at her. “I get her on weekends, Tori. We signed the damned papers.”

“I know.” She was maddeningly calm. “But Erin's welfare comes first. And after what happened last night, I don't think she's ready to be out here with you.”

“What's the problem?” Will glanced toward the barn, where Erin had already disappeared. “I saw her. I talked with her. She seemed right as rain.”

Tori's jaw tightened. “Will, you killed a man last night. Erin saw it happen.”

The shock hit Will like a lightning bolt. His first reaction was denial. “No. She was down on the floor of the truck. Honest to God, Tori, I made her get down so he wouldn't see her.”

“Erin's twelve years old. How could she not look? She told me what she saw.”

“But she seemed fine this morning. Was she upset?”

“Last night? Very. She's putting on an act for you today.”

“Lord.” Will raked a hand through his hair. “To have her see me pull that trigger, see that man die—I wouldn't have done that to Erin for the world!”

“There's more.” Tori was sitting straight on the edge of her chair, hands clasped on her knees. “Abner Sweeney called me after we got home last night. He wants to question her today. According to him, you swore she didn't see anything.”

“That's right. What did you tell him?”

“Nothing. I'm guessing her account will back up yours. We certainly can't ask Erin to lie. But you sent her away last night before the sheriff got there. And you claimed she hadn't seen the shooting. By the wrong people, that could be interpreted as obstruction of justice.”

“Justice!”
Will exploded out of his chair. “What
justice?
I killed the man in self-defense!”

A thought line deepened between Tori's eyebrows. “That's one way of looking at it. But you shot a man who'd just surrendered his gun, a man who hadn't yet attacked you with his knife. In a different light, that could be construed as manslaughter, or worse.”

The implication made Will's gut clench. He paced to the top of the porch steps and turned back to face his ex-wife. “Did Abner tell you the man was somebody we knew?”

Tori shook her head as if to say,
How could this mess get any worse?

“It was Stella Rawlins's brother, Nick.”

“The bartender.” It wasn't a question. Tori's face had gone pale. “Will, you know what that woman's capable of. The rumor is, she's got mob connections. And even without them, she could hurt you. Worse, she could hurt Erin.”

“Or even you—anything to make me suffer for killing her brother.” Will allowed himself a deep breath. He'd taken enough hits this morning. It was time to take charge of the situation. “For now, this is what we're going to do. Erin will be safer here on the ranch than in town with you. We can call the teacher and arrange for her to do her schoolwork on the computer. If you're concerned about leaving her, you can stay here, too. Beau's old room's available, and except when you need to be in court, you can do most of your work from the ranch office.”

She started to protest. “Blast it, Will, you can't just dictate—”

He cut her off. “Why not? If you think Erin needs you, what's wrong with your staying here? Are you afraid it might interfere with your love life?”

Tori's blistering glare told Will he'd overstepped. But at least the issue was in the open now. He braced himself as she rose, quivering with fury. “You don't own me anymore, Will Tyler,” she said. “I've tried to keep our relationship civil because of Erin, but my so-called love life is none of your business!”

“Erin says he's the high school principal.” Will had nothing to lose by pushing her a little further.

“That's right!” she snapped. “He's attractive, smart, decent, and, unlike you, he doesn't try to run my life. That's all I'm going to tell you. And don't you dare grill Erin about him! I won't have you putting her in the middle!”

“Agreed,” Will said. “But speaking of Erin, there's one thing I need you to do. Call Abner and tell him that if he wants to talk to her, he can do it here, with both of us present.”

“Fine.” Turning away from him, she took her cell phone out of her purse and exchanged a few terse words before ending the call. “Abner will be here in an hour,” she said in her crisp, neutral lawyer voice. “He'll want to talk with you as well.”

“No problem, I don't have a thing to hide.” Will tried to sound more confident than he felt. “Can I have my attorney present?”

“You're shameless.” Tori shook her head, but Will knew there was no way she wouldn't be involved.

“How about some breakfast, you two?” Bernice, Jasper's widowed sister, had been the Tylers' cook and housekeeper since Will's boyhood. With his family gone from the house, Will did for himself most mornings. But when Erin was here, or when Beau or Sky dropped by, she enjoyed whipping up a feast of bacon, eggs, potatoes, and pancakes, with coffee for the grown-ups and cocoa for Erin.

From the back porch came the sound of Jasper ringing the iron triangle to call Erin from the barn. Maybe Sky would come, too, though he showed up for breakfast less often now that he was engaged and building a home for his bride on the 100 prime acres Bull had left him. The half-Comanche horse trainer was a very private man. He hadn't known he was Bull's son until Jasper had told him, and he still kept it quiet. He wasn't even aware that Will had guessed the secret. Will planned to let him know when the time was right, maybe on his wedding day.

They sat around the cozy kitchen table—Jasper, Will, Tori, and Erin, with one chair saved for Bernice and another, with the place set, for anybody who happened by. Bernice was just setting the platters of food on the table when the back door opened and Beau stepped in.

“Smells good.” He was grinning, his face ruddy from the morning chill. “Hope you saved me a place.”

“Right there.” Will nodded toward the empty chair. “How's Natalie this morning?”

“Still asleep, I hope.” Beau pulled out the chair, sat down, and began filling his plate. “She was up past midnight, tending a sick mare over at the Johnson place. With the baby on the way, she needs more rest than she's getting.” He glanced across the table at Will. “Hey, I saw you on the news this morning, brother. It seems you've become a local celebrity, gunning down a drug dealer in the night. Maybe they'll send that hot Mindi Thacker out from the TV station to interview you.”

Will groaned. It was typical of his younger brother to turn a crisis into a joke. Today it rankled him, even though he knew that whatever happened, Beau would have his back. “It's not funny,” he growled. “Tori just filled me in on the legal implications. And Abner Sweeney's on his way out here now to ask more questions. You're welcome to sit in.”

“Maybe I'll do that. Especially if Abner still sees me as a cross between James Bond and Elliot Ness.” Beau's past career as a DEA agent had impressed the sheriff, who still called him to discuss the occasional drug case.

“I'm guessing I don't have to tell you anything else.” Will's subtle nod toward Erin was a signal that he didn't want to say more in front of his daughter.

“It was on the news.” Beau speared a pancake with his fork. “Bernice, I swear your breakfasts just keep getting better. It's lucky for us some gentleman hasn't come courting and stolen you away from us.”

Accustomed to his banter, Bernice shook her head. “Beau Tyler, you could sweet-talk a skunk, and I'd pay to see you try it.”

Laughter drifted around the breakfast table. In the past Will had treasured mornings like this, with the people he cared about gathered in the warmth of the kitchen. It was sad how rarely it happened these days. In no time at all, with Erin growing up, Bernice and Jasper getting old, Tori making new choices, and Beau, as well as Sky, involved in starting new families, these times would be gone forever.

Where would he be by then?

If the worst happened and he ended up on trial, he could be looking at the world through prison bars.

CHAPTER 3

“Y
ou say you couldn't tell who the man was, Erin?” Abner Sweeney checked his antiquated cassette recorder, to make sure it was still working, and put it back on the coffee table. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his neck. He was under orders from Stella to find something—anything—that might incriminate Will Tyler in her brother's death. So far, this poised twelve-year-old girl wasn't giving it to him.

“He was wearing a helmet that covered his eyes,” she said. “I could sort of see his mouth, but not really because it was dark. I thought he was the robber we heard about on the radio. I'm pretty sure my dad did, too.”

“Did the man say anything?”

“I couldn't hear. The window was closed.”

“I see.” Abner nodded, vaguely aware that he had to pee. It tended to happen when he was nervous, and he was nervous now. Not so much because of the girl, but because of her lawyer mother, sitting to one side, watching him the way a cougar would watch a sheep, ready to pounce at the first misstep. At least he'd managed to keep Will out of the room by insisting he had to question him and his daughter separately.

“Let me ask you something else, Erin. Did either of your parents tell you how to answer my questions?”

“Yes. They told me to tell the truth.”

“Then tell me the truth now. Did you see the knife?”

“Yes.”

“Where was it?” Abner tried to ignore the urges of his bladder. Maybe he needed to have his prostate checked. He was getting to that age.

“Where was the knife, Erin?” he asked again.

“In the man's hand.”

“What did he do with it? Here, show me with this.” He handed her the ballpoint pen from his pocket.

“He put his arm back like this.” She demonstrated, bringing the pen up and back, as if about to throw it.

“Did he throw it, or even start to?”

“No. That was when my dad shot him.”

“You're sure of that?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you, Erin.” And that, Abner told himself as he switched off the recorder, was as good as he was going to get.

* * *

Tori gave Erin a hug and sent her out of the den, where the interview had taken place. “Go see if Bernice needs any help,” she said. “I'll be right here if you need me.”

Tori thought that Will would've been proud of their daughter, but one thing troubled her. When Erin indicated that the dead man hadn't moved the knife forward to throw it, the sheriff 's bland expression had undergone a subtle change—a narrowing of the eyes, a tightening of the lips. As a courtroom lawyer, she'd learned to read people, and she didn't like what she'd seen.

Should she tell Will, or would that just worry him? She put the question aside as Will walked into the den, so tall and strong, and so totally in command that his presence seemed to fill the room. She didn't have to be here, Tori reminded herself. They'd been divorced for eight years, and she was doing her best to move on. Meeting Drew had given her hope that she really
could
move on.

Will's domineering ways had always made her a little crazy. Today was just one more reminder of that. But Will had gotten into this mess protecting their daughter. For that, she owed him.

The sheriff had excused himself to rush down the hall to the guest bathroom, giving Tori a moment alone with Will. He walked over to the armchair, where she sat perched on the edge; his broad-shouldered frame loomed above her. “How did Erin do?” he asked.

“She did us proud. Calm and cool, spoke right up—more than a match for the likes of Abner Sweeney.”

A smile twitched at one corner of his grimly set mouth. “At least we did one thing right, didn't we?”

“We did.”
And we did most other things wrong—my open defiance, Will's siding with his father, and the last thing, the darkest thing, when he accused me of something that didn't happen. Will never apologized; and I never forgave him.

“Will, let's get started.” The sheriff bustled back into the den, took his seat, and turned on the recorder. Will sat down at the end of the sectional leather sofa. “I hope you won't mind if I record your testimony. There's going to be an inquest, and I want to make sure your version of what happened is accurate.”

Will shrugged. “Fine. It won't be any different from what you heard last night. Tell me when to start.”

Tori listened while Will related the same story he'd told her. Abner stopped him from time to time to ask questions. Tori could tell the sheriff was probing for any detail that might conflict with what Erin had said. It was almost as if he was trying to build a case against Will. What she didn't understand was
why.
There was no bad blood between the sheriff and the Tylers. And Abner was no longer running for the election he'd just won. What was driving him?

Partway through the session, Beau wandered into the den, took a seat, and leaned forward to listen. Only when Will had finished his story, which matched Erin's, did he speak up.

“Sheriff, according to Will, the man said something about a package and money. The newscast I saw mentioned that the deputies found cocaine on his bike. Can we assume that Nick Tomescu was on his way to a drug deal, and that he mistook Will for his customer?”

Abner looked flustered. “We can't assume anything,” he said.

“Did you question his sister?”

“I did. Stella was grieving, of course. She said she didn't know anything about her brother's activities. I'm inclined to believe her.”

“Of course.” Beau rolled his eyes in Tori's direction. She responded with a subtle shake of her head. Stella Rawlins would never admit to being involved in anything. And she appeared to have the sheriff wrapped around her little finger.

Restless as a bull in the bucking chute, Will rose to his feet. “Are we finished, Sheriff? I need to get to work.”

“Just one more thing, Will,” the sheriff said. “Last night you told me you'd sent your daughter away because she hadn't seen anything. That turned out to be untrue. Do you have anything to add in defense of your statement?”

Tori's eyes were on Will—his tightened jaw, his narrowed eyes. She knew that look all too well. It was the look of a man who'd had enough. As he drew in his breath, she braced for the explosion.

Will exhaled, holding himself in check. “I'm done here,” he said. “Ask my lawyer.”

With that, he strode out of the room. Tori heard the closing of the front door—not quite a slam—and the roar of his pickup as he sped away. She guessed he'd be headed somewhere out of reach, maybe up to the summer pastures on the caprock to check the grass and mend the fences. That had been his way when they were married—in any kind of emotional crisis, Will would simply walk away and disappear into his work.

Abner was staring after him, slack-jawed. Tori rose, speaking into the silence. “Sheriff, I believe you already know the answer to your question. Will didn't know that Erin had seen the shooting until I told him this morning. You've no call to read anything else into the situation. Agreed?”

“Well, yes, I suppose so.” Abner stood, turned off the recorder, and stuffed it into his imitation-leather briefcase. “I guess we really are done here.”

“You said there'd be an inquest.” Beau had risen as well. “Can you give us some idea what's involved and how long it'll take?”

“My best guess is ten days to several weeks. We'll need to get the coroner's report and schedule the judge. If the judge wants to impanel a jury, that'll take more time.”

“A jury? Why, for God's sake?” Beau demanded.

“To decide whether Will should be charged and tried—most likely for manslaughter.”

With that exit line, Abner picked up his briefcase and keys, and headed out the front door.

* * *

That evening, after a long, restless afternoon, Tori stood at the porch rail and watched the last rays of the setting sun fade behind the escarpment. The canyons lay deep in purple shadow, the high buttes above them still bathed in velvety mauve light. Quail called from the cedars along the foothills. Horses, their nostrils testing the wind, nickered and snorted in the paddock. The evening breeze carried the smell of dust and an ominous chill, a warning, perhaps, that the first norther of the season was already sweeping down the distant plain.

She glanced at the luminous dial of her watch. Drew had planned to pick her up two hours from now for an eight o'clock movie and late-night pizza. Either she would need to go home, change, and be there when he arrived, or call now and cancel their date.

The question was, should she stay here with Erin? Her daughter had seemed fine today, but last night she'd had trouble sleeping. Tori had ended up putting an old Disney movie in the DVD player and watching with her until her head drooped and her eyes closed. If Erin was still traumatized tonight, Tori didn't want to leave her, not even with Will. At times like this, a child needed her mother.

And Will—did he need her, too?

But that couldn't be allowed to matter. Will was his own man, and she was no longer his wife. It made sense that she'd agreed to be his lawyer. But that was where she had to draw the line. Sympathy wasn't part of the bargain.

So, if she canceled her date and stayed here, would that be sending Will the wrong message?

A brisk November wind whistled across the porch. Tori shivered beneath her light wool sweater. Either way, it was time to make a decision.

She was about to go back inside when she felt a warm weight settle on her shoulders. As the smells of sage, wood smoke, and horses enfolded her, she recognized Will's fleece-lined range coat and the strong hands that had wrapped it around her.

“Can't have you freezing out here, can we?” Will's husky baritone rumbled in her ear. He stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders, his breath stirring her hair. A long-forgotten thread of heat uncurled in the depths of her body, recalling the sensual passion that had created Erin and the other baby, the one she'd lost. In those early years their lovemaking had been good. More than good—until the end, when even love hadn't been enough.

Tori closed her eyes, an ache rising in her throat. “You weren't here for supper,” she said. “Where've you been?”

“Working. Riding. Thinking. Whatever the hell a man does at a time like this. By the time Abner finished with me, I wasn't fit company for you or anybody else.” His hands lingered on her shoulders. “How's Erin?”

“Fine. When I last checked, she was doing her homework in the dining room.” The old memory tugged at her, standing in the ranch kitchen, feeling the brush of his stubbled whiskers on the back of her neck . . . She felt the heat rising, her body warming. Even after eight years apart, she wasn't immune to Will's raw masculinity.

But there was only one sensible choice here, and Tori forced herself to make it. “I hope you can keep Erin company awhile,” she said. “I was about to leave. I have a date tonight.”

His hands dropped from her shoulders. He took a step backward, widening the space between them. “You had a date last night,” he said.

“Yes, I know.” Turning, she slipped off his coat and thrust it toward him. “My plan is to drive back here afterward, with a bag packed for a night or two. How long I stay here will depend on how Erin is doing. If we agree that she's better off on the ranch for now, I'll call the school on Monday and arrange for her lessons. But you can't keep
me
here, Will. I'm not a prisoner. I have a life.”

Stony-faced, Will took the coat. “But will that life be safe? Damn it, Tori—”

“I'll be just fine. And for heaven's sake, don't wait up for me. I'm not sixteen anymore.” Sweeping past him, Tori strode into the house to get her purse and say good night to Erin. Was Will more concerned about her safety or about her being with another man? Either way, she couldn't let his problems dictate her life. She was going on a date with Drew Middleton, and, by heaven, she was going to have a good time.

* * *

The grandfather clock in the front hall struck the hour of twelve. Will counted the chimes from his bed, where he lay on his back, staring up into the darkness. Midnight, and Tori still hadn't come back from her so-called date. She was out there somewhere with some goody-two-shoes bastard who held the power to change all their lives—Tori's, Erin's, and his own. Will had never met Drew Middleton. If he ever did—and it was bound to happen sooner or later—it would take all his restraint to keep from punching the man in the face.

Damn it, Middleton didn't belong in the picture. He didn't have a clue about Tori, didn't even know her. He hadn't watched her grow up, changing from a coltish youngster who tore around the ranch with Beau and Natalie to a stunning woman, returning home with a brand-new law degree. Her beauty had knocked Will's socks off back then. It still did.

It wasn't Drew Middleton who'd driven Tori to the Lubbock hospital in a blue norther the night Erin was born. It wasn't Middleton who'd walked the floor with Erin when she had the croup. And it sure as hell wasn't Middleton who'd held Tori in his arms while she sobbed over the loss of their second baby, five months into her pregnancy.

The man was an outsider. He didn't belong in Tori's world or in Erin's. Why couldn't Tori see that?

Twelve-fifteen. Was Tori in Middleton's arms right now, or maybe even in his bed?

Stop it!
Will forced the image from his mind. It was time he quit agonizing over his ex-wife and opened his eyes to the reality that was staring him in the face. He had every right to be concerned about Tori's safety. But her romantic life was her own business. The two of them shared a much-loved child. For Erin's sake, he and Tori kept their connection, talking and meeting often, even sharing Sunday dinners on the ranch. But that didn't make her
his.
Whether he liked it or not, she hadn't been
his
in a very long time.