Texas Forever. Janet Dailey

      “You’re terrible, Rose.”

      Rose grinned in the darkness. “Yes, I know. But speaking of the Prescotts, I do have one question. I’m aware that Ferg passed away before Bull did. But I’ve never been told how it happened. It would give me some satisfaction to know.”

      Will flipped his cigarette butt over the porch rail, onto the gravel, where it glowed for a few seconds, then faded in the dark. “I know you’re hoping that Ferg got the ending he deserved. You might say he did, but not in the way you’d expect. A few years after you left for Wyoming, Ferg developed early onset Alzheimer’s. He went downhill pretty fast. Garn came home, bundled his father off to a nursing home, and put the ranch up for sale. By the time Ferg died, with his mind pretty well gone, the syndicate had taken over, and Garn was using the money to buy himself a seat in Congress.

      “That sounds like Garn.” Rose shook her head. “And you’re right about what happened to Ferg. It wasn’t what I expected. Nobody deserves to go that way. Not even a greedy, lying slimeball like Ferg Prescott.”

      The stars were coming out. Rose leaned back in her chair to sip her beer and watch them appear, one by one, in the deepening sky. She’d meant to mention her land and the condition of her grandpa’s grave. But she and Will were both talked out. It might be best to wait until after the funeral. For now, it was good to be back on Rimrock soil. The place was beginning to feel like home again.

      * * *

      Hunter Cardwell, manager of the syndicate-owned Prescott Ranch, glared at his son, across the dinner table. “I’ve noticed that that diamond ring of your grandma’s is still in the box,” he said. “I expected the Tyler girl to be wearing it by now.”

      Kyle’s gaze dropped to the half-finished beef stroganoff on his plate. “I asked her. But Erin says she needs more time. Don’t worry, Dad, I’ll ask her again soon. She can’t say no forever.”

      “If you know what’s good for you, you won’t let her,” Hunter said. “Do you think I like working my ass off for wages? Do you think I want the same for my son? That girl is our one chance to get a ranch in the family. She’s Will Tyler’s only heir, and when he goes—”

      “Will Tyler’s got a brother, who works for the DEA in Washington.”

      “Don’t you argue with me,” Hunter snapped. “I’ve looked into it. Will Tyler arranged to buy out his brother’s share a few years ago. The deal left him cash poor, with a mortgage from the bank, but Will’s the sole owner now, and that daughter of his is pure gold. So help me, son, if you screw this up—”

      “I won’t, Dad. I promise.”

      “Then why aren’t you with her right now? That old-timer the Tylers set so much store by croaked a couple of days ago. The girl’s bound to need comforting. The least you could do is be there for her.”

      “Dad, I talked with Erin on the phone. She doesn’t want to see me until after the funeral. That’s not till Saturday.”

      “Damn!” Hunter’s fist came down hard on the table, making the dishes and cutlery jump. “You’ll never get the girl if you let her push you around like that. Be a man. Go after her. Show her you mean business. Understand?”

      “Yes, Dad.” Kyle’s handsome face wore a sullen look.

      “Yes, what?”

      “Yes, I understand.”

      “That’s better.” Hunter’s gaze swung toward his wife. “Vivian, these potatoes are cold. Can’t you learn to serve a meal with everything hot at the same time? No, don’t get up. Just learn to do it right, unless you’re too stupid to learn. If that’s the case, we have a problem.”

      * * *

      Vivian Cardwell didn’t reply. She’d long since learned that meeting her husband’s tirades with silence was the only defense available to her. Stand up to him, and she would pay the price for days on end.

      She could leave him, she thought. Her mirror told her she was still a pretty woman, with fair skin, green eyes, long, auburn hair, and a nice, voluptuous figure. Some man would want her. Or she could always get a job. But that would mean leaving her home, and leaving her son at the mercy of Hunter’s browbeating. Kyle was old enough to strike out on his own. But as long as there was a chance of his marrying Erin Tyler, Hunter would never let him go.

      She studied her husband from her place at the foot of the table, nearest the kitchen. Hunter Cardwell was a strikingly handsome man, tall and athletically built, with chiseled features and dark hair that was turning an elegant shade of silver. When he had something to gain by it, he could be charming, especially to women.

      As far as Vivian knew, her husband hadn’t been unfaithful. He was demanding in bed, but sex tended to be all about him, leaving her feeling more used than loved. Sometimes, like tonight, she almost wished Hunter would have an affair. At least it might improve his disposition—or better yet, give her an excuse to walk away.

      When the meal was finished, Hunter retired to his study and the endless record keeping that the syndicate owners demanded. Kyle went up to his room to spend time on his computer course in range management—or at least, that’s what he said he’d be doing. Tonight, Vivian didn’t care.

      After the table was cleared, the kitchen tidied, and the dishwasher loaded, she wandered outside, onto the front porch of the modest, split-level frame house that had come with the manager’s job. Standing at the rail, she closed her eyes and let the night breeze dry her sweat-dampened face. Night-flying insects chirped and hummed in the darkness. The jasmine vine she’d planted below the porch and had babied through two years of heat, drought, and cold had finally put out a few timid white blossoms, their fragrance almost drowned by the odors of dust and livestock.

      Minutes away, by unpaved back road, lay the neighboring Rimrock Ranch. Its impressive main house, a blend of stone, glass, and timber, was as handsome and rugged as its owner. Vivian had been inside the house just once, when she and Hunter had paid their respects after the funeral of Will Tyler’s wife. They’d only stayed a short time, but when Will had taken her hand, the briefest gesture, she’d been struck by his quiet strength and dignity, and by the sheer masculinity of his presence.

      Since that day, four months ago, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him.

      How would it feel to be cradled by those powerful arms? To be kissed by him? Loved by him?

      Fantasizing about him was wrong, she knew. Will was mourning his wife. She was married.

      But as long as nothing happened, what harm could a little dreaming do? And nothing was going to happen between her and Will Tyler. Not ever.

      CHAPTER THREE

      “HAVE YOU MET THE NEW MAN?” ERIN ASKED HER FATHER AS they sat down to a breakfast of ham, fried eggs, and toast.

      “Not yet. But Sky had good things to say about him. He was up at first light to help with chores—he told Sky he’d been made to understand that he’d be expected to work for his meals.”

      “That speaks well for him.” Erin remembered telling Luke Maddox that if he wanted to eat he’d have to help with chores. He must have taken her at her word. “The question is, how well can he shoe horses?”

      “I guess we’ll find out. Sky had him set up in the small paddock with the spring foals. He’ll be starting on the other horses after the funeral, when there are more hands available to bring the horses in.”

      “He’s doing the foals?” Erin felt a twinge of alarm. “But foals aren’t shod. Horses don’t need shoes until they’re ready to work.”

      “He’ll just be trimming their hooves. Sky insists the man knows what he’s doing. That’s good enough for me.”

      “Well, it isn’t good enough for me,” Erin said. “I want to see for myself