Texas Forever. Janet Dailey

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СКАЧАТЬ later, they were on their way, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the highway. “Let’s hope we can beat the rush hour traffic,” Erin said. “I promised Dad I’d have you home in time for dinner. He’ll be so glad to see you.”

      “How is Will?” Rose asked. “I haven’t seen him since he was a boy. But I remember how serious and responsible he was, even then. I’m guessing that Jasper’s death hit him hard.”

      “It hit all of us hard,” Erin said. “But I think it was the worst for Dad, especially since my mother passed away just four months ago.”

      “Oh, no!” Rose exclaimed. “He didn’t tell me. I’m so sorry.”

      “He doesn’t like to talk about it.” Erin had learned to hide her own grief, even though it was always there, like a cold, raw pain that never went away. “It was cancer. She was only forty-three. Dad was devastated. And now, with Jasper gone, it’s like he’s been knocked down and gut kicked twice.” She glanced at Rose. “I’m really glad you’ve come. Seeing you again is bound to raise his spirits.”

      “I hope so.” Rose gazed out the window at the traffic, then changed the subject. “Lubbock has changed a lot since the last time I was here. I’m guessing the ranch has changed, too.”

      “Not as much as you’d think,” Erin said. “The house is still there. The barn was rebuilt after a fire, but it’s in the same place. The old sheds and corrals are pretty much the same, just fixed up.”

      “How about the people? I remember Bernice and what a wonderful cook she was. But she was only a few years younger than Jasper. I don’t suppose she’s still around.”

      “Bernice retired and went to live with her daughter. She passed away a couple of years ago. We hired a Latina woman, the wife of one of our cowboys, to take her place. Her name’s Carmen. She’s good at her job, but she doesn’t live in the house, like Bernice did.”

      “And the chickens? I loved those chickens. Jasper and I built their coop together.”

      “Sorry, no more chickens. There’s a supermarket in Blanco Springs. We get our eggs and chicken meat there now.”

      Rose sighed. “Too bad. There’s something about raising chickens that’s good for the soul. And goats, too.”

      “Sorry, no goats either,” Erin said.

      “Too bad.” Rose fell silent as she gazed out the side window. They were on the freeway now, with the flat caprock plain stretching to the horizon on either side of them. The pastures, croplands, and cotton fields, watered by deep artesian wells, were green. But the stretches of open country offered little more than yellowed grass, dry scrub, and blowing dust.

      “It’s so dry,” Rose remarked. “The Rimrock must be hurting for water.”

      “This is the worst drought I can remember,” Erin said. “Are you familiar with that parcel up on the caprock, with the wells?”

      “I am.” Rose smiled. “As I recall, Bull won it in a poker game. I always suspected him of cheating, but that was Bull for you. To him, the land was everything. Land and family. Nothing else mattered.” She paused. “Sorry, you were going to say something about the parcel.”

      Erin pulled out to pass a lumbering cattle truck. “We’ve counted on that caprock land to save us in a drought, but this year we’ve overgrazed it. There’s water up there but the grass is almost eaten off. If we don’t pull the cattle off soon, it won’t grow back. We’re trucking water to the mountain tanks, and the water table’s in danger of sinking below the wells that supply the house and lower pastures. Even the horses . . .” Erin pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Aside from selling our stock early, we’re running out of options.”

      Rose brushed Erin’s arm with one small, work-worn hand. “I can tell you’re as passionate about the land and animals as your father and grandfather were. You’re a Tyler, Erin. You’ll find a way to get through this.” She was silent for a moment. “You haven’t mentioned the creek—the one that flows from the aquifer under the caprock and runs along the property line with the old Prescott Ranch. Surely that wouldn’t go dry. Do you still run creek water into that old stock tank, the one that Bull dug years ago?”

      “We’ve replaced the tank with a metal one,” Erin said. “But yes, we still fill it from the creek. There’s not enough water for a big herd, but that creek is vital to the survival of the ranch. The plan is, if worse comes to worst, and we have to sell off everything but breeding stock, we’ll pay a grazing fee to run them on that government land beyond the ranch boundary and water them from the tank and the creek.” She glanced at Rose. “I’m surprised that you know so much about the ranch, especially that creek.”

      “You shouldn’t be,” Rose said, “unless Will hasn’t told you the story.”

      “Told me what story?” Erin felt a vague, tingling premonition.

      “That strip of land along the Rimrock side of the creek belonged to my grandfather. To shorten a long story, I was with Grandpa when he was shot trying to defend it from the Prescotts. Bull showed up in time to save me, but it was too late for Grandpa. Bull buried him on the property, under an old fallen tree.”

      “Yes—I’ve seen that headstone. It’s mostly covered in dirt and cow droppings now. I’ve always assumed it was some old-time settler buried there. So, that’s your grandfather?”

      “I was fourteen when he left that parcel to me. Bull took me in and took over the land. Years later, after I threatened to join forces with Ferg Prescott to get it, he deeded that land back to me on condition that the Rimrock always be given access to the water. I kept my part of the bargain. But I expected better for my grandpa’s memory.”

      “I’m sorry,” Erin said. “I wish I’d known about it.”

      “You couldn’t have known, dear. All this happened long before you were born.” Rose’s voice took on a determined tone. “My grandpa gave his life’s blood for that land. And if his grave isn’t being given the care and respect it deserves, I’m going to have to do something about it.”

      “If you need help cleaning the place up and restoring the grave—”

      “Thank you. I may take you up on that.” Rose fell silent. For the next few minutes Erin focused on driving, moving to the outside lane of the freeway and watching for the exit to Blanco Springs. But she was too curious about Rose’s story to let it rest.

      “I hope you won’t mind one more question,” she said. “You say your grandfather was shot by the Prescotts. Who actually shot him? Was it Ferg?”

      “It was Ham Prescott, Ferg’s father.” The strain in Rose’s voice revealed the vividness of her memory. “I was there. I saw it with my own eyes. It was cold-blooded murder.”

      “Was Ham arrested for it?”

      “No. That’s another long story. But justice caught up with him.”

      “What happened?” Erin asked.

      A moment of silence passed before Rose answered. “I forget how much time passed—several weeks, maybe. Bull and Jasper had taken me in and done their best to protect me, but the night came when I was alone in the house. Ham had learned that I’d СКАЧАТЬ