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jaw tightened. Yeah, he was trouble, he thought bitterly. All he’d ever done in his life was try to walk the straight and narrow, to do the right thing no matter what it cost. And it had cost him one hell of a lot.
“I don’t give a damn what people think,” Tyler muttered.
“Not here. But back in Texas …”
“Was a lifetime ago, Gib. That doesn’t matter.” He paused at the open doorway long enough to cast the cook a pointed look. “If you’re worried my reputation is going to get you in trouble, you don’t have to hang around and wait for the axe to fall. You going back to the Rocking P would give Dad one more reason to gloat.”
“Gloat, hell! Warren Pickens will never see this old man again. Dead or alive.” The older man shoved his hands into the soapy water and began to scrub a plate. “My home is here with you. Is that settled?”
This was the perfect time to tell Gib just how grateful he was for his unwavering loyalty, Tyler thought. But he’d never learned to actually form the sentiments in his heart into words. He’d always believed in letting his actions speak for his feelings. While his twin brother had been exactly the opposite. He’d had a gift of gab and affectionate phrases had rolled off his tongue like molasses off a hot biscuit. And they’d meant little more.
“It’s settled,” Tyler said, then moved to the older man and clasped his shoulder briefly. “I’ll be back by midafternoon.”
Minutes later, Tyler was driving through a section of road where flames had eaten grass and underbrush right up to the edge of the bar ditch. Slowing the truck, he stared with disgust at the soot-covered ground, the charred tree trunks. The person responsible needed to be choked to within an inch of his life, just to show him how the wildlife felt when they were being consumed with smoke and running for their lives.
But he wasn’t going to hold out much hope that the sheriff’s department would find the culprit. Unless they’d found plenty of worthwhile clues at the origin of the fire. And if that had been the case, Deputy Lightfoot hadn’t let on. No, she’d been wasting time with useless questions about his feelings toward the Cantrells.
Trying not to think about Rosalinda Lightfoot, he pressed down on the accelerator. After rounding a sharp bend in the road, he spotted a Chaparral truck parked at the edge of the narrow dirt path. Seeing Laramie Jones sitting beneath the steering wheel, Tyler pulled alongside the vehicle and stopped. As he rolled down his window, Laramie did the same.
“Out surveying the damage?” Tyler asked the dark-haired cowboy. Laramie had been the foreman of the huge neighboring ranch for far longer than Tyler had lived in New Mexico.
He shot Tyler a weary grin. “Could’ve been worse.”
“Amen to that. You lose any cattle?”
“No,” Laramie answered. “What about yourself?”
“One cow cut her leg, that’s all,” Tyler told him. “She must have spooked and bolted through the fence. Thankfully, most of the herd was up on a higher range last night.”
“That’s good,” Laramie replied.
Was the other man thinking how convenient that sounded? Tyler wondered. Was Laramie part of the group that considered him to be nothing but trouble? He didn’t want to think so. Laramie Jones was one of the few men who had befriended him since he’d moved here.
I don’t give a damn what people think.
Tyler’s outburst to Gib a few minutes ago hadn’t been completely true, he thought. He didn’t mind if people considered him cocky, or hot-tempered or a weird recluse. Those were trivial and sometimes even accurate descriptions of him. But the idea that anyone might consider him a criminal was another matter completely.
“A deputy is up at the ranch right now questioning my men.” Pulling off his dark aviator glasses, he looked directly at the foreman. “If any of them had anything to do with this, Laramie, I want them to be severely punished.”
“I have no doubts about that. A couple of deputies are at our place, too. Let’s hope they get to the bottom of this. And quick.”
Tyler released a heavy breath. “So how is Quint taking all this? Last night when we were moving cattle I didn’t see him around.”
“He’s angry and worried. That’s how he’s taking it. His wife, Maura, is pregnant and last night she was so upset over the fire that I convinced him to stay with her and let the rest of us men handle the cattle.”
From what Tyler understood, the baby was going to be Quint’s third child, coming after two young sons. In all honesty, Tyler had to admit he was envious of the man. At one time in his life he’d wanted children desperately. More than anything, he’d wanted to be a father and raise his children far from the stranglehold Warren Pickens had placed upon him. But DeeDee hadn’t wanted to be a mother. Hell, after less than a year of being married, she’d not even wanted to be his wife. She’d wanted to have fun and enjoy herself. And Tyler’s twin, Trent, had been more than eager and willing to show her a good time.
Now, nearly ten years later, Tyler fought to forget how he’d bent over backward to please his young but fickle wife. In the end, she’d not been worth his efforts and all his trying had made him look like an even bigger fool. Especially with his father continually taunting him with warnings that Trent was the man DeeDee really loved. And as it turned out, Warren’s stinging predictions had come true. In the end, DeeDee had divorced him and married Trent. Not only that, the two of them had moved in to the very house that Tyler had originally built for himself and his wife.
Hell, what was he doing thinking about DeeDee or Trent at a time like this? Tyler wondered, as he gave himself a mental shake. He didn’t give a damn about either one of them. They deserved each other.
Putting the truck into gear, he said, “Well, you and Quint have my number. If either of you need me for anything, just call.”
“Thanks.”
Tyler lifted a hand in farewell and put the truck into motion. A quarter of a mile down the road, his cell phone rang and seeing the caller was his foreman, he quickly answered. “Yeah, Sawyer?”
“Sorry to bother you, Ty. But you’d better get back here to the ranch. Quick.”
Tyler bit back a sigh of frustration. Sawyer was a competent man. He didn’t annoy Tyler with trivial problems, so clearly something had to be wrong. “What the hell has happened now?”
“It’s that deputy. Seems as though Santo didn’t take too kindly to some of her questions. He blew his stack and told her he’d taken feed sacks, a jug of kerosene and a cigarette lighter down to the property line and set the fire. Said he’d wanted to burn every damned Cantrell to a crisp! Now she’s about to haul him to jail!”
Muttering a curse under his breath, he promptly jammed on the brakes and wheeled the truck around in the middle of the road. “Stall her if you can! I’ll be right there.”
When Tyler reached the ranch yard he instantly spotted Santo standing at the front of the deputy’s vehicle with his hands cuffed behind his back. Sawyer and two other cowboys were standing several yards away, anxiously watching the scene unfold. Instead of worrying that his men might cross the line with the pretty deputy, Tyler realized he should’ve been more concerned about her taking advantage of his men.
After braking the truck to a jarring halt, Tyler leaped to the ground. He trotted over to where Deputy Lightfoot was speaking on a two-way radio affixed to the dashboard of her truck.
He waited until she leaned across the seat to hang the mike back on its holder before lashing out at her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Slowly turning from the vehicle, she fastened a look of warning on him. “That should be clear to you. I’m taking your employee into custody.”
Tyler would be the first to turn over any man on this ranch if he was