22. Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

" I 've been keeping something from you," Junior said in the silence across the campfire.

He and Ben had camped a day's ride northwest of home. The weather was clear, they had made good time, and life had returned to normalcy since being in his brother's quiet presence. If only that blasted secret wasn't hanging over his head like a rain cloud threatening to pop. The more time he'd spent around Ben, the larger it loomed.

Ben paused in the middle of pouring his coffee, forehead wrinkling above straight, black brows. His shrewd eyes were the same hue as Junior's. "Does it have anything to do with Sol's little sister?"

Junior froze. "What makes you say that?"

"You two aren't real good about hidin' your feelings."

To hide his burgeoning panic, Junior laughed. "I don't know what you're talkin' about."

"Horse shit."

"You know how me and Izzy are."

"I know how you two used to be, Junior. But it's gone a mite past that." Ben's broad chest swelled with a breath as though he was struggling for patience. "And I think unless you're plannin' on marrying her, you need to leave her alone. Cut ties."

Sudden, helpless fury choked Junior. His words came tumbling out, heated. Impassioned. "I did cut ties. I stayed as far away as I could, Ben. And then I still found myself in Austin, watchin' over her like God had sent me to be some guardian angel. More fool Him. The things she's been up to…"

Silence followed this explosion, and they watched each other, a mountain lion and a panther meeting in unknown territory.

Warily, Ben gestured with his tin cup. "I reckon she feels the same about you, considerin' how she acted when she found out about Kristy Anne."

"Christ, not that woman again. That name pops up like a bad penny." Junior scrubbed his face with both hands until his vision blurred. "Whatever fool notion Kristy Anne had about us, I settled it. I broke it off and told Mother to stop yammering about nuptials that were never gonna happen."

"You tell Isa this?"

"Who the hell do you think I did it for?" Junior looked at his brother, defenseless. "What am I going to do, huh? I don't think I can keep away from her. She's under my skin."

Pensively, Ben scratched the dense black stubble hiding the cleft Stone chin. "Have you considered askin' Sol and their pa's permission to court her?"

"She's not interested in marriage. The life Isa wants"—Junior struggled to put it into words—"it's not traditional. She wants to go places. See things. Experience life. Imagine having her brain but being raised in a family that multiplies like rabbits and never makes it past primary school. Izzy's had a taste of the family life. A dozen siblings and double the nieces and nephews—she doesn't want that. She wants something different."

Ben's expression was indecipherable. "You know her pretty well, don't you?"

Uncomfortable, Junior pulled a cigarette out from his vest pocket and busily worked on lighting it. "I reckon I do." Desperate to change the subject, he veered the conversation away from Isa. "I've been meaning to ask, have any drifters shown up in town and asked about me?"

Eyes narrowing, Ben said, "No. Should I be worried?"

"I have to tell you something, and it's not an easy thing to say."

"I'm listenin'."

The cigarette trembled slightly between Junior's two fingers. "I'm not a Texas Ranger. Not anymore."

Ben set his cup down and clasped his hands together between his knees. "What happened?"

"Got discharged." Though it was easier talking to Ben than their father, it was difficult imparting news proving how much of a disappointment he was. "Dishonorably."

The word rang out like a cymbal crash. Ben pulled the coffee pot from its bed of coals and refilled his cup, a deep crease between his two black brows. "When was this?"

"Two years ago."

Ben set the coffee pot back in its place, picked up his mug full of black, shimmering liquid, and cradled it between his palms. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Christ, Ben." Junior shook his head at the little fire. "It was a dishonorable discharge . I've done enough fool things over the years that I was in no hurry to tell you I'd dug myself into a hole again."

Mouth pursed, Ben took a tense sip of his coffee. Then he surprised Junior. "You said two years ago? I knew something was wrong. Couldn't put my finger on it, but I knew. You'd stopped sending letters, didn't talk much when you came home…if you came home. You looked like—" He broke off.

Clenching his trembling hands together, Junior demanded, "I looked like what?"

"Like you were thinkin' life wasn't worth livin'." Ben's jaw flexed. "Lucy and I were both scared."

Junior held silent.

"But I didn't push it," Ben added cautiously. "'Cause you made me a promise that you wouldn't do a fool thing like you did in the hayloft again without talkin' to me first."

Junior released the tight clench of his jaw and admitted softly, "I did think about it. But I won't break my promise. I just didn't want to talk to anyone about it. About what I've done."

"You wanna talk about it now?"

"I don't know." Junior's voice was barely audible. "I don't think I'm ready to tell you yet. It's bad. Real bad."

"Not bad enough to hang."

"Almost did. Captain Havelard had some words with the judge."

"Jesus. Neither Pa nor I were notified you went to court."

"At my request. But the case—it was sensitive. Not open to civilians."

They sat in the tense quiet for several minutes. Then Ben said gently, "I'm glad you told me. Must have been damned hard."

Junior could only nod, throat painfully tight. He felt the cloud above him break apart piece by piece. The pain was there, but it was less. And soon, he'd tell Ben everything, and the past would be vapor over the horizon.

TWO WEEKS LATER, Junior's spirits were high as they rode across Ben's pasture. A turkey squawked and gobbled on Ben's pack mule in a flimsy cage. They hadn't had another uncomfortable conversation since that first night, and Junior was light as a feather. The only thing that would make a perfect end to their journey would be if Isa coincidentally visited the ranch.

A tall, shirtless Sol caught Junior's eye along the distant fence line.

Face splitting into wide, toothy grins, the two men rode closer to the foreman. Junior called out, "Don't you know it's almost winter? Put your damned shirt on."

Sol stopped digging the post hole and turned, shading his eyes with a filthy, callused hand. "When Hell freezes over!"

Ben chuckled, but he didn't slow his mount down. "I'll meet with you later, Sol. I'm gonna give the missus a turkey and a kiss."

"Give her a kiss for me," Junior called after him, laughing at the rude hand gesture Ben sent over his broad shoulder.

"Better not let his boys catch him doin' that." Sol chuckled, wiping his face with a forearm.

"Pretty sure Samuel invented that one," Junior said wryly, tossing his full canteen at Sol.

"How was the trip?" Sol asked before taking a swig.

They talked about the weather during the trail; it had rained on them the night before, and Junior was certain he was coming down with something. He told Sol about the meeting with the Stock-Raisers' Association and the changes in prices for the upcoming year.

"Damned depression," Sol growled. He tossed the canteen back.

"We'll make do," Junior sighed, hanging the empty container on his saddle horn. "Ben's got a good head for business. It'd be even better if we got Izzy in his corner."

"Ain't that the truth."

"Is she around?" Junior kept his tone innocent.

Sol scratched a fine dusting of dirt off the back of his neck. On a fence post, his shirt fluttered in the wind. "At the ranch? Nope."

"Oh. She still in Dogwood, then?" Junior's question was carefully offhanded.

Laughing, Sol sent a questioning glance in Junior's direction. "Why do you want to know so bad? You courtin' her or something?"

Sweat broke out on Junior's lip. "What? Hell no!" Good thing he hadn't dismounted. He had never beaten Sol in a footrace, and Champion would have a far better chance of outrunning the lanky cowboy.

Sol barked out a laugh and turned back to his work. "Good. You ain't good enough for her anyway."

Junior's stomach sank, and he had to smooth his expression when Sol glanced back at him, still with a curious frown wrinkling his brow. Junior cleared his throat. "You can't just say something like that and not expect a man to jump a little."

"Hell, Junior, I know you wouldn't do me like that. I trust you more than anyone not to start sniffin' around my baby sister."

"Yeah."

"Oh, I almost forgot. Your pa rode by last week. He wants you to come by the big house as soon as you're settled."

"Appreciate it."

Junior rode along the edge of Ben's property toward home. He had no plans to ride to his father's house. If anyone could bring his mood down into the dirt, it was John Stone, Sr.

The black cloud was back. Worse, it was akin to an anvil, crushing Junior with the heavy weight of guilt. He was the sorriest son of a bitch alive. What sort of friend vowed to protect a beloved little sister just to carry on with her behind the brother's back? Was he supposed to resist Isa?

He certainly couldn't anymore.

He was well and truly tied.

If he was a righteous man, he would stay away from her. Too bad he wasn't.

Already, he was planning on getting a night's shut-eye, then riding into Dogwood first thing in the morning.

Junior patted his pocket. Something small and hard dug comfortingly into his thigh. He'd seen the trinket in a glass case during a supply run in Dallas, and it had glittered, stylish but different. It made him think of Isa. The price had lightened his wallet, and he'd left the store with a secret smile. Even now, the thought of gifting it to his girl and stealing a kiss replaced any residual self-reproach.

Two hours later, he sank into his bed, cleansed of trail dirt and exhausted. Thoughts of Isa's response sent him into blissful sleep.

HOOFBEATS brOUGHT JUNIOR awake the next morning.

Automatically, he slid stealthily out of bed, grabbed his .45 Colt off the bedside table, and crept down the hall. His throat was on fire, and he had to stifle an explosive sneeze at the front window. An unfamiliar horse was tethered to the front porch post. Several harsh knocks pounded on the door. Junior cocked his gun, teeth clenched together, glassy eyes fixed.

"Come on, boy, I know you're in there!" a voice barked through the solid door. The man tried the doorknob; it was locked.

Nostrils flaring, Junior lowered his gun.

Father .

Junior unlocked the front door, opened it, and stepped back, squinting at the invasion of midmorning light. John Stone's great silhouette spread a dark shadow, stretching halfway across Junior and beyond. His father stomped in and slammed the door shut.

"Do you know how long I've been lookin' for you, damn it?"

"Mornin', how are you? Good? Hell, I'm grand, thanks for asking." Junior's sarcastic retort was trailed by a tickling cough.

"Morning? It's noon on a Sunday. Couldn't pull yourself outta bed for church? Didn't those Rangers teach you any discipline?"

Too busy coughing to answer, Junior turned his back on his sire and shouldered his way through the kitchen door. Without asking John if he wanted any, Junior readied a pot of coffee to brew and stoked the banked fire in the stove. His father followed, casting disparagements against the red union suit Junior wore in broad daylight, carping on about how he'd had to ride all over creation to find him.

"I was with Ben at the Stock-Raisers' meetings," Junior said without heat. Lord, he felt like hell. "Now I'm dying of the bubonic plague, and you couldn't give a damn."

John snorted, narrowing a jaundiced eye on his son. "Your mama told me you jilted Miss Kristy Anne."

"I didn't jilt anyone, considering I didn't ask the female to marry me in the first place." Junior looked hard at John.

"Don't you look at me like that, boy."

"I won't when you and Mother keep your noses out of business that doesn't concern you."

John took a threatening step forward. "Big words comin' from a pissant I used to whoop till he was twenty."

You just try it, you old sonuvabitch , Junior thought. The thought of overpowering his father made him revolt deep inside, but he was too sick and tired to keep the peace, literally and figuratively. Swallowing his words and being the bigger man was hard when he felt cold and shivery, and his throat had turned into a red-hot brand.

As if realizing he was getting nowhere fast, John pulled the dining chair out and took a seat. The wood creaked under his weight. "If you don't want Kristy Anne, who do you want?"

Scoffing, Junior turned back to the blue enamel coffee kettle. "What makes you think I want anyone?"

"Your mama said something about that Williams girl." Said with the same tone reserved for diseased cattle, full of disgust and indignation.

"If you know everything, why ask?" Everything was a test with this man.

"I just wanted to check that you weren't tellin' your mama any balooey."

Nostrils pinching, Junior pulled a mug from the cabinet and scraped petrified sugar out of the enamel dish with a spoon. The spoon bent. "Just 'cause I talked about Isa Williams doesn't mean I'm courting her. I was just trying to get Mother off my back. That woman's still playing tug-o-war with the apron strings."

John chuckled reluctantly. "Make me a cup while you're at it."

Both men sat at the table for a while, speaking civilly as they sipped their coffee. Then John impatiently set his elbows on the table.

"I need you to go with me to Lufkin Wednesday."

"It's Thanksgiving this week, and I just got back from—"

"Stop that whinin' and listen," John said sharply.

Junior's teeth clacked shut, turning his jaw to granite.

"You look just like your brother," John groused, pulling his mug to him. "I need you to hold the Circle S book here until we can go. A lawyer named Carl Rafferty in Lufkin is gonna take a look at it."

Sitting stiffly in his straight-backed chair, Junior gritted out, "I told you I don't want any part of the business. I don't want the ranch."

John waved that off. "Want in one hand and spit in the other. You need to be more involved. When I die, you're the one who's gettin' everything. The ranch needs a strong hand and someone who knows how to run it. Your mama does the books, but you—you'll do everything else."

"Take Ben with you." Junior didn't give a damn about the ranch, or the book, and especially about riding to Lufkin. Nonchalantly, he picked his mug up to sip his coffee. It was a good thing he did because John slammed his fist on the table so hard that the remaining mug jumped and overturned.

"Enough! I've built a legacy, and by God, you're going to take the reins when I'm gone."

Junior wasn't daunted by the purple vein bulging in his father's forehead. He watched a trickle of coffee pool to the table's edge. "And I don't want your legacy. I'll make my own way."

John sat back in his chair. "You're plumb stupid, you know that?"

In John's eyes, everyone was stupid.

Exhausted physically and mentally, Junior took their mugs to the sink while his father lectured about his lack of ambition. But when John mentioned Loretta being embarrassed by her only son, Junior couldn't resist a little jab. "Is she embarrassed of me? Or is she embarrassed that you galivant in town with whores every weekend?"

There was an ominous, telling silence.

Recalling Isa's words at the campfire, Junior added, "You could get something catching."

The purple vein in the elder Stone's head pulsated. John stood, stormed outside, and came back with a ledger the size of Maryland. Slamming it down on the dry corner of the breakfast table, John growled, "Keep the book here, son. Let no one else see. I can't trust it at the house, and the banker in town is crooked as a barrel of snakes. We'll ride out Tuesday."

He left before Junior could get a word in edgewise.

Without sparing a second look at the Circle S ledger, Junior tossed a ragged mustard-colored dishtowel on the table spill, stumbled to his room, and crawled back into bed.