Texas Bluff

CHAPTER TWO

LUKE SPED DOWN THE ROAD to Great Oaks, the Chisum home. Huge live oaks lined the lane on both sides, their large branches intertwining and creating a canopy effect. The trees had grown on the property long before Luke was born. His great-grandmother had planted them and had named the two-story Victorian house, built by her husband.

Every time he drove beneath the trees, he felt that sense of vulnerability, just as he had in town. He’d been adopted as a newborn by the Chisums and he was always acutely aware he wasn’t a blood Chisum. His brother, Hank, made sure he never forgot that little fact.

Hank had been sixteen when Henry and Lucy had decided to adopt. Hank had resented his new brother from day one. Luke was now thirty-four and only tolerated by him, at best. The tension at home had been another reason he’d bolted for freedom, but Hank hadn’t been the catalyst that had sent Luke out into the world. Becky had. If Luke hadn’t been so eaten up with jealousy over Becky and Danny, he would never have left the Circle C or his parents.

Luke may not have been blood but his roots ran deep with the Chisums. He loved them, even Hank, though it would probably take a bottle of Jack Daniel’s to get him to admit that out loud.

Parking at the garages, Luke noticed Hank’s Ford King Ranch pickup. He’d been visiting his daughter, Chelsea, in San Antonio. Hank and his wife, Marla, were separated and Chelsea lived with her mother. He hadn’t come home the night before so maybe he and Marla were trying to work things out.

Marla was a city girl and hadn’t taken to living on a ranch. Luke had been in the military for a year when his mom had written that Marla and Chelsea had moved out for good. Hank had bought them a house and nothing had changed in that situation for fifteen years. Chelsea was now twenty-two, finishing her last year of college. Luke barely knew his niece.

Luke had to give Marla credit. She really tried, but not many people could put up with Hank’s moodiness.

Luke slipped out of his truck and took a moment to breathe in the fresh country air. He caught the scent of cypress wafting from the Medina River. Oh, yeah, he was home. Just being here gave him a sense of peace. He’d left here a boy feeling ten feet tall and bulletproof. That was a trick of his young, arrogant mind. He’d seen the world as no eighteen-year-old should—through blood and tears. He’d come back a man with his head squarely on his shoulders, knowing no one was invincible and a bullet showed no discretion.

He glanced in the direction of the barns, corrals, bunkhouse and the rolling hills beyond. Everything lay in the dormant stages of winter. Cedars, spruces and craggy ledges stood out among the bare, weblike branches of the trees. Leaves in different shades of brown blanketed the ground.

Soon spring would turn the landscape into lush hills, green valleys and sunny vistas that were stunning in their simplicity and beauty. To Luke, no place on earth could compete with the scenery in River Bluff. No place.

Cowboys were saddling up for a day on the range. Luke waved to Pee Wee, Newt, Ramrod, Hardy and Paco as they loaded hay onto a flatbed trailer. This was cowboy country. An old-fashioned way of doing things was still alive in the county, even though dude ranches were a common sight around River Bluff. But not at the Circle C. Real tobacco-chewing, bowlegged cowboys worked here.

“Hey, boy, when’s the next poker game?” Happenstance Jones, cowboy extraordinaire and ranch foreman, walked from the house, his worn boots making a shuffling noise on the pavement. At seventy-two, Hap wasn’t known for picking up his feet.

“Wednesday night.”

“Where?”

“Jake’s place.”

“Might join ya.” Hap bobbed his head up and down.

“Be happy to take your money.”

Hap snorted, laying a hand on the hood of Luke’s truck. “You just gettin’ home?”

Luke pushed back his hat. “Hap, those days of staying out all night are gone.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” Hap spit chewing tobacco on the ground. “You’re in your prime. You’d better ride that bull while you can, boy, because before you know it, you’ll be ridin’ toward eighty like me.”

Hap looked every year of his age. He had brown leathery skin from too many hours in the sun. A bony body and bowed legs added to the effect. But Luke knew his mind was still as sharp as the razor the housekeeper, Clover, made him use on the odd occasion. Most of the time he had a gray stubble and a look that was known to frighten small children.

Luke folded his arms across his chest. “Hap, I never thought you worried about age.”

“I don’t. That’s up to the good Lord. I’ll die with my boots on and a smile on my face.”

“Since I’ve never seen you smile that might be totally impossible.”

“Really?” Hap rubbed his stubble. “I’m smiling now. Can’t ya tell?”

Luke studied the strained, wrinkly face. “Nope. Looks more like you have gas.”

Hap walked off, shaking his head. “Boy don’t know nuthin’.”

Luke strolled into the house with a grin on his face. “Hey, Clover.”

Clover Jankowski, the housekeeper, turned from the sink and wiped her hands on her apron. With an ample bosom and stout body, Clover had a direct way of speaking that irritated most people. But Luke knew she had a heart of gold once you chiseled through the stony exterior.

If Hap didn’t smile, Clover was the reason. In a bad mood, she was known to be as mean as a rattlesnake, and her sharp tongue could be just as deadly.

Luke never understood their relationship. Both came from an orphanage in San Antonio and had started working on the Circle C as teenagers. Hap and Clover always had breakfast together. Trading insults was part of the menu. On Saturday nights they went dancing. Sunday mornings they attended mass together. Whatever their relationship was, it worked for them.

“You get the drops?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Took you long enough.”

Luke kissed her rounded cheek. “Thank you.”

“You should’ve been back thirty minutes ago, and don’t think you can sweeten me up with a kiss, young man.”

He shook his head. “Clo, I don’t think there’s enough sugar in the world.”

A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. “Stop foolin’ around. Your parents are waitin’ for you.”

As Luke walked into the den, he heard voices.

“Henry, please eat. You won’t get stronger if you don’t.” That was his mother’s concerned voice.

“Stop mothering me, Lu. My eyes burn and I don’t feel like eating.” His words were only slightly slurred. His speech had improved so much.

“Mom, just let Pa rest for now.” Big brother Hank always sided with their father, and it was probably the reason Henry was so stubborn at times. He knew Hank would back him if he didn’t want to do something.

Luke took in the scene. His father was sitting in his chair still in his pajamas, a shell of his former self. He’d lost so much weight Luke had hardly recognized him when he’d first returned home. Wan and frail, he was so unlike the strong, hardnosed patriarch of the Chisum family. It tore at Luke’s heart.

Breakfast sat on a TV tray and his mother wrung her hands in distress. Hank stood over them, trying to look authoritative.

Hank noticed Luke first. “It’s about damn time you showed up.”

Luke ignored him. “Lean back your head and I’ll put the drops in,” he said to his father.

Henry complied and Luke administered the required drops. After a moment, Henry sighed. “That’s better.”

Luke sat on the footstool at Henry’s feet. “Good. Now you’re going to eat breakfast.”

“Son, I’m just not…”

Luke wasn’t listening to any objections. He pushed the button on the power chair to raise his father to a sitting position, then placed the tray over his knees.

“Whole-grain cereal with a banana, muffin and fresh fruit. How does that sound?”

“Like sissy food.”

Henry favored bacon and eggs with biscuits and gravy. That kind of food wasn’t going to be on his menu anytime soon. If ever again.

“You’re not going to act like one, though, right?”

“A pissant couldn’t eat this crud.”

“Pa.”

“Ah, okay.”

Luke watched as he fumbled with the spoon, wanting to help him so badly. But Henry had to do things for himself.

“When you finish eating, you’re getting dressed.”

“What for? I’m not going anywhere.”

“I want to show you the Black Angus bulls you saved. They’ve matured and are some mighty fine animals.”

“And they’ll sire some mighty fine calves.” His dad’s voice grew excited.

“You bet.”

Henry ate a portion of the food then motioned for Luke to move the tray. “Lucy, where’s my walker?”

Luke moved the tray out of harm’s way as Lucy brought the walker. Henry shuffled toward the hall with Lucy behind him. His mother was becoming so thin. Waiting on Henry was wearing her down. He tried to relieve her of some of her chores, but she always resisted his efforts. He had to try harder.

“The miracle worker, the favorite son has returned,” Hank derided.

“Shut up, Hank.”

“What are your plans? Are you just gonna sponge off Mom and Pa?”

“Like you?” he fired back without a thought.

Hank bristled just as Luke knew he would. “I work my damn ass off to keep this ranch running. Since Pa’s stroke I’ve had to do everything. You’ve been no help whatsoever.”

He kept his cool. “I’m here to help Mom, and this is my home.”

“So that means you have no plans.”

Luke stood eye-to-eye with his brother. They were the same height with the same dark hair and eyes. Luke may not have Chisum blood but he was matched perfectly with similar features. He had age on his side, broad shoulders and tight muscles. At fifty, Hank was getting soft around the middle, but what he lacked in muscle he made up for in sheer arrogance.

“I told you I’m here to help Mom. Can’t you see how tired she is?”

“She has help. Clover’s here and Paco’s wife helps out when Mom needs her. In the morning you get your ass in the saddle ready to ride. You’ll inherit this ranch and it’s time you earned it. Everything’s been given to you on a silver platter.”

Luke didn’t rise to the bait. “You want me to be one of the hired hands?”

“Something wrong with that?”

“Damn right. You’re not giving me orders twenty-four hours a day.”

Hank scowled. “You’re a spoiled rich kid, Luke. You can’t handle the work. You can’t handle being a cowboy.”

Luke got in his face. “If I can handle a war, big brother, I can handle anything you can dish out.”

“What’s all the shoutin’ about?” Clover stood in the doorway. “I got a cast-iron skillet that can stop this arguing, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

Hank turned toward the door then swung back. “We’re putting a new fence between us and the Parker place. It’s been down for some time. Do you think you could dredge up enough energy to ride over and tell the Parkers?”

Several objections popped into his head like red flags, but he didn’t voice them. The mere thought of old Sheriff Parker made him feel eighteen and afraid. It wasn’t a fear of the man himself. It was that he’d proved the man right. Luke wasn’t worthy of his daughter.

“I’m sure the Parkers can figure out what’s going on without me telling them.”

“Since the fence has been down, Becky’s kid rides his all-terrain vehicle on our property. If he doesn’t know the fence is up, he’ll fly through there and the barbed wire will rip him to shreds. Is that what you want?”

Luke clenched his jaw until his head hurt, but Hank took his silence as an affirmative answer. He’d rather do anything than go over to the Parkers’. Becky lived with her father, so she’d be there. A polite phone call would work just as well. Besides, seeing Becky twice in one day was more than his blood pressure could take.

LUKE KEPT HIS DAD OUT on the ranch, determined he wasn’t going to sit in the house all day. They looked at the young bulls and his dad was excited, taking an interest. After lunch, Luke took him to see the paint horses, his dad’s pet project.

The horses were kept separate from the cattle operation in their own pasture, corral and barn. Luke stopped the truck, helped his dad out and they walked to the pipe fence.

A brown-and-white stallion threw up his head and stood on his hind legs. “Cochise needs to be ridden,” Henry said. “It’ll take some of that fire out of him.”

Cochise pranced along the fence line. The tobiano paint had a white star on his forehead, and showed a marked degree of refinement and beauty in his strong-boned and well-balanced body. Paints were known for their distinctive coat pattern. Cochise’s face, neck, chest, belly and one flank were brown. The rest of his coat was white, including four stocking feet.

Luke hoped he was seeing the beautiful colors correctly, but he still had a problem distinguishing the hues of reds and greens. It was a minor disability compared to what other soldiers had to deal with.

And it was a whole lot better than dying.

Leaning on the fence, he thought it strange that when he looked at Becky, he saw her in brilliant color. Could that be from memory? He quickly brushed the question away.

He glanced at his dad. “I’ll ask the doctor when you can start riding again.”

Henry grunted. “Not anytime soon. Can barely use my arm and leg.”

“That’ll improve, just like your speech has.”

“Maybe. But I want you to ride Cochise.”

“Sure. I’ll give him a workout.”

His dad grew tired and Luke drove him back to the house. Lucy met them at the door.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” she asked eagerly.

“Don’t fuss, Lu.” Henry slumped into his chair. “Bring me a cup of coffee.”

“I’ll get it,” Luke said. His dad had a tendency to bellow orders at his mother and it kept her running all day.

When he carried the coffee to him, Henry was asleep. Luke set it on the TV tray.

“He’s just worn-out,” Lucy said.

“That’s good for him.”

Lucy suddenly hugged Luke around his waist. A petite woman, her head barely came to his shoulders. “I’m glad you’re home. Henry responds to you. Hank makes him so angry.”

Luke hugged her back. Except for Becky, he’d missed his mom the most while he’d been away from home. “The past few months have been rough on everyone.”

“Yes.” Lucy glanced at her husband. “He’s just been so depressed. I was thinking of calling Becky to see if I needed to speak to the doctor about it.”

“Mom, you don’t have to speak to Becky. Just call the doctor.” It irritated him that she depended on Becky for advice.

His mother frowned at him. “What’s wrong with talking to Becky?”

“Nothing.” He grabbed his hat and swung toward the door. “I gotta go. Dad wants me to ride Cochise.”

“You be careful. That horse has a mean streak,” Lucy called after him.

Not like some of the enemies he’d faced, he thought as he strolled toward the barn. Enemies who’d hated him and wanted him and his fellow soldiers dead. But his mom didn’t need to know that.

Cochise resisted the bridle, prancing around. After calming the horse, Luke saddled up. Cochise flung up his head, standing on his hind legs. Luke was prepared and they shot out of the barn like a rocket. Luke let him run, enjoying the wind on his face and the speed beneath him.

He slowed the horse to a trot as they neared the Parker place. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a four wheeler fly by. The all-terrain vehicle zoomed over hills and rocky ledges then suddenly flipped, throwing the rider into the winter weeds.

Luke galloped toward the prone boy and swung from the saddle. Becky’s son lay completely still. Luke checked the pulse in his neck. There was a steady beat. Thank God.

As Luke took a deep breath, the boy stirred. “Ooooh.”

“Don’t move, kid,” Luke ordered. “Let me check and see if anything’s broken.” He moved his hands over the boy’s body. Nothing seemed broken. Holding Shane’s head, he helped him to sit up. “You okay?”

“Oh, man.” Shane stared at the four wheeler on its side, smoke billowing from the motor. “Grandpa’s gonna beat me black and blue.”

Luke frowned. “Does your grandfather hit you?”

“What?” Shane shook his head, still in a daze. “Heck, no. It just…You’d have to know my grandpa to understand. When I’ve done something wrong, he has a look on his face that makes me wish he’d just hit me. But if anyone touched me, my grandpa would kill them.”

Luke knew the feeling very well. Subconsciously he rubbed his jaw where he’d felt the full ire of Sheriff Parker.

Shane stood, brushed dirt from his jeans and sweatshirt then walked over to the wrecked vehicle. “Ah, man. We just fixed it. I guess I’d better go and tell him.”

Luke jerked the four wheeler into an upright position and observed the damages. The left front fender was smashed into a tire.

“You just have to fix a fender,” Luke told him. “The tire looks okay.”

“Yeah, and Grandpa will make me pay for it. At this rate I’ll never get a truck.”

Luke adjusted his adult thinking hat. “You were going a little fast.”

Those blue eyes drilled into him. “You’re not gonna lecture me about speed, are you?”

“Would it help?”

“No. You’re Luke Chisum. You tried to see if your Mustang would fly.”

Luke winced. “You’ve heard that story?”

“Sure. Everybody in River Bluff has.”

“Well, take it from an expert—speed could get you killed.”

Luke wondered what the kid would say if he told him his mother was the reason he’d attempted such a thing. After high school graduation, he and his buddies had had a poker party with a keg of beer. Luke had kept drinking to get Becky and Danny out of his mind. He’d lost big that night.

His parents had given him a new Mustang for graduation. Afterward he was bragging to his buddies how fast it could go. He went a step further and told them he could make it fly. They called his bluff. After that there was no stopping him. When his friends realized he was stone drunk and serious, they tried to talk sense into him, to no avail.

The Mustang sailed off a rocky crevice into the Medina River. The river broke his fall, and he had minor cuts and bruises. He spent three days in the hospital and Becky never came to see him. That hurt more than his battered body.

When he was released, he knew he had to leave River Bluff or he was going to kill himself with stupidity. So he’d enlisted, and he often wondered why he felt a need to live life on the edge—in a danger zone.

“I’d better go tell my mom and Grandpa.” Shane’s words brought him back to the present.

“Come on, kid.” Luke grabbed Cochise’s reins. “I’ll give you a ride.”

“On the paint?” Shane’s eyes grew big.

“You bet.”

“Wow.”

Luke swung into the saddle, reached out his hand to Shane and pulled him up behind him. “Hold on.” Luke dug in his heels and Cochise sped away.

The horse covered the ground to the Parker place in minutes and Luke braced himself for another confrontation with Becky.

BECKY CAME OUT the back door, looking at her watch. “Dad, have you seen Shane? He needs to start his homework.”

Hub Parker glanced up from putting tools away. At seventy, he was still a tall, big man, but his muscles now sagged and his face was etched into a permanent frown. As a child and young girl, she’d done everything to please her father. He’d been bigger than life. Since her mother had died, he’d been the center of her world—until Luke. She’d disappointed her father in a way no girl should, but he’d been there for her when she’d needed him the most.

Hub wiped his hands on a rag. “We got the four wheeler running and he’s giving it a spin.”

Becky looked to the east. “I hope he’s not riding on Chisum land. Hank doesn’t like him to frighten the cattle.”

“Shane knows better.”

The words no sooner left her dad’s mouth than they saw the horse and riders.

“Oh, no,” slipped from her throat.

Hub touched her shoulder. “Stay calm, girl.”

Becky ran to the horse, knowing something was wrong. Shane slid to the ground and she saw his skinned face and hand. “What happened?” Pushing back Shane’s hair, she examined his face.

Shane pulled away. “I’m fine, Mom.”

“What happened?”

“Now don’t have a cow. I wrecked the wheeler.”

Fear turned her stomach. “Are you okay?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

Luke stood beside her and a familiar heat emanated from his body. Instinctively she moved away, closer to her son. “Were you riding on Chisum land?”

Shane shifted his feet. “Yeah. Now you can have a cow.”

She gritted her teeth and managed to keep her cool. “Go to the house.”

“Mo-o-om.”

“Go. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Shane hung his head and slowly made his way to the house. Her father met him.

“Boy, you just never learn.”

“I’m sorry, Grandpa.”

Shane glanced toward Luke and a look passed between them. What did that mean? Her son didn’t even know Luke. Did he? For the first time, Becky felt her parental control slipping.

Shane disappeared inside and her father said, “I’ll go get the four wheeler.” He headed for his truck.

Taking a breath, she turned and faced Luke. “Thank you for bringing him home. I’ll make sure he stays off Chisum property.”

He frowned. “Is that a hard, fast rule around here? I remember a time when you rode freely from one property to the other.”

Unable to answer, she swung toward the house. Luke caught her arm. Don’t touch me, her inner voice screamed. Outwardly she stared down at the strong fingers closed around her skin. Fingers she remembered well. Fingers that had stroked, caressed and taught her about love. For months she’d been fighting this very thing, but with just a touch, his touch, the past connected to the present.