“Well, I don’t know where you’re getting your information from, Commander, and I wouldn’t be one to tell you your business, but I got to tell you that I don’t see how that could be. Tyrel McHenry won’t ever win no awards for being the friendliest man in these parts, but he’s one of the most law-abiding I know of. He wouldn’t have nothing to do with the likes of the Purple Royals.”
Will leaned back in his chair. “Shel’s coming home for some leave.”
“Don’t see what you need me to do, Commander. If you need something, you’re gonna have to just up and ask.”
“Victor Gant had a son who was guilty of attacking a Marine,” Will said. “Shel went to arrest him. The bust went south, and Shel ended up killing the son. Shel nearly got killed doing it.”
“I take it Victor Gant ain’t the forgiving type.”
“No. He and his men made an attempt on Shel today. Shel and another one of my agents left three of the bikers dead.”
“None of them was Victor Gant?”
“No.”
“That there’s a shame. Probably would have saved you some trouble.”
“I think so too,” Will agreed. “Now here’s the interesting part. When we investigated Victor Gant’s background, we found out he was in Vietnam at the same time Tyrel McHenry was.”
“They knew each other back then?”
“We don’t know that for sure. But we’re confident Gant has made the tie to Shel’s father.”
“And you’re thinking Gant and his boys might take a run at Tyrel McHenry?”
“I have to wonder why Shel decided to take leave suddenly and go back home.”
“Well, I’ll tell you one thing,” Conover said, “and I’ll guarantee it. If Gant decides to take on Tyrel McHenry, you might not have any more worries. In this county, there ain’t many that come any tougher than Tyrel McHenry. That man’s harder than a pawnbroker’s heart and rougher than tree bark.”
Will smiled at that. “I guess Shel didn’t fall far from the tree.”
“Maybe not in some ways,” Conover agreed. “But Shelton-for all them daredevil ways of his-has got a good heart. And Don? Why he’s the salt of the earth. Good people. Tyrel McHenry’s a horse of another color.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s something soured inside that man,” Conover said. “That’s the best I can explain it. He’s hard and distant. Never got too close to his family. I think that’s one of the reasons Shel was such a challenge to the straight and narrow. He was just trying to earn his daddy’s respect. Or maybe get his attention.”
Will remembered the gentle face of the young Army private that Tyrel McHenry had been.
“Some think it was the Vietnam War that changed Tyrel McHenry,” Conover said. “Ever since he came back from there, folks who knew him said he’d changed. When he was younger, he was something of an outgoing man. A lot like Shel, I’ve been told. And he cared about people. Went out of his way to help them and get to know them a little. While his wife was alive, he was more sociable. You couldn’t exactly warm up to him, but at least he was around. Nowadays, he’s pretty much a hermit. Don’t nobody go out to the Rafter M that don’t have business there.”
“How isolated is the ranch?” Will asked.
“Sets off to itself, that’s a fact,” Conover said. “And Tyrel runs it pretty much by himself.”
That didn’t sound good.
“If Victor Gant does come gunning for Tyrel, that could be a problem.” Conover paused. “Tell you what I can do. I’ll have a couple of my deputies take regular runs out that way. Maybe keep an eye on things. If something comes up, what’s the best way to get hold of you?”
Will gave the man his cell phone number.
“Very good, Commander. Though I hope I don’t have to use this,” Conover said.
“Me too,” Will said.
39
›› Rafter M Ranch
›› Outside Fort Davis, Texas
›› 1646 Hours (Central Time Zone)
Even at a distance, Shel could pick out the Rafter M property lines.
There was something about the land that tied a man to it. No matter how determined a man was, he couldn’t fully escape the area where he grew up. Men Shel had met in the service who’d grown up in metropolitan areas were often marked by those environments as well. Even before Shel had joined the NCIS, he’d learned that if a man knew what to look for, he could tell a lot about where another person grew up just by watching.
He stopped the rental car a quarter mile from the turnoff to the narrow rutted road that led up to the ranch house where he’d grown up. He told himself that he was just getting out to stretch from the long drive and from all the hours spent in airplanes and airports. Given that he’d made the trip so suddenly, he hadn’t been able to secure a straight shot home. He’d also had two long layovers waiting on standby for last-minute flights.
He wore jeans, a pair of his favorite cowboy boots that were worked in and comfortable, a Texas Rangers ball cap he’d bought to knock the sun off, a brown USMC T-shirt, his pistol on his hip, and sunglasses. He’d shaved in the airport bathroom to keep himself clean-looking but also just for something to do.
Max got out of the car and put his nose to the ground. It didn’t take the dog long to find a jackrabbit lazing in the shade and avoiding the blistering heat. Max slowly closed on the rabbit, and it waited until the last minute to make its break. The rabbit exploded from the ground, kicked out at Max with its powerful back legs, and zipped across the countryside in a broken field sprint. Max tried to follow, but he had too much mass and kept overrunning his target.
In spite of the tension he felt, Shel grinned at the sight. There weren’t many things that could catch a Texas jackrabbit.
Less than a minute later, the rabbit came to a stop atop a hill in the shade of a thicket of Indian paintbrush. The bright red blossoms stood out against the dry brush. The plant was also called prairie fire, but Shel had always known it as Indian paintbrush. His mama had loved it.
For a moment he got caught up in his emotions. Losing his mama had been hard. But it hadn’t been hard just on him. Don and their daddy had suffered as well. Their daddy had never talked about it though. Shel had sometimes wondered if his father had just accepted his mama’s death as something to be expected.
Tyrel McHenry had never been a man to expect much out of life. Or at least he’d never given the appearance of being one.
Shel looked up at the bright blue sky. The cap’s bill shaded his eyes.
Did you know Daddy was a murderer, Mama? Shel asked. Did he tell you? Or did he keep that secret from you too?
He knew there was no way of knowing. His mama had kept secrets when there was a need. She’d kept a few of Shel’s. At the time he’d been grateful. She’d had to come get him out of jail once, and she’d paid a handful of speeding tickets for Shel without ever telling her husband. Things had been hard enough at home with Tyrel McHenry keeping the distance from his boys. Having those scrapes with the law would have only fanned the fire.
But even as he asked that question and got no answer, Shel understood that he didn’t know whether his daddy was a murderer. He just had Victor Gant’s voice in his head saying that. Over and over again. Those words had haunted Shel since he’d left Camp Lejeune.
How could you be raised by a man and never know enough about him? Shel wondered. In the end, though, he suspected that’s the way it always was between daddies and sons. Probably between mamas and daughters, too. Sons and daughters just assumed they knew everything, and parents didn’t reveal everything in their lives because they didn’t want to be vulnerable in the eyes of their children.
Max sidled up the hill like he was just wandering around, then made another run at the rabbit.
As trained as he was, the Labrador couldn’t give up being a dog.
