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“So then what?”
“When Bull got back from Mexico a couple days later, Ferg was waitin’ for him with the sheriff to arrest Bull for Ham’s murder. Ferg claimed that Ham had named Bull as his killer.”
Rose stifled a gasp. “But why would Ham lie about that, especially when he was dying?”
Jasper shrugged. “Maybe he didn’t lie. Or maybe he never said a damned thing. But as long as nobody knew for sure, Ferg could pin Bull to the wall, like he’s always wanted to do.”
“But why wouldn’t Bull just tell the truth? I was out of the country, where the law couldn’t reach me.”
Jasper rolled another cigarette from the makings in his shirt pocket. “This is where it gets complicated. Bull lucked onto a sharp lawyer, an old geezer named Ned Purvis. Ned advised Bull to take the blame and plead self-defense.”
“But why? Bull didn’t shoot Ham Prescott. I did.”
“I know. But by Purvis’s reckoning, no jury would’ve believed that a fourteen-year-old girl, who was gone without a trace, had pulled the trigger. And he was right. It took some doin’ to prove that Ham had drawn his gun, but when the pistol finally turned up at the scene, Bull was acquitted. Self-defense. Pure and simple. And you’re in the clear.”
“So it’s over.”
“Dead and buried, just like old Ham.”
“How many people know the truth?”
“Ned Purvis passed away five years ago. Susan would’ve known, but she’s gone, too. That leaves just you, me, and Bull.”
“What about Ferg?”
Jasper lit the cigarette and took a long drag. “Let’s say, just to speculate, that Ham told him the truth. For Ferg to accuse you now would be to admit he lied eleven years ago. Besides, Ferg’s hands weren’t exactly clean that night. We know enough to smear his reputation, even if it’s too late to send him to jail.”
“But there’s no statute of limitations on murder. If the truth came out, where would I stand in the eyes of the law?”
“The evidence that saved Bull—the fact that Ham had drawn a gun—would save you, too. So don’t worry your pretty head about it.”
Rose finished the beer, then laughed. “You’re probably the first man to call me pretty, Jasper. Most of the men in Río Seco called me a witch.”
“Then they were superstitious fools.” Jasper stroked the dog that had nosed his hand for attention. “So what’s your plan now that you’re back?”
“To claim my land and live on it. Is that going to be a problem?”
“With Bull?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you’re going to have a fight on your hands. Bull’s a good man, but when it comes to land, it’s like he’s got a bit in his teeth and a burr under his saddle. If you could make some kind of deal, maybe a partnership—”
“No deal.” Rose stood. “That land is mine. My grandfather left it to me. Bull may’ve had the use of it, but now it’s time for him to give it back. I won’t settle for anything less.”
Jasper tossed away his cigarette and rose to go inside. “Then Lord help you, darlin’. And Lord help Bull, too. You’re both going to need it.”
* * *
After a beastly night of tossing and turning, Bull rolled out of bed and pulled on his clothes and boots. It was barely light, too early to call the Rangers’ office about the rustlers. But maybe he could get a start on chores, freeing Jasper to leave for the roundup with the men who’d come down to the ranch.
After splashing his unshaven face and raking back his hair, which was already showing strands of gray, he strode down the hall to the kitchen, where he found Jasper at the table drinking the coffee he’d made. There was a kitchenette in the duplex, but after years of breakfast in the big house, Jasper had never broken the old habit.
“Have some coffee,” he said to Bull. “There’s scrambled eggs and bacon on the stove if you want something solid. From the look of you, you could use it.”
“Didn’t sleep,” Bull grumbled, pouring himself a cup. “So, did you talk to Rose last night?”
“We visited some.” Jasper forked up the last of the scrambled eggs on his plate. “She mostly wanted to know what happened after she shot Ham.”
