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as a legacy for the blood son he’d never acknowledged in life.
    Sky had ridden across the land in the past, admiring its grassy, wooded hills and spring-fed creek, never dreaming it could be his. But since the reading of the will he had yet to revisit the place. He was still coming to terms with the gift Bull Tyler had left him.
    Except for Jasper, no one else, not even Will and Beau, knew about the land. At first Sky had questioned whether he deserved it. Now he found himself wondering if he even wanted it. He could sell it for a good price, return the money to the ranch, and be free of any obligation to the father who’d been too ashamed to claim him as his own. He had his pride, after all.
    But the decision would have to wait. This morning he’d agreed to ride out with Beau to look at the place where Jasper had been shot. It was time they got moving.
    He was walking out to get the horses when Will hailed him from the front porch. “Sky! Get in here! You’ve got to see what’s on the news!”
    Spurred by the urgency in his voice, Sky sprinted across the yard to the house. Will was already headed back inside. “Hurry,” he said. “The TV’s on in the den.”
    The commercial break was just ending when Sky walked in.
    Beau, still rumpled and unshaven, was perched on the edge of the couch, drinking coffee and staring at the television screen. Will, freshly showered and dressed, handed Sky a steaming cup.
    â€œBack to our breaking news story.” The Amarillo newscaster was a fiftyish man with a bad toupee. “Former Blanco County Sheriff Hoyt Axelrod, awaiting trial for murder, assault, and conspiracy, was found dead inside his cell this morning. The cause of death has yet to be determined, but there appeared to be no sign of foul play. For more, let’s go to Mindi Thacker outside the Blanco County Jail.”
    The curvy blonde looked as if she’d done her hair and makeup in the news chopper, which sat on the landing pad behind her. Her porcelain smile seemed out of place in the grim dawn light. “The story’s still unfolding here, Bill. A guard, making a routine check of the prisoners early this morning, found Axelrod lying on the floor of his cell. Paramedics were called, but the former sheriff was unresponsive. He was declared dead at 4:43 a.m. Preliminary assumption, pending the medical examiner’s report, is that death was due to natural causes.”
    â€œNatural causes!” Beau slammed his cup on the table, sloshing his coffee. “That’s a joke! Somebody got to the bastard before he could make a plea deal and talk.”
    â€œIn his cell? That would take some doing,” Will said.
    â€œThat doesn’t mean it couldn’t be done. A man Axelrod’s size and age is a likely candidate for high blood pressure or diabetes. A switch in his meds would do the trick, or something in his food, even some kind of injection if they could incapacitate him first. Not that much to it—just a matter of enough money changing hands.”
    Sky’s gaze met Beau’s across the room. Nobody in the ranch family would grieve over Axelrod’s death—least of all Beau, who’d nearly gone to prison when the sheriff tried to frame him for killing Slade Haskell, Natalie’s abusive husband.
    â€œYou know this isn’t over,” Beau said. “Hoyt Axelrod died for the same reason Slade died, the same reason Lute and that poor little waitress died. He knew too much, and he would’ve spilled his guts to save himself from the death penalty. That’s why he had to be silenced.”
    â€œBut it was Axelrod who killed the others.” Will seemed to be playing devil’s advocate.
    â€œThis is bigger than Axelrod,” Beau said. “Whoever’s pulling the strings is still out there.”
    Â 
    Stella Rawlins turned away from the big-screen TV above the bar and lit a Marlboro to celebrate. Hoyt Axelrod