Читать книгу Son of a Gun - Joanna Wayne - Страница 10

Prologue

Damien Lambert worked the curry comb in a circular motion, talking to King as he did. The black steed stood contentedly even though thunder growled continuously and zigzagging bolts of lightning split the sky, the glaring streaks of light visible through the open barn doors.

The other horses in the barn were also calmed by Damien’s soothing voice and company. Only Jolie, his mother’s pale gray quarter horse, pawed the hay-covered dirt as if she knew something about the approaching storm they didn’t.

Normally, Damien appreciated a good thunderstorm. It watered the pastures and refilled the creeks. The fierceness even had a way of clearing the air, a release of the occasional friction that erupted between him and his father. At times the two locked horns so tightly that Damien didn’t see how they could keep working together in the same state, much less on the same ranch.

Hugh Lambert. Bigger than life. A man who swore like a sailor, liked his bourbon a little too much at times and who’d go up against any politician with rhetoric, clout and his considerable wealth if he thought their policies interfered with him running his spread or his oil company as he saw fit.

But Hugh was also a man who’d fire his best wrangler or even a foreman in a second if he found they’d mistreated an animal. And even in the business world, he was a man whose word and handshake were as binding as a contract.

Damien had grown to appreciate that more and more as he’d matured. And when his father wasn’t reaming him out, Damien realized how lucky he was to have Hugh as a father. It had made him the man he was. Independent, tough and thick-skinned.

A clap of thunder fired like an explosion. Apprehension surfaced and weighed on Damien’s mind. His father and some of his ranching buddies had flown by private jet to the Cowboys/Cardinals game in Arizona. That would put their return flight straight in the path of the storm.

But they’d run into weather like this enough times that they knew the risk. When the weather warranted, the pilot landed the plane in any small airport in their path or else postponed the trip home until the next day.

Damien finished currying King and was brushing him down when he heard his brother Tague yelling for him. By the time Damien reached the barn door, Tague was standing there, out of breath, panic rolling off him like the dust the wind had kicked up.

“It’s Dad.” Tague’s words were shaky and barely audible.

Anxiety pitted in Damien’s stomach. “What happened?”

“The plane crashed.” Tague slumped against the door.

“Where?”

“Somewhere in West Texas.”

Damien felt something crack inside him, and he held on to a post for support. “How did you find out?”

“Sheriff Garcia is at the house. Dad’s dead, Damien.” Panic tore at Tague’s voice. “Mother’s just standing there. She’s not even crying, but her eyes…they look like she’s dying, too.”

Adrenaline bucked off the paralyzing shock. Damien took off running. He thought he heard Tague’s footsteps behind him, but he didn’t slow down or wait for his youngest brother. His dad couldn’t be dead. This was all some horrible mistake. They’d find that out later, but his mother needed Damien now.