Shifting Calder Wind

by Janet Dailey

  “The thought counts for something,” Jessy replied, feeling suddenly mentally weary.

  As if sensing it, Monte reached out and gathered her into the loose circle of his arms. “You have been through so much, Jessy.” He nestled her head against his shoulder and rested his chin atop it. The embrace was too reminiscent of one of her brothers wrapping her in their arms in a gesture of comfort for Jessy to raise any objection to it. “I don’t know how you keep your head up sometimes.”

  “I guess it’s knowing that this too shall pass.” When she drew back, Monte made no attempt to hold her.

  Just then something registered in her side vision—something that shouldn’t be there. She glanced past Monte’s shoulder and saw Laredo standing motionless in the doorway, steel-blue eyes regarding her without expression.

  Shock held her motionless for no more than an instant, but it was long enough for Monte to realize something had distracted her. As his arms fell away from her, he made a half-turn and glanced toward the hall.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Laredo said in a bland voice. “You left a message that you wanted to see me.”

  “I did, yes,” Jessy confirmed, quick to adopt a brisk, businesslike pose. “Would you mind excusing us, Monte?”

  “Not at all.” He was quick to agree, but the glance he darted between them was clearly curious. “No problems at the feedlot, I hope?”

  “No sir,” Laredo replied. “Your cattle are fed and fit.”

  “My mother is in the kitchen, Monte,” Jessy told him. “Why don’t you see if you can persuade her to brew you some tea?”

  “I’ll do that.” With a parting nod to Jessy, Monte exited the den with a jaunty stride.

  Laredo was slow to enter, letting his gaze wander over the room’s interior, taking note of the old map on the wall and the set of sweeping horns mounted above the fireplace. He came to a stop a few feet from her, his roaming glance finally pausing on her.

  “What’s the problem?” He didn’t say a word about seeing Monte’s arms around her, but, innocent though the gesture had been, she sensed his disapproval.

  It made her angry. Jessy didn’t feel she owed him any explanation and she refused to offer one. “I thought you should know that Logan asked me last night if you always carried a hideaway in your boot.”

  His eyebrows went up slightly. “The man has sharp eyes.”

  “I thought I should warn you about that, and I knew it would be easier for you to get away than it would be for me.”

  Laredo nodded in understanding, turning thoughtful. “I guess I’ll have to go around naked for awhile. Maybe it will make him wonder if he really saw what he thought he did.” He paused, his glance tunneling into her. “Has Cat said anything more?”

  “No.”

  From the front entryway came the chatter of voices. Jessy recognized Cat’s voice among them. “You’d better get back to work,” she said, wishing he had left before Cat returned.

  “I’ll do that.” He crossed to the door, paused, and turned back, showing a marked unconcern for Cat’s presence. “By the way, you were right. Duke didn’t remember Sally.”

  With that he disappeared into the hall, but his place was almost immediately taken by Cat.

  “Who is Duke? Another family friend?” Cat inquired. Her green eyes glittered with challenge.

  “Personally I don’t know him. I think Chase did.” Constant practice had allowed the lies to come easily. “Did you choose a plot for Sally?”

  In the end it was decided to bury Sally next to her late husband, thus avoiding any future questions as to why she wasn’t. The only townspeople to make the long drive to the Triple C for the funeral were those who were long-time residents of Blue Moon. All the rest of the mourners were from the ranch except for Monte Markham and Tara.

  To Jessy’s relief, Laredo stayed away. Still fewer mourners chose to attend the reception at The Homestead following the graveside service.

  As always at such gatherings, small or large, the men gravitated to one area and the women to another, with the children running about to claim all. Jessy stood on the outer fringes of one group of women and feigned an interest in their discussion. In truth, she had no idea what they were talking about. She was too distracted by the sight of Cat and Tara with their heads together.

  Ever since she arrived for the funeral, Tara had barely left Cat’s side. Judging from the glances the two women kept sliding in her direction, Jessy guessed that she was the topic of their conversation. And she had no difficulty imagining that it was in connection with her position as head of the Triple C. She wouldn’t have been surprised if Tara had twisted things around to insinuate that she hadn’t done enough to prevent Sally’s death, even though it was obvious to everyone else that Sally’s health had seriously deteriorated.

  Jessy thought again about the note Chase had written for Cat’s benefit. There simply hadn’t been any opportunity for Jessy to show it to Cat these last couple of days. Jessy decided it was time to make that opportunity. Immediately a calm settled over her.

  With no hesitation, Jessy left the small group and crossed the living room to Cat and Tara. They stopped talking the instant she was within earshot.

  “Excuse me, Cat,” Jessy began smoothly. “Would you mind stepping into the den with me for a few minutes? I have something I want to show you.”

  “What is it?” Cat asked, coolly indifferent.

  “Something I found in the desk,” Jessy replied.

  Confident that Cat’s natural curiosity would force her to follow, Jessy moved toward the den. She walked directly to the desk, opened a side drawer and removed the handwritten note from its keeping place. She wasn’t at all surprised to see Tara had come along with Cat. She had expected it.

  “Here.” She held out the note to Cat. “I ran across this the other day when I was looking through one of the drawers. It may not change your opinion, but it reassured me about the decision I made to lease the feedlot.”

  Clearly skeptical and a little wary, Cat took the paper from her and unfolded it. Tara inched in closer to peer over her shoulder.

  “I think you’ll agree that is your father’s handwriting,” Jessy added for good measure.

  After skimming the note, Tara moved a step away from Cat. “Exactly what are you trying to suggest, Jessy?” she challenged, clearly unimpressed by what she had read. “It’s nothing but disjointed scribblings.”

  Jessy waited a beat, but Cat made no comment and continued to study the notations. “I’m not attempting to suggest anything. It’s what the note suggests—that Chase appeared to be considering operating the feedlot. It looks like he might even have been thinking about leasing it, thus enabling him to receive a return and eliminate any risk. Which is the same decision I made.”

  “And you managed to interpret all that from those few scratchings,” Tara mocked. “Isn’t it possible someone was trying to sell him on the idea, and he idly made notes of the conversation with no intention of doing anything at all?”

  “Of course, it’s possible.” The suggestion immediately prompted Jessy to think about Monte and the vague suspicions both Chase and Laredo had voiced about him. It made her wonder if Monte had raised the possibility to Chase of leasing the lot and been turned down flat.

  She felt sure that Chase would have said something to her at the time if Monte had. But it was also possible he wouldn’t.

  “I wouldn’t pay any attention to that note if I were you, Cat,” Tara declared, positively gloating over the concession she had obtained from Jessy. “It means absolutely nothing. You might as well tear it up and throw it away.”

  “No, I think I’ll keep it.” Cat refolded the note, still deep in thought, then glanced at Jessy. “Do you mind?”

  “No, you can have it.” Jessy knew she hadn’t convinced Cat of anything, but she had made her wonder. That, in itself, was a victory of sorts. “Tara is right, though. It only means what we want it to mean. I know how I read it. You made me doubt the
other day that I had made the best decision for the Triple C. I’m convinced now that my reasoning was sound. I know you see it as a betrayal, but to me, it was strictly a business decision. And this is a business, Cat. Your father taught me that.”

  “So you told me,” Cat replied.

  The coolness was still there, but it didn’t seem to have that combative edge. Jessy thought there was a distinct possibility they had arrived at an undeclared cease-fire. Time, that was all she hoped to gain, sufficient time for Chase to recover his memory, identify his killer, and take over the reins of the Triple C once more.

  “Here you are, Jessy. I should have known you would be in the den.” Monte halted a foot inside the room, hesitating at the sight of Cat and Tara. “Am I interrupting something?”

  “Not at all,” Tara declared with a regal lift of her head. “We were just leaving, weren’t we, Cat?”

  Cat’s only response was a nod and an exiting turn. Tara walked with her, then paused to lay a hand on Monte’s arm. “We must get together sometime soon. Perhaps for dinner at Dunshill one evening next week?”

  “Perhaps,” Monte replied, committing himself to nothing.

  Tara didn’t press for a more definite answer, threw a brief look at Jessy that was full of veiled warning, and went after Cat.

  “Am I wrong, or are you having some in-law problems?” Monte ventured then hastened to add, “I wouldn’t have said anything, but the atmosphere in here was electric. It stopped me the moment I walked in.”

  “It usually is, whenever Tara and I are in the same room.” Jessy could have let the subject drop with that, but there was still that question in her mind as to whether Monte had talked to Chase about leasing the feedlot. “In this case, Cat was questioning whether we should have signed the lease agreement with you. Needless to say, Tara took an opposing view.”

  “What a surprise,” Monte murmured in a dry voice.

  “Exactly.” Her smile was wide with amusement. Then she cocked her head questioningly. “By any chance, did you ever talk to Chase about leasing the feedlot?”

  “No, of course not.” He reacted with surprise. “I intended to, but I never quite got around to it. Why would you ask?” he added with a slightly puzzled frown.

  “I ran across some notations Chase had made.” She gestured toward the desk. “It looked like he might have been weighing the pros and cons of either leasing it or starting it up himself.”

  “Really.” His expression was one of curious interest.

  “Naturally I thought you had been talking to him.”

  “Of course you would.” Monte was quick to agree. “It’s the logical assumption. But, on my oath”—he automatically raised his right hand—“I never said a word to him about it.”

  “I’m sure you didn’t. It’s probably nothing more than an odd coincidence.”

  “Now I’m curious. You don’t still have his notes, do you? I would be interested to see what he wrote.”

  Jessy shook her head. “No, I gave the paper to Cat. There was no reason for me to keep it, and it meant something to her since it was in her father’s handwriting.”

  “It’s amazing, isn’t it,” he murmured with a tinge of sadness, “how trivial items suddenly become treasured mementoes after the loss of a loved one.”

  “It always seems to happen that way,” Jessy agreed.

  “Speaking of trivial things,” Monte began, “how are you progressing in your search for a horse for Trey? I think I may have found a suitable mount for him if you are still looking.”

  “As a matter of fact, Dad mentioned yesterday that he had one he wanted me to see.”

  “It’s a good thing I asked, and saved myself a bit of embarrassment later. I shall never forget the shock I felt that day when Trey announced that the pony wasn’t big enough to ride.”

  They shared their separate recollections about the incident. The passage of time allowed them both to have a good laugh over it. Privately Jessy marveled at how much more relaxed she felt now that she had delivered Chase’s note to Cat. She felt confident that it had achieved the desired result. Tara could do all the lobbying she wanted, but Cat had a mind of her own, one that Tara wouldn’t find easy to sway.

  With that complication out of the way, Jessy hoped things might go more smoothly now. But it was a hope that turned out to be short-lived.

  After the last of the guests had left The Homestead, her parents and two other ranch wives stayed behind to help with the cleanup. While making a sweep through the rooms, Jessy spotted a coffee cup that had been left on a windowsill in the dining room. She picked it up and glanced around for any other stray item. Her father came through the room on his way to the kitchen, a stack of sandwich plates in his hand.

  He stopped when he saw her. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, Jessy, how come Logan was asking so many questions today about that new man you hired, Laredo Smith?”

  “What kind of questions?” she asked, her stomach suddenly churning.

  “General things . . . where he worked before—stuff like that. ’Course nobody could tell him much because Smith hasn’t been here long enough for anybody to know much about him.” He gave her a half-worried look. “What do you know about him, Jess?”

  “I know he’s a good man and a good worker. We’ve never asked any more than that at the Triple C.” It was another one of those old codes that was still followed on the ranch; nobody delved too deeply into a man’s background.

  Stumpy Niles nodded in agreement. “Logan sure is questioning, though,” he said.

  “Maybe, but I know Chase . . . thought highly of him.” Jessy almost forgot to put it in the past tense. “That’s all the recommendation I need.”

  “You’re right there,” he said and headed for the kitchen.

  Jessy knew that one of these times she would get tripped up by a little slip of the tongue. She also knew that if her father had noticed all the questions Logan was asking, other ranch hands had as well. Which meant they would be watching Laredo more closely than they might otherwise have.

  She sighed, convinced that this entire situation had more knots in it than a green bronc on a frosty morning. It was going to require skillful riding to not get bucked off.

  Dust motes danced in the shaft of morning sunlight that poured through the kitchen window. Culley observed their erratic movements, aware as he always was of all things around him no matter how small and insignificant. Cat belonged in neither category. Most mornings she gabbed away like a magpie, but this wasn’t one of them.

  She stood at the counter, methodically spooning cookie dough onto a baking sheet. Culley poured himself another cup of coffee and lingered by the pot to watch her.

  “Not many folks showed up fer Sally’s funeral the other day,” he remarked.

  “No.” The single syllable answer did little to encourage conversation.

  “I kinda thought that Laredo fella might be there, but he didn’t show.”

  “No.” The flat pitch of her voice never changed, but there was something slightly savage in the way Cat dipped out the next spoon of dough.

  “What’s Logan got t’say about him?”

  After a vague movement of her shoulders, Cat replied, “He’s going to call someone in Texas he knows and see what he can find out about the Smith family.”

  With the cookie sheet filled, she stuck the spoon in the remaining dough and checked on the batch baking in the oven. The opening of the oven door released a fresh bloom of vanilla and chocolate scents into the kitchen, but it was the edgy briskness of her movements that Culley noticed. Leaving the cookies to bake a little longer, Cat turned away from the stove, paused, and exhaled a troubled sigh.

  “I don’t know, Uncle Culley. Maybe I was too quick to find fault with Jessy. It’s for sure Dad would hate it if he knew Jessy and I were at odds over the ranch. I’ve heard that anger is often a manifestation of grief.”

  “Maybe,” Culley conceded, unconvinced, “but it don’t explain the Smiths.”
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br />   “No, it doesn’t, does it,” she said, a new awareness of that dawning in her green eyes. An instant later both heard the sound of a vehicle pulling into the ranch yard. Cat immediately groaned. “It’s probably Tara. When I talked to her yesterday, she said she might stop by this morning.” But when she looked out the window, it wasn’t Tara she saw coming up the walk. “It’s Monte,” she said in surprise and hurriedly brushed at the dusting of white flour on her blouse. “I wonder what he wants.” The rhetorical question was addressed to Culley, but when she turned to look, he had already slipped out the back door.

  It was so typical of him to avoid casual contact with people he didn’t know well that Cat simply shook her head in amusement and went to the front door to welcome her unexpected visitor. Monte rapped lightly on the screen door just as she reached it.

  “It’s a surprise to see you out and about this morning, Monte.” Cat pushed the door open. “Please come in.”

  He hesitated. “I haven’t come at an inconvenient time, have I?”

  “Not at all.”

  With an idle lift of his hand, he motioned in the direction of the barn before entering. “Is that Quint I see at the corral?”

  “Yes. He’s doing some groundwork with our Appaloosa colt. It’s his summer project.”

  “Isn’t he a bit young to do that by himself?” A slight frown creased Monte’s high forehead.

  “Usually I supervise, although he doesn’t really need anyone. Besides, my father would tell you a child is never too young to assume responsibility.” Her nose told her the cookies were done. Cat moved toward the kitchen, saying over her shoulder, “Excuse me a minute. I have a batch of cookies in the oven that need to come out.”

  Monte sniffed the air. “Ah, that’s what that delectable aroma is.” He trailed after her into the typically large and roomy ranch kitchen. “It reminds me of my schoolboy days when I used to snitch biscuits from the cook’s larder.”