by Janet Dailey
“Well, somebody needs to tell those girls at the bar that they need a few more clothes.”
Cat’s comment drew a throaty chuckle from Trey. “Somehow I don’t think that’s the idea, Aunt Cat.”
“What are you talking about?” Chase tipped his head down to peer over the top of his half-glasses. His attention instantly centered on a blonde in shorts and a low-cut knit top, balancing a tray laden with beer. “Looks like this place has come full circle.”
“What do you mean?” Sloan turned curious eyes to him.
“When I was a young buck, a fella by the name of Jake Loman had this place,” Chase recalled, leaning back in his chair, a reflective tilt to his head. “And there was always a string of pretty girls on hand, willing to show a fella a good time. For a price, of course. Jake always claimed they were his nieces.”
“Sounds like you’re talking from experience, Gramps.” Trey grinned.
“It was common knowledge,” was all that Chase would admit.
Jessy snuck a glance over her shoulder. “Chase you don’t really think those girls are—”
Chase interrupted before she could finish her question. “The man did say he didn’t want people to have a reason to drive somewhere else, didn’t he?”
His dry comment brought a round of laughter. It faded to smiles when the waitress arrived to take their orders. Afterward, a fellow rancher stopped to say hello to Chase and complain about the lack of rain.
When a discussion of previous dry spells ensued, Laredo gave Jessy’s shoulder a light nudge. “Care to dance?”
Her initial look of surprise quickly turned to warm pleasure. “I’d love to.”
“Let’s do it.” Laredo stood up and moved to the back of Jessy’s chair, pulling it out for her. “We’re going to take a spin on the dance floor,” he told the others, then addressed Trey. “Are you two going to join us?”
Trey shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Trey knows I’m not much for dancing,” Sloan explained.
“That leaves more room on the dance floor for us,” Laredo said as he steered Jessy away from the table.
The dance area at The Oasis was little more than some open floor in front of the jukebox that also served as a divider separating the dining area from the bar. One other couple circled its perimeter when Jessy and Laredo reached it.
With the ease of one accustomed to her partner, Jessy turned into Laredo’s arms, one hand coming up to rest on his shoulder while the other fit itself to his palm. The tune was an old-fashioned Texas two-step, simple and not too lively. Feet moving in unison, they made one circuit of the floor, neither speaking.
“So, when are you going to tell me what this is all about?” Jessy asked, amused and curious. “Not that I don’t enjoy dancing with you, because I do. But something tells me you asked me out here for a different reason.”
“I was only trying to oblige a pretty lady,” he drawled. “I figured you had more questions for me, and I thought I’d give you a chance to ask them with some privacy.”
“You’re right,” Jessy admitted. “Because I still don’t understand what all that was about with Donovan.”
“I didn’t like the way he was dissecting me.” For all the change in his expression, Laredo could have been talking about the weather. “But more than that, I couldn’t figure out why he would. Why should he care who I am or what I do?”
“He is new here,” Jessy reminded him.
“But ask yourself—why would anybody buy a business in a dried-up town in the middle of nowhere and pour a bunch of money into fixing it up? It’s not smart. Did Donovan strike you as being thick between the ears?”
“No.”
“Which brings us right back to the same question—what’s he doing in Blue Moon? Elbow room and lack of competition, that’s what he said. Somebody wanting to disappear might be more like it, but he seems to be doing his damnedest to attract customers. It could be that he plans on setting up some side business.”
“Like what?”
Laredo steered her around the other couple before answering, “In a way, it has the smell of drugs. That still doesn’t explain why he was so interested in me…. Unless…” A possibility occurred to him. “He could have heard that Calder’s daughter was married to the local sheriff, without being told that Logan was killed. It would be natural for him to assume that’s who I am. No wonder he was checking me out so closely,” Laredo mused, then grinned crookedly. “It’s kind’a funny when you think about it—somebody mistaking me for the law.”
Jessy laughed softly in response, relieved that Laredo had no real reason to be suspicious of the man. Just for a moment she had been worried that Chase’s constant warnings about Rutledge might be coming true, and Donovan was Rutledge’s man. But none of that seemed likely now.
At the bar, Donovan deftly poured a shot of whiskey into a glass while simultaneously adding 7-Up. Through it all, he managed to keep one eye on the couple, circling the dance floor. He couldn’t seem to shake the uneasy feeling he had about the sandy-haired cowboy who called himself Laredo Smith.
Some little warning bell had gone off in his head the minute he saw the man with the Calders. It wasn’t so much the way the cowboy had initially stayed in the background as it was the sharp, searching way his gaze had shot through the crowd—that, and the coolness in his eyes when they had finally centered on him. At that moment, Donovan had been ready to swear the man was a bodyguard. Then he had been treated to that good ole cowboy routine, complete with an aw-shucks grin.
Yet he’d seen something in the cowboy’s eyes that he recognized right away—a willingness to shoot without hesitation. Maybe the man had done just that in the past. Which made it all the more interesting to Donovan that Laredo Smith was on the Calders’ payroll.
A cowboy stepped up to the bar, blocking his view of the dance floor. Hat pushed to the back of his head, exposing a shock of dark red hair that curled onto his forehead, the man said, “Hey, draw me a beer, will ya?”
“Sure thing.” Donovan shoved a beer mug under the tap and pulled the handle.
A bunch of quarters clattered onto the counter. “You’re the new owner, aren’t you?” the cowboy asked.
“That’s right,” Donovan confirmed as he caught a fleeting glimpse of the couple exiting the dance floor.
“For your information, you’re paying for this drink, ’cause I just hit a fifty-dollar jackpot over there on your slots.”
“Glad to hear it.” Donovan declared and set the mug in front of him. “I like to keep my machines loose. It brings customers back.”
“I’ll remember that.” The cowboy took a swig of beer, then wiped away the foam on his mouth and stuck out his hand. “By the way, my name’s Matt Rivers. My dad owns the old Kennesaw spread north of here.”
“Mine’s Donovan. Glad to have you.” He stacked some dirty glasses in the under-the-counter washer. “It’s going to take me a while, I guess, to get all the names and faces straight and know who’s who and who’s not.”
“I’ll bet it is,” the young cowboy agreed. “Especially when you got a crowd like this.”
“It’s been hard.” Donovan was quick to make use of the young cowboy’s willingness to talk. “And in a small town, customers expect you to know who they are. Like tonight, the Calders are here having dinner. I recognized the old man from pictures I’ve seen of him. The same with Jessy Calder. The son and his wife were easy to spot. But there was a cowboy with them—blue eyes, sandy hair, probably older than he looks. I can’t figure out where he fits in.”
“Sounds like Laredo,” Matt Rivers stated without hesitation. “He’s been with the Calders for years.”
“Is he their foreman or something?”
“Naw. He just works there.”
“Really?” Donovan said with surprise. “Do the Calders usually have an ordinary ranch hand eat with them?”
“No,” he admitted, and shrugged. “Laredo’s different, though.”
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br /> “How so?” Donovan pressed with open curiosity.
A frown of uncertainty flickered over the man’s voice. “I don’t know. I think old man Calder was married to his mother or his aunt—I think it was his mother.”
“Then he’d be Calder’s stepson.”
The cowboy smiled, his own confusion clearing. “I guess he would at that. Which just goes to prove what anyone around here will tell you—the Triple C is a clannish bunch. They always favor their own over outsiders.”
“So I’ve heard.” Yet Donovan thought it a bit odd that Laredo hadn’t claimed the relationship when he introduced himself. More than that, he wondered why Rutledge hadn’t mentioned it to him. But the answer to that would have to wait until morning.
A vigorous hand rang the church bell, summoning worshippers to the morning service. The only customer in The Oasis was a passing truck driver, busy dividing his attention between the tall stack of pancakes in front of him and the buxom waitress bending low to refill his coffee cup.
With the lull in business promising to be a long one, Donovan unlocked the door to the back office, stepped inside, and relocked it before crossing to the desk. He took a seat and dialed the number he had long ago committed to memory.
“It’s Donovan,” he identified himself the minute Rutledge answered. “Do you have a few minutes?”
“I do. Did the Calders show up last night?”
“They did. You never mentioned that Chase Calder has a stepson.
“It’s the first I heard of it.”
“That’s what a rancher’s son told me last night. The stepson goes by the name of Laredo Smith. When I first met him, I would have sworn he was a bodyguard. But the cowboy claimed his mother was married to the old man.”
“As far as I know,” Rutledge began in a thought-filled voice, “Chase Calder was only married twice. His first wife was the daughter of a neighboring rancher up there. And his second wife was a widow by the name of Hattie Ludlow. She owned a small ranch not far from mine. Chase bought it from her shortly before they married. I don’t recall that she had any children, but I’ll find out.”
“If this Laredo is supposed to be her son, then his last name should be Ludlow, unless he had a different father. And there’s always the possibility that my source got it wrong,” Donovan admitted. “Initially he wasn’t sure if the woman was Laredo’s aunt or his mother. Whoever he is, he’s in damned tight with the family.”
“Is that why you’re so interested in him? Do you think you can turn him? Get him to feed us information?”
“Not this one.” Donovan was certain of that. “No, I saw something in his eyes I didn’t like. I don’t know what your plans are, and I don’t want to know. But a word of warning—watch out for this guy. He can be dangerous.”
“The Calders have a big name. It’s logical that they would have some protection around,” Rutledge replied in unconcern. “I’ll check out Hattie Ludlow and see what her connection was to this Laredo Smith. In the meantime, you learn what you can about him. But make sure he doesn’t find out that you’re asking about him.”
“Don’t worry. The questions won’t be coming from me.” Then Donovan asked, “Did that information I sent you about the Kaufman ranch arrive yet?”
“It came Friday.” Without expressing an interest, or lack thereof, in the property, Rutledge moved on to other matters before bringing the conversation to a quick conclusion.
When Donovan emerged from the back office a few minutes later, he was greeted by the sound of two sets of footsteps going up the rear staircase. A ghost of a smile touched the corners of his mouth at the sight of the semi still parked outside and the empty restaurant area.
Some thirty minutes later, he rousted the rest of his girls from their beds and gathered all of them together. His instructions came with a promise of a reward and a warning not to deviate from the reason he had given them for seeking the information he wanted. All swore they wouldn’t, and he was confident they knew better than to try.
Chapter Fourteen
A relentless August sun had burned off all the early morning coolness, and the air was as dry as the thick brown grass beneath the horses’ hooves. Already Trey could feel a trickle of sweat running down his back, and it was barely midmorning.
Thirty-odd head of cows plodded ahead of him. Every now and then one would pause to grab a bite of the buffalo grass that was already cropped short. When a straggler lowered her head to sample some, Trey started to rein his horse toward it, but Laredo was already there, slapping a coiled rope against his leg. Reluctantly, the cow trotted forward to rejoin the rest.
Off to his right, a pair of cows crested a low rise at a harried trot. Tank Willis was right behind them, keeping up a steady pressure until they neared the slow-moving herd. Then he backed off and swung his horse in between Trey and Laredo.
“Those two are the last from that section. Johnny and Ben rode up to check the butte.” His horse released a blowing snort and settled into a jigging walk. In one continuous motion, Tank took off his hat, wiped his forehead sweat on a shirtsleeve, and rocked the hat back on his head. “You know, I can’t remember ever moving cattle off their summer pasture the first week in August.”
“There wasn’t any choice this year,” said Trey. “Another month on this grass and they would have chewed it to the roots.”
Tank nodded in understanding and scanned the cloudless sky. “If it don’t rain soon, we’ll be feeding them a lot of hay this winter. And soon, too.”
“True enough.” Trey rested his hands on the saddle horn, sitting easy but alert in the saddle.
“Somebody at The Oasis told me last Saturday night that they’re calling for rain next week,” Tank offered on a wistful note.
“God knows, we’re long past due for some.” Trey made his own study of the pale blue sky.
“Hey, Laredo.” Tank’s sudden grin had a streak of devilry in it. “You know that redhead that works at The Oasis—the one called Bambi?”
“I remember seeing a redhead there,” Laredo acknowledged. “What about her?”
“It seems she’s sweet on you.”
Laredo eyed him with skeptical amusement.” Where did you get a fool idea like that?”
“Andy Palmer told me last Saturday.”
“That she was sweet on me?” His glance questioned that claim.
“Well, actually Andy said that she was asking about you.” Tank’s grin widened. “She claimed she thought you were kinda cute for an old guy.” He put teasing stress on the “old” part.
“Did she want to know anything else about me?” Laredo wondered, his lazy smile still in place, but with a sharpening of his glance.
“Naw, that was about it,” Tank admitted, then eyed Laredo with sly, mocking humor. “Although Andy did mention that she thought you might be a foreman or something. She was probably trying to find out how much money you make. You’d best be careful the next time you go in there, or she’ll be sliding all over you, trying to coax some of it out of you.” Laughing, he hauled back on the reins and turned his horse away from them. “See you later.”
Off he rode in the direction of the butte. Trey ran a curious glance over Laredo, watching as he hurried along a lagging cow.
“I could be wrong,” Trey began in a casual tone, “but I had the feeling that you didn’t like the idea that this redhead was asking questions about you.”
“Maybe I’m not sure she was the one wanting the information,” Laredo countered.
“You think somebody else put her up to it?”
“Could be.”
There was only one logical choice for that person. “Why would Donovan be trying to get information about you?”
“Good question. Too bad I don’t know the answer.”
Mixed in with that note of indifference in Laredo’s voice was a touch of grimness. Trey caught it right away but chose not to comment on it. It summoned up the half-forgotten whispers he’d heard as a boy, hints that Laredo had b
een in trouble with the law. There had even been a suggestion that Logan had uncovered his secret while he was sheriff but chose to keep quiet about it. Until now Trey had always dismissed those old rumors as another tall tale the old-timers liked to feed people, one that would turn out to be only partly fact and mostly fiction. Trey wasn’t so sure about this one anymore.
“You’re positive Donovan isn’t someone you might have known before you came here?” Trey put it as a question and observed the way Laredo’s glance sliced to him.
“Positive.” He looked Trey in the eye when he answered him. “He isn’t a man I’d be likely to forget. And he isn’t one I would trust, either.”
Laredo never suggested that Trey should distrust the man as well. That wasn’t his way. But the seed was planted just the same.
“I’ll talk to Tank and make sure he passes the word for everybody to watch their step in there.” Saddle leather creaked as Trey shifted his weight in the seat. “We’ll find out soon enough what Donovan’s game is. Blue Moon’s too small for anything to stay a secret for long.”
“Don’t count on that,” Laredo advised. “That’s a man who knows how to keep his mouth shut. And he plans on being here for the long haul. If we find out anything, it’s something he wants us to know.”
Amusement quirked Trey’s mouth. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was Granddad talking. You sound just like him, always expecting danger to be lurking in every shadow.” Trey found it hard to take this kind of talk seriously.
“When you own a place as big as the Triple C, there’s always going to be somebody who resents it. Whether you’re responsible or not, you’ll get blamed for their troubles. Cattle prices are too low—the Calders glutted the market. Their well goes dry—the Calders lowered the water table by irrigating their hayfields. Most of it won’t ever be anything more than a lot of ill-natured griping.” Laredo paused to make his point. “But it only takes one to decide he wants to get even. Chase knows what he’s talking about. Always check those shadows.”
Trey lost some of his skepticism. “That’s why he’s fixated on Rutledge, isn’t it?”