by Janet Dailey
“Back off, Laredo,” Trey said in warning.
Sloan instantly turned an angry glare on him. “I can defend myself! I don’t need your help.”
Chase raised a hand, keeping it palm down and patting the air. “All of you, calm down,” he stated in a reasonable voice, then directed his next remark to Trey. “Laredo’s questions are ones that need to be asked. Since Sloan seems willing to answer them, we’re willing to listen.”
“Thank you.” Sloan said, but with a touch of curtness that indicated resentment still simmered below the surface.
Cat reached out to her in sympathy. “I hope you can understand what a surprise this is to all of us.” Yet behind the concern in her expression, there were questions and a hint of suspicion.
“That has become very obvious,” Sloan replied, again in that clipped tone.
Once more Laredo picked up the questioning. “So, when was the last time you saw your dear old Uncle Max?”
For a split second she said nothing. “Understand that I have called him Uncle Max since I was old enough to talk. It’s become a habit. Who knows? Maybe it was some subconscious way of pretending I actually had a family. But we were never close. I barely spent any time at all with him after his wife died. He was always busy or gone somewhere. As for the last time I saw Uncle”—Sloan caught herself and immediately rephrased it—“I saw Max, I had dinner with him—it must have been somewhere around the last of February or the first of March.”
“And you’re saying you haven’t talked to him since?” Laredo’s voice was dry with disbelief.
“I never said that at all!” Sloan snapped in answer. “You asked when I saw him last, and I told you.”
“Then you have talked to him?” Laredo made it a question.
“Probably two or three times. No, it was definitely three times.”
“Obviously he knows about your marriage to Trey,” Laredo guessed.
“As a matter of fact, I talked to him shortly after we became engaged. He called me in Hawaii about some papers I needed to sign. While I had him on the phone I told him the good news.”
“I’ll bet he congratulated you, didn’t he?”
“And why shouldn’t he?” Sloan fired back. “He was happy for me.”
“I’ll bet he was,” Laredo agreed, then slanted a look at Chase. “Want’a bet the prenuptial agreement was his idea?”
Sloan rushed to his defense. “He was trying to protect my interests. It’s what he’s always done.”
“I’m curious, Sloan,” Cat inserted. “Why didn’t you invite him to the wedding?”
“There wasn’t any point. He had already told me there was some business trip he had to make that couldn’t be postponed.”
“He did send us a wedding present,” Trey volunteered.
“That sculpture thing,” Cat remembered.
“So you talked to him twice more since he phoned you in Hawaii,” Jessy said, shifting the discussion back to Sloan’s contact with Rutledge.
“Yes, I called to thank him for the wedding present, and the second time was to let him know about…our baby.” She paused a beat and her gaze raked the table, her posture defiantly stiff and proud. “Regardless of what you think, I never deliberately tried to conceal my association with…Max…from you. If I had wanted to keep it a secret, I never would have left the envelope with his name and address on it out for Trey to see. I would have hidden it.”
Trey was the only one other than Sloan who knew the card had been buried in the middle of a stack. He couldn’t help wondering if she had forgotten that detail.
“Let me make sure I understand this right,” Laredo said. “During those phone calls you had with Rutledge, he never mentioned that he had any dealings with the Calders in the past?”
“No, he didn’t. For that matter, none of you have said a single word about him until now,” Sloan retorted.
“Until now, there wasn’t reason to,” Laredo replied smoothly.
“And there isn’t one now!” Sloan insisted, the volume of her voice raising in proportion to her anger. “Trey told me that all of you think Uncle Max was behind the problems you had in Texas. But you’ll never convince me that he had anything to do with it. It makes absolutely no sense at all. The man has a multibillion-dollar empire to run. He wouldn’t stoop to something like that. That was Boone’s style.”
“I admire your loyalty, Sloan,” Chase told her “But in this case I think it’s misplaced.”
“Well, I don’t. He’s no more guilty of anything than I am.” There was a betraying quiver of her chin as Sloan looked around the table, daring anyone to say differently. “You know, it’s really a shame you didn’t do a background check on me before I married Trey. Then you could have made sure I was a suitable mate.”
“That’s enough of that talk, young lady,” Chase said sharply. “Here at the Triple C we don’t judge people based on their past.”
“Really?” Sloan looked at him in hot challenge. “And just what do you call this?”
Laredo answered for him. “It’s an attempt to get at the truth. After all, you’re asking us to believe an awful lot of coincidences.”
“I don’t particularly care what you believe! Everything I said was the truth, and I know it. That’s all that matters to me. And if you don’t like it, that’s just too bad.” Angrily, Sloan shoved her chair back from the table and stood up. “Excuse me, won’t you?” she said tightly. “I seem to have lost my appetite.”
Head high, she walked out of the room. Trey pushed his chair back and threw a dagger-sharp glance at Laredo. “You didn’t have to be so hard on her,” he muttered.
Eyebrows raised, Laredo reminded him, “There was only one hostile voice at this table, and it didn’t come from any of us.”
“The way all of you ganged up on her, what did you expect?” Trey challenged before going after Sloan. With long strides, he caught up with her just as she placed a hand on the stairway’s newel post. The instant Sloan felt the touch of his hand she went rigid.
“Let me guess—they have more questions.” Her voice wavered.
Trey guessed she was close to tears, but she refused to turn and look at him. “I wouldn’t know. I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”
“You mean, after being interrogated like a criminal?” This time her voice did catch on a near sob.
“In your shoes, I’d probably be as angry and upset as you are. But try to look at it from their side—”
“How can I when ‘their side’ makes no sense at all? Uncle Max has never done anything to them. It’s ridiculous that they think he did.”
Like the rest of his family, Trey knew Max Rutledge had created all the trouble at the Cee Bar; Boone had been nothing more than his puppet. But any attempt to convince Sloan of that would only lead to another argument, and she was upset enough as it was.
“You just need to give them some time, Sloan,” he said, knowing himself that the family would judge his wife based on her present and future actions, not her past associations. That was the way things were done on the Triple C—that was the Calder way.
“Please, I know they are your family, but right now I just want to be alone for a while.”
Trey wasn’t certain that it was a wise decision for her to be alone. At the same time he was reluctant to insist that she return to the dining room.
“If that’s what you want,” he finally said. “How about if I bring up a tray for you later?”
“I don’t care. That’s fine.” She moved away from him, climbing the stairs.
Watching her, Trey saw the hand she placed under her protruding stomach. Her chin was up and her back was ramrod straight, but he was struck by how alone and vulnerable she looked. It was a sight that aroused all his protective instincts. He abruptly turned from the staircase before he could give in to the urge to go up those stairs with her.
Reluctantly, he retraced his steps to the dining room. As he approached the archway, he heard the comment Cat
made.
“I always wondered why Sloan never talked much about her past. Maybe now we know.”
“I don’t think that’s a fair conclusion to draw, Aunt Cat.” Calm and a little cool, Trey crossed to his chair and sat down. “When you reminisce, it’s usually about the good times. Sloan had no family, no home, no roots. That doesn’t exactly make for pleasant memories.”
“I think we have discussed this topic enough for one evening,” Chase stated. “Let’s eat before the food gets any colder than it already is.”
But Laredo wasn’t ready to let go of the subject. “What do you think we should do about this?”
Calmly, Chase lifted a slice of roast beef onto his plate before deferring the question to his daughter-in-law. “What’s your answer to that, Jessy?”
“We do nothing.” Showing the same calm, Jessy reached for the meat platter’s serving fork. “Sloan is family. Until she proves otherwise, that’s the way she will be treated.”
“We only have her word about this,” Laredo reminded her.
“And the word of a family member is accepted.”
Nothing was as simple as that, and Trey knew it. Their level of trust in Sloan had been changed, and only time would correct that. But he wasn’t sure how Sloan would handle it, and there was little he could do other than stand beside her. The rest was up to Sloan.
Better than anyone, Trey knew how sensitive and proud Sloan was. He couldn’t help being concerned that she wouldn’t tolerate the situation very well.
Chapter Seventeen
A steady fall of snowflakes drifted past the windowpane, creating an ever changing pattern of white dots against the gray-black night. Staring out the window, Sloan saw none of this. All trace of her earlier tears had been scrubbed from her face, but resentment continued to simmer, as evidenced by the tightly folded arms across her front and the dig of fingers into her sweater sleeves.
Never had she been more innocent, yet made to feel guilty—and for no reason other than that Max Rutledge had once been her guardian. The entire Calder family seemed obsessed by him. She was convinced their suspicions were totally ludicrous.
But every time Sloan replayed the conversation at the table—not a conversation, she corrected herself, an interrogation—the mental tape always stopped on the question from Laredo for which she had no adequate answer. There was only one person who could supply it.
Coming to a decision, she turned briskly from the window and walked to the black telephone on the sofa’s end table. She picked up the receiver and punched the area code and phone number from memory.
Her call was answered after the third ring. “Slash R Ranch.”
“Is that you, Bennett?” she guessed, but never gave him a chance to confirm it. “This is Sloan. I need to talk to Uncle Max if he’s there. It’s important.”
“One moment,” was the reply.
And she was put on hold. As the seconds continued to tick away, Sloan sat on the arm of the sofa and impatiently tapped a hand on her leg.
After what seemed an interminable wait, the familiar voice of Max Rutledge came over the line. “Yes, Sloan. Bennett said you needed to talk to me. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Everything—”
“What is it? Has something happened to the baby?”
The concern in his voice was like balm to her raw nerves. Sloan took a long, steadying breath and said, “No. The baby and I are fine. Did I tell you it’s going to be a boy?”
“A son. That’s wonderful. But I take it that isn’t the reason you called.”
“No, it isn’t.” The tension came back, along with the confusion. “Why didn’t you tell me that you knew the Calders? Why did you let me think you’d never had any dealings with them?”
“So they have learned of your connection to me, have they?” he said with a degree of resignation. “I suppose it was bound to come out sometime. And it’s my fault for not providing you with the details of that unfortunate business with Boone. But you sounded so happy and so very much in love when you told me of your engagement to Trey that it seemed unkind to bring up that unpleasantness.”
“I wish you had,” Sloan declared with feeling. “Now they think I deliberately kept it from them.”
“Is that what they said?” Surprise and anger crept into his voice.
“Not in so many words, but they implied it.”
“Why? What reason would they have?”
“It’s a long story. But you have to understand that the Calders are convinced that whatever Boone did, it was on orders from you.”
“What?!” Max exploded, outraged and indignant.
Sharing the same view, Sloan released a disgusted sigh. “I know. It’s ridiculous, and I told them so. Even worse, though, they actually think it’s possible you want to get back at them for Boone’s death.”
“You can’t be serious?”
“I am. Trey told me himself. At the time, I didn’t really believe him. Then tonight at the dinner table, the way the family grilled me about you—”
“You?! Why? What has any of this to do with you? Wait. Let me guess. They’re probably wondering whether your marriage to Trey is part of some conspiracy of mine.”
The instant he said it, Sloan felt a little chill as she remembered the mocking way Laredo had asked if Rutledge had congratulated her upon hearing the news of her engagement. It was exactly what they suspected.
A short, derisive laugh came over the phone line. “Obviously the Calders don’t know you very well, Sloan, or they would realize you would never consent to such a thing.”
“Trey knows better.” She clung to that.
“I’m relieved to hear it. For a moment I thought they were all against you, and I was about to order my plane to come get you.”
“That isn’t necessary,” Sloan assured him. “I’m upset, and I’ve probably made it sound worse than it is. The Calders couldn’t understand why you never told me about the trouble Boone had caused. And I couldn’t give them a reason. That’s why I called.”
“I’m glad you did. And if they start giving you a rough time, don’t you dare sit there and take it. Call me, and I’ll have you out of there in a heartbeat.”
“Thanks, Uncle Max.”
The line of her mouth softened into a near smile when she hung up the phone. It took her a moment to realize that all of the Calders’ suspicions about Max had planted a few seeds of doubt in her own mind about him. Yet his reaction when she told him about it had echoed her own. It served to solidify her convictions concerning his lack of culpability.
Snowflakes danced in front of the bright lights that focused their beams on the building sign for The Oasis. In this part of Montana, pickups, equipped with four-wheel drive, were as common as flies in summer. And on a Saturday night, snow was no deterrent for the bar’s customers. If anything, it provided them with an excuse to stay longer and party harder.
Amidst the blare of music from the jukebox, the melodic ding of the slot machines, and the crowd’s nonstop chatter, punctuated by hearty guffaws and giggling laughter, the bang of the cash-register drawers closing on sale after sale could nevertheless be heard, bringing a smile to Donovan’s face. A handy profit was something he hadn’t expected when he first opened the doors to The Oasis. But here it was, and, by agreement, it all went into his pocket.
Of course, Donovan didn’t kid himself. It wasn’t the booze or the two-inch-thick T-bones that pulled in this size of a crowd; it was the girls and the gambling.
Turning from the cash register, Donovan made an automatic survey of the bar, on the lookout for trouble. It was a rare Saturday night that didn’t have at least one fight. The red light glowing above the door to his private office caught his eye.
“It’s all yours, Sammy,” he told the bartender and stepped out from behind the long counter.
Shouldering his way through the throng of half-drunk cowboys, he reached the door marked PRIVATE, slipped the key into the lock, and gave it a turn. The telephone w
ith the private line was ringing when he walked in. The red light was something Donovan had rigged up to it so he wouldn’t miss a call from Rutledge.
He took the extra seconds to close and lock the door behind him, then picked up the phone. “Donovan here.”
“It took you long enough,” Max growled.
“Saturday nights are busy.”
“Good. I hope it’s very busy. I want you to start putting a bug in as many ears as you can that Trey Calder and his young wife are having marital problems.”
“They are?” Donovan frowned in surprise. Everything he had heard about them indicated just the opposite.
“Not yet. But this is the time to start some. I have a few ideas on how to go about it.”
“Fire away.”
The old-fashioned bed tray held a full glass of milk, a covered plate of food, and silverware wrapped in a linen napkin. It was the drink Trey watched as he slowly climbed the stairs, pausing whenever the milk sloshed dangerously close to the rim of the glass.
At the top of the steps, he turned and headed for the master bedroom. Finding the door closed, he braced one end of the tray against his stomach, freeing a hand to turn the knob. He gave the door a shove, caught hold of the tray with both hands again and walked in.
Sloan was by the fireplace, jabbing at the glowing coals with a poker. She turned when he entered, and Trey ran a quick but discreet glance over her in an attempt to assess her current mood. To his relief, her eyes no longer had that wounded and angry snap to them. She looked almost calm.
“I brought you some dinner,” he announced. “I thought you might be getting hungry.”
“Starving.” She returned the poker to its stand and looked at him with a hint of chagrin. “I thought I was going to have to swallow my pride and slip downstairs to raid the refrigerator.”
Hearing that, Trey was sorry he’d brought the tray. As far as he was concerned, the sooner Sloan was obliged to mingle with the family again, the better off they would all be. But it didn’t seem wise to say that.
Instead he asked, “Should I set this on the coffee table or the ottoman?”