by Janet Dailey
“I suppose we are,” Laura agreed, fully aware of the stir they created, and the way heads continued to turn every time she was with Boone.
“Believe me,” Tara declared, “you are going to start receiving a horde of invitations from Texas. But don’t accept a single one until you’ve spoken to me. It’s important that you be highly selective about which ones you accept, if any. It will only enhance the whole Calder mystique that’s out there.”
Laura frowned. “I don’t think I understand your reasoning.”
“Darling, if you should decide to marry Boone, people need to realize it’s a marriage of equals. And when the day comes that you and Boone throw a party of your own, they’ll come in droves.”
It was a tantalizing picture that Tara painted in her mind. With no effort at all, Laura could see herself in it. The practical side of her surfaced to remind Laura that standing here talking about it wouldn’t make any of it come true.
“Speaking of Boone,” she began, “is he still at the tent with Max?”
“As a matter of fact, I just passed him going into the barn.” Tara replied. “If you want, I’ll let Max know that’s where you are.”
“Thanks,” Laura said and moved away to retrace her steps to the barn.
The sudden loud blast of a horn stopped her, its harshness out of place amid the auction’s steady hum of voices. She threw a look around to identify the source. Her searching glance landed on an old blue pickup with scratched paint and dented fender parked off to the side, away from the expensive vehicles. She probably wouldn’t have thought much about it except that she saw a child’s head bob up in the cab, then turn and look out the rear window.
One glimpse was all Laura had before he disappeared from sight, scooting down in the seat, but she immediately recognized the little boy from the bar.
“Hey, Sis.” Trey walked up, leading a red roan filly. “What are you staring at?” he asked, turning to look.
“Do you see that truck? There’s a little boy in it. I swear he’s the same child that Mitchell guy was shoving around at Harry’s. What would Mitchell be doing here?”
“I think we should find out. It’s for sure he isn’t here to buy horses.” Eyes narrowed, Trey scoured the immediate vicinity, then shifted his attention to the rows of parked cars.
Laura spotted him an instant before Trey did. “There he is.” She nodded at the man, trotting into view from behind the caterer’s truck parked next to a second smaller tent used as a food prep station. His attire alone, faded jeans and a wrinkled plaid shirt, set him apart from the others in attendance.
“I see him,” Trey stated. “Looks like he’s headed back to his truck.”
“I wonder what he was doing over there.” Laura sent a curious glance in the direction of the caterer’s tent.
“We’ll know soon enough,” Trey replied.
Positioned as they were, Mitchell had to pass them to get to his pickup. Intent on the truck with the boy inside, the man didn’t notice Trey and Laura until he was a few yards from them. Immediately he slowed to a walk, something hot and wary leaping into his expression.
“What are you doing here, Mitchell?” Trey said in peremptory challenge.
The man sneered, “If it’s any of your business—”
Trey cut in, his voice cold and hard, “It is our business. You’re on the Triple C.”
Mitchell clamped his mouth shut for a long second, then jerked a thumb in the direction of the tents. “My wife’s workin’ out here today. I just stopped to find out what time she’d be gettin’ off. Now that I’ve found out, I’m leaving. Are you satisfied?” The sneer returned.
“As long as you’re leaving, we won’t stand in your way.” Trey continued to regard him with cool distrust.
Mitchell glared at him for a silent second, flicked a look at Laura, and stalked off. As he headed for his truck, Laura caught another glimpse of the boy stealing a peek out the rear window before he ducked out of sight again.
“Poor kid,” she murmured to Trey. “I can’t imagine anything worse than a child being left in the care of a brute like that.”
“Hey, Trey!” Someone called from the barn area. “The filly’s up next.”
Trey lifted a hand in reply, gathered up the reins, and grabbed hold of the saddle horn. “Keep an eye on him and make sure he really does leave,” he told Laura and swung into the saddle.
“Will do,” she promised.
When Trey reined the roan filly toward the barn, Mitchell jerked open the truck’s driver side door and threw a look at Laura. Rather than make it obvious that she intended to watch him, Laura headed toward the barn, taking an angle that kept the pickup in her side vision.
The pickup sputtered to life, belching dark smoke from its tailpipe with each rev of the engine. She was nearly to the barn before it reversed out of its parking spot and backed into a right turn that pointed it in the direction of The Homestead.
Keeping one ear tuned to the pickup’s idling engine, Laura entered the barn through a side door and worked her way through the scattering of prospective buyers standing along the wall until she reached the barn’s opened double doors. She stood to one side and looked out as the pickup rolled slowly forward on a path that took it unusually close to the row of parked vehicles. It was obvious to Laura that Mitchell was in no hurry to leave, and she wondered why.
“Ladies and gentlemen, you are going to like this next filly we have for you,” the auctioneer’s baritone voice came over the sophisticated sound system that had been set up in the barn. “She’s a three-year-old by Cougar’s Pride out of a fine San Peppy mare.”
Laura glanced toward the sale ring as Trey rode in on the horse, stopped in the center, and reined the athletic filly into a fast spin that had nearly everyone in the place sitting up a little straighter. Laura smiled, feeling a surge of pride, both in the filly’s talent and her twin’s skill in the saddle. Then she shifted her attention back outside to check on Mitchell.
The pickup had stopped. At the same instant that fact registered, Laura noticed a thin slip of a woman hurrying toward it from between the cars. She was dressed in the white top and black skirt of the catering staff and carried a sack in her hands. There was something furtive in the glance the woman threw over her shoulder.
The minute she reached the pickup, she hurriedly stuffed the sack through the opened window, pressed her fingertips to her lips, and transferred the kiss to the little boy in the passenger seat, darted another worried look over her shoulder, and hurried back to the catering truck. Simultaneously the pick-up roared away from the site.
It was only a guess, but Laura thought it was a fairly accurate one that the sack had been full of food, no doubt the same as that being served in the refreshment tent. Her mouth moved in a wry smile as Laura realized the Mitchells would have plenty to eat tonight, courtesy of the Calders.
With the mystery of Mitchell’s presence solved, she shifted her attention to the sale ring, where the bidding was under way. The auctioneer’s rapid and rhythmic chant filled the barn. She scanned the crowd and located Boone standing near the rear.
The initial bidding was fast and spirited as Laura picked her way through the mix of spectators and buyers. One of the spotters pointed to Boone. At a nod from him, the price jumped two thousand dollars.
“You know your horseflesh,” Laura murmured when she reached Boone’s side. “I think she’s the best of the lot.”
“My father agrees with you.” He automatically curved an arm around her waist, more in a statement of ownership than affection, and nodded again, raising the last bid by another two thousand.
Aware of the knowing looks they received, Laura leaned lightly against him and spread the flat of her palm over the front of his shirt and the iron-hard muscles beneath it. She made no further comment, choosing to feign an interest in the bidding. When the hammer fell, the top bid was Boone’s.
His success brought a round of congratulations and good-natured back-slapping
from those close by them. It faded with the entry of the next horse into the sale ring.
Tilting her head back, Laura smiled up at Boone. “I hope you read the fine print in the sales agreement.”
“Why?” Wariness leaped into his eyes.
“Somewhere in there, it states that the buyer must appear in person to pick up any stock purchased,” she teased. “Which means, if you want that filly, you’ll have to come get her yourself.”
The minute he realized she wasn’t serious, Boone responded to her smile. “I might be able to arrange such a visit,” he said and flicked a glance at the crowd, nearly elbow to elbow. “Maybe there won’t be so many people around then.”
“I can almost guarantee it,” Laura replied.
Another private jet soared into twilight’s purpling sky, its navigational lights winking as it banked south. Laura glanced idly in its direction, then surveyed the ranch yard, now nearly empty of vehicles. The few that remained were clustered mainly around the tents. Now that the sale was over the cleanup would begin.
“The Rutledges are gone, are they?”
Laura turned as her mother walked up to join her. “About twenty or thirty minutes ago,” she confirmed. “Boone will likely be back at the end of the week to pick up the horses they bought.”
Jessy studied her daughter with a quietly inspecting look. “Chase tells me you’re thinking about marrying him.”
“It’s possible.”
“Is that your idea or Tara’s?”
“Mine, of course, although I’m not surprised that you might think otherwise.” Laura was too used to the dislike that existed between Tara and her mother to take offense at the comment.
“I suppose I’m really wondering if you’re in love with Boone or in love with what you think he can give you.” As one, both set out in the direction of The Homestead.
“Isn’t it possible that it’s both?” Laura countered.
“It’s possible,” Jessy agreed. “But when you’re with him, you don’t act like someone in love. You’re too coolheaded.”
“Maybe I’m like you,” Laura suggested. “You don’t act like a woman in love, either. But I’ve seen the way you look at Laredo sometimes. And the way he lightly rubs your back when he thinks no one is watching. Just out of curiosity, Mother, why haven’t you married him?”
“Don’t change the subject, Laura.”
“Don’t dodge my question. Is it because he’s nothing more than an ordinary cowboy—and not a particularly good one at that?”
“That has nothing to do with it.” The denial was quick and decisive.
“Then why?”
“The decision was Laredo’s.” She turned a look of cool challenge on Laura. “Maybe you should ask him.”
“Maybe the next time I see him, I will,” she replied.
But she didn’t. She was too busy plotting out how she wanted Boone’s next visit to go.
A cane thumped across the hardwood floor and halted in front of the doors to the den. Chase looked in and saw Laredo leaning against the desk, one leg hooked over a corner while Jessy sat behind it, her blond head bent over the stack of checks she was signing. Planting the cane in front of him, Chase rested both hands atop it and leaned his considerable weight on it.
“When’s dinner gonna be ready?” he demanded gruffly.
Laredo pushed off the desk and came erect. “As far as I know, we’re just waiting for Trey and Laura to come down.”
“They should be here shortly,” Jessy added and laid the pen aside.
“One of you needs to holler up there and tell them to shake a leg.” Chase swung away and propelled himself toward the dining room with his cane. “A man could starve to death around here.”
Laredo came sauntering after him. “As little as you eat anymore, I’m surprised you even know when it’s mealtime.”
“I may not eat much,” Chase told him. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t get hungry.”
As they rounded the archway into the dining room, the clatter of booted feet running down the stairs echoed through the big house. Trey swept into the dining room about the time Chase reached his chair at the head of the table.
Chase glanced at the doorway, but Jessy was the only one who came through it after Trey. “Where’s Laura?” He frowned.
“Better not wait dinner on her.” Trey pulled out his customary chair and lowered himself onto it. “She’s on the phone with Crockett. She’s likely to be cooing in his ear for another hour yet.”
“Now, Trey,” Jessy murmured in light reproval.
“It’s true.” He pulled his napkin off the table and laid it carelessly on his lap. “What do you want to bet we’ll have the dubious pleasure of his company again this weekend? What’s he been here—three or four times since the sale? For the life of me, I don’t understand what Laura sees in him.”
“You mean other than the fact he’s rich and good-looking,” said Laredo.
“And full of Texas swagger,” Trey added, his disgust for the man showing. “Or haven’t you noticed the way he walks around like he’s the he-bull of the prairie.”
“If he seems a bit standoffish, maybe it’s because you haven’t acted all that friendly to him,” Jessy suggested.
“I’ve met his kind before.” Trey’s tone was dry with cynicism. “I have a hunch he figures he’s too important to need friends. And I’m not the only one who thinks that. Quint feels the same way about him.”
Trey’s assessment of the man was one that Chase shared. What he disliked about Boone was more an aura than any overt action. It pleased him that Trey had picked up on it. It certainly didn’t surprise him that Quint had.
“Speaking of Quint,” Jessy began, making a tactful change of subject, “have you talked to Cat lately? I was curious how Quint’s getting along since he reported back for work.”
“Fine, I guess,” Chase replied. “Although Cat did say that he tires quickly.”
Trey smiled. “I talked to him last night. He said he was getting stronger every day. Now that they put the walking cast on him, he’s gotten rid of the crutches and started using a cane. Sort of like you, Gramps.”
“With one difference: he’s a few years younger.”
They were halfway through the meal before Laura joined them. “Sorry I’m late,” she offered in breezy apology as she slid into her chair.
“Trey explained that you were on the phone with Boone,” Jessy said in a show of understanding.
“I was. Then I had to call Tara and talk to her.”
“About what?” It was Chase who made the challenge.
“Boone wanted to fly up this weekend, but he’s going to be tied up at the ranch. He wants me to fly down there instead.” She took the platter of roast beef that Laredo passed to her. “So I had to call Tara and see whether she would be free to go with me. After all, it wouldn’t look right for me to stay at the ranch with Boone without someone to serve as a chaperone, and I knew it would be impossible for you to get away, Mother.”
“It is,” Jessy confirmed, yet it stung that she hadn’t been asked first. “So, are you going?” she asked.
Laura nodded and forked a slice of beef onto her plate. “We’ll leave Friday morning, probably around ten o’clock, and fly back Sunday afternoon sometime.”
The wheelchair made almost no noise as it rolled across the stone floor of the living room in the sprawling ranch house. Ignoring the soft whirr of its motor, Boone crossed to the bar, took a glass off the shelf, and reached for the bottle of bourbon.
“I heard the phone ring.” Max Rutledge’s voice reached across the room to demand his attention. “Is she coming or not?”
“She’s coming.” Boone poured a full jigger of liquor into the glass, added some ice cubes and a splash of water. “So is Tara.”
“Smart girl,” Max said with approval. “There are some who’d look sideways at a woman who’d spend the weekend here alone.”
“That’s what she said,” Boone acknowledged.<
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“Tomorrow you go into town and buy her a ring. Get her something big and flashy that she can show off, but nothing as ordinary as a diamond—unless you can find a yellow one. A yellow diamond,” Max repeated, warming to the possibility. “That’s exactly what you need to get.”
“Isn’t that rushing things a bit?” Boone countered. “I’ve only known her a little more than a month.”
“If you haven’t gotten her to fall in love with you in a month, you never will.” His dark eyes narrowed on Boone in sharp suspicion. “Or is that the problem? You figure she’s going to turn you down.”
“I don’t think that at all.” But at the same time, he wasn’t certain she’d accept him, either. It was the pressure of that uncertainty that had Boone downing a hefty swallow of bourbon.
Chapter Twelve
The clip-clop of shod hooves on brick pavers echoed through the stillness of the English afternoon. As a groom walked the chestnut gelding up the ramp and into the horse van, Sebastian exchanged the bill of sale in his hand for a check from the buyer. A glance confirmed it was made out for the correct amount, and Sebastian slipped it into his inside jacket pocket.
“I’m confident the horses will make suitable mounts for young riders, Mr. Melrose,” Sebastian stated. “I know they served my nephews well.”
“They’re fine, sound animals. My daughters will be thrilled to have them.” The heavyset man threw a look over his shoulder as the groom emerged from inside the van to load the second horse. “Myself, I’ve never understood the connection between horses and young girls, but mine are completely daft about them.” When the second gelding walked up the ramp, the man touched his hat to Sebastian. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, Your Lordship.”
Nodding, Sebastian murmured an appropriate response, his attention distracted by the approach of a vehicle. Quick to recognize the driver behind the wheel as his sister, he turned to meet her while the man went to help the groom secure the horse van for travel.