Read Green Calder Grass Online
Authors: Janet Dailey
Green Calder Grass (10 page)
“I was told to bring these suitcases from the plane,” Ballard began, then stopped and frowned. “What’s she doing here anyway?”
It was a direct question he wouldn’t have put to either Ty or Chase. Jessy may have married into the Calder family, but in the eyes of the ranch hands and their families, she was still one of them. They felt comfortable saying things to her that they would never dream of uttering in front of Ty or Chase.
Jessy’s glance flicked to the two suitcases bearing the Gucci label. “At a guess, I’d say she’s spending the night.”
“Are you okay with that?” The gentle concern in Ballard’s voice was almost her undoing.
Turning away from the probe of his kind blue eyes, Jessy retrieved the bottle from its warming pan on the stove. “Why shouldn’t I be?” she countered in a deliberately careless tone. “She isn’t married to Ty anymore.”
“But she had him wrapped around her finger for a long time. And something tells me she’s pulling the strings again.”
It smacked of it to Jessy, too, but she didn’t say so. The ranch grapevine would be buzzing with the news of Tara’s arrival. She wasn’t about to add any grist to the rumor mill.
“I was on my way upstairs to give Trey his bottle. Follow me and I’ll show you where to put the luggage.” As she crossed the kitchen, Ballard pivoted out of the doorway to let her pass, then followed her down the hall to the living room. “Why has it taken so long to bring the bags to the house? The plane landed over an hour ago,” Jessy remarked, her own curiosity getting the better of her.
“You got me,” Ballard said from his trailing position. “I was at the corrals working with one of the young horses when the big boss,” which was the affectionate title the ranch hands had given Chase to differentiate between father and son, “told me to get the bags from the plane and take them to The Homestead.”
“Where are they now?” Jessy wondered aloud.
“When I left them, they were still at the old barn. They showed up there shortly after the plane landed, and they’ve been there ever since,” Ballard replied. “She’s got some young kid with her. He’s been crawling all over that barn like a termite inspector.”
The old barn. Jessy slowed her steps, trying to make sense of that, as they entered the living room. She had expected that Ty would be showing Tara the two sites they had chosen as potential locations for the new sale facility.
“That must be the architect you’re talking about,” she guessed. “She told Chase she was bringing one with her.”
“An architect? You mean for the new sale barn? Wait a minute.” Ballard stopped abruptly, spurs rattling with the suddenness of it. Jessy swung around in time to see the light dawning in his expression. “They’re thinking about using the old barn for it. What a helluva an idea!”
Jessy had her own moment of dawning shock as images flashed in her mind of the old barn at Christmas time, aglow with twinkling lights hung from the rafters. From there, it was no trouble at all to imagine a parade of registered cattle across a raised platform, similar to the one used for the annual Christmas pageant put on by the children of the ranch families. She felt a lick of excitement over the idea.
But she had no time to dwell on it as the front door opened and Tara swept in, followed closely by Ty, Chase, and a third young man. A tension, born of a raw dislike for the woman who had been Ty’s wife, curled its way through Jessy.
She knew her manners, however, and moved forward to greet the new arrivals. “Welcome back to The Homestead, Tara.”
“Jessy,” Tara began in greeting, then broke it off, releasing a little gasp of delight at the sight of the baby in Jessy’s arms. “You have one of the twins!” With quickened steps, she rushed to Jessy’s side. “Aren’t you the sweet one,” she cooed and tickled Trey under the chin. The happy-natured boy traitorously smiled and flailed his arms with glee. “Which one is this?” she asked Jessy.
“Chase Benteen the Third.”
“Little Trey. I should have known,” Tara cooed some more and continued chucking Trey under his chin.
But the easy use of the nickname was like a slap in the face to Jessy. When Ty had returned from Dyson’s funeral, he had given Jessy the impression that Tara had been overwhelmed with grief over her father’s death, certainly much too distraught for there to be much conversation. But the two had clearly talked a great deal more than Ty had let on.
“Oh, Ty,” Tara gushed, throwing a look over her shoulder. “He looks just like you. The same dark hair and dark eyes.” She turned back to the baby and murmured in a sickening baby-talk voice, “And just like your papa, you’ll break a lot of girls’ hearts when you grow up, won’t you, little Trey?”
With difficulty, Jessy held her silence, certain that Tara’s gushing over the baby was strictly for Ty’s benefit. Ty joined them, smiling indulgently when his young son squealed in pleasure at the sight of him.
Ty’s glance flicked to Ballard with its customary coolness then back to Jessy. “I imagine Ballard told you that Tara and Mr. Richardson will be spending the night here.” He nodded in the direction of the younger man in the group then formally introduced him to Jessy.
After the usual pleasantries were exchanged, Jessy motioned toward the staircase that ascended from the living room to the second floor. “I was just on my way upstairs to show Ballard where to put your luggage. If you’d like, you can come with me, and I’ll show you which rooms you’ll have. I’m sure you would welcome the opportunity to freshen up after your long flight.” The latter she directed to Tara.
“I would, yes,” Tara agreed quickly, then glanced at the architect. “Noah?”
He shook his head. “I prefer to get down to business.”
“In that case,” Ty said, “we’ll be in the den.”
It was no more than a statement of general information, but Tara chose a different interpretation of it. “I’ll join you later then.” Without a break in rhythm, she swung away and moved toward the stairs. “Which room will I be in, Jessy? I’m sure I can find my way.” The remark was a none-too-subtle reminder of her familiarity with The Homestead.
Jessy longed to strip off the gloves, but she refused to give Tara the satisfaction of knowing that she was getting to her. “I thought you could stay in Cat’s old room. Unless you have some objection to that.” She followed Tara to the stairs, irritated anew that Tara was the one leading the way.
“Cat’s room will be fine,” Tara assured her. “I always thought it had the best view of the ranch.”
Spurs jangling, Ballard trailed after both of them, lugging the suitcases up the steps. When they reached the bedroom that had formerly been occupied by Cat, Tara directed Ballard on where she wanted each suitcase placed.
When he set the last one down, Tara inquired, “Which room will Noah have?”
“The first guestroom in the west hall,” Jessy replied, and immediately provided Ballard with directions to it. After he exited the room, she turned to take her leave of Tara.
But she wasn’t given the opportunity. “Everything is just the way I remember it,” Tara declared. “The old place hasn’t changed a bit.”
“Not in the ways that count,” Jessy agreed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to give Trey his bottle. If there’s anything else you need, please let me know.”
On that parting note, Jessy walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. She continued down the hall to the master suite. Sally was just putting Laura in her crib when Jessy walked in.
Straightening, Sally lifted a shushing finger to her lips and whispered, “She’s asleep.”
Jessy nodded and crossed to the rocking chair. “By the way,” she said, keeping her voice pitched low, “you should know there will be two more for dinner.”
“No problem.” Sally smiled. “I got out extra on the chance that Chase would invite them to lunch.”
“They will be here for dinner as well as lunch.” Cradling Trey in her arm, Jessy slipped the plastic nipple into his mouth, tipping the bottle. “They’re spending the night.”
Startled by the announcement, Sally didn’t have the skill to hide it. “Tara is staying here?” A look of utter dismay claimed her expression. “Oh, Jessy, how awkward for you.”
Jessy couldn’t help thinking that Tara didn’t appear to find the situation at all awkward. Which made her all the more determined to control her temper and maintain an outward aura of calm.
“Which room is she in?” Sally asked with sudden concern. “You didn’t put her in your old room, did you?”
“No, she’s in Cat’s, and the architect is in the first guest room.”
An absent frown knitted Sally’s forehead. “I don’t think there are extra towels in Cat’s bathroom. I’d better get some.” She hurried from the room, leaving Jessy alone with the twins and her thoughts.
Leaning close to the dressing table’s mirror, Tara inspected her reflection. The face in the mirror was as smooth as ivory without a hint of a wrinkle, thanks to the artistic skill of Tara’s plastic surgeon. His fee had been exorbitant, but the result was worth every dollar he charged.
There was satisfaction in knowing that Jessy and her sun-creased lines suffered in comparison. Tara drew back from the mirror and added a touch more gloss to her lips, then adjusted the folds of the chiffon scarf around her neck.
There was a light rap on the bedroom door. Thinking it was Jessy, Tara lingered at the mirror and gave her black hair a few fluffing pushes then walked over to the door.
But it was Sally Brogan who stood in the hall, a stack of towels in her arms. Tara recovered in a flash and stepped back, adopting a quick look of astonishment. “Sally.” She breathed the woman’s name then released a confused laugh. “I didn’t expect to see you here. This is a surprise.”
“I work here now.”
Reaching out, Tara placed a warm hand on the woman’s arm, her eyes misting over on command. “We’re both hopeless, aren’t we?”
“I beg your pardon.” Sally frowned, puzzled by the comment.
“Even though they don’t love us, we can’t stop loving them. For us, it’s enough to be under the same roof with them, isn’t it?”
Clearly embarrassed, Sally turned away. “I . . . I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m sorry,” Tara murmured, instantly contrite. “I probably shouldn’t have said anything. I think I must have known in my heart that you were secretly in love with Chase. Perhaps that’s why, when I saw you here, I was so quick to recognize a kindred soul.” She paused and made a show of gathering herself, brushing away the sheen of tears, and drawing in a long breath. “But you’re right. It’s better not to talk about it. It makes it just that much harder to conceal when we’re around others.”
Sally lifted her head, a marveling look in her eyes. “You do understand.”
“Of course, I do,” Tara said softly and embraced the woman, towels and all, in a warm hug, then retreated, managing to exhibit a trace of self-consciousness. “Gracious, look at us,” she declared, thickening the drawl in her voice. “We had better stop this before I start crying.” Half turning, Tara delicately pressed a finger to the corner of an eye as if blotting away a tear.
Sally hesitated. “I guess I’d best be putting these towels away.”
“Sally.” Tara reached out a hand in a stalling gesture when the woman started to turn away. “Sometimes it’s—good to share your pain with another who is going through the same thing. It helps somehow. Thank you.”
Tara read the hesitancy and doubt in the older woman’s eyes. As clearly moved as she was by their exchange, Sally still didn’t fully trust her.
Tara was confident that she would in time. After all, there was no truer adage than the old one about misery loving company. And Tara needed an ally in the Calder household, a conduit of its happenings. There was no better candidate for that than Sally Brogan.
This was not a time to press for undying friendship, however. This was the moment to step back and allow it to develop gradually over the next few months.
“Now you go put those towels away,” Tara declared with an affectionate shooing motion. “It’s time I went downstairs before Noah decides that I have completely deserted him.”
By late the following afternoon, the Calders had struck a deal with the young architect, detailed measurements had been taken of the barn, and the pair had departed for Fort Worth with promises to be in touch soon.
Four short days later a UPS truck pulled up to The Homestead. The rear of the van was jammed with packages. The brown-uniformed driver hauled all but a very few of them into the house. Jessy stared in disbelief at the boxes stacked high in the large foyer, with only a small walk space left from the front door to the hall.
Each of them identified the sender as Tara.
On the box marked in big letters
OPEN FIRST
was an envelope with a note from Tara, addressed to both Ty and Jessy. In it, she expressed her gratitude for their hospitality and apologized for the late arrival of the baby gifts for the twins.
OPEN FIRST
was an envelope with a note from Tara, addressed to both Ty and Jessy. In it, she expressed her gratitude for their hospitality and apologized for the late arrival of the baby gifts for the twins.
It took the better part of an hour for Jessy to open all the packages. When she had finished, she was overwhelmed by the multitude of gifts. In the toy category, there were elaborate mobiles, fancy rattles and teething rings, and a menagerie of stuffed animals, large and small. Each twin had a complete set of porcelain dishes, plus a full setting of silver baby utensils. In addition, there were clothes—twelve outfits apiece. In Laura’s case, all of them consisted of dressy confections, full of ruffles and lace, complete with matching shoes, hair ribbons, and an assortment of other accessories. With one exception, Trey’s clothes were variations of suits and ties, blazers and matching slacks, with an accompanying collection of little shirts, socks, and shoes. The exception was a cowboy outfit, complete with full regalia—boots with tiny spurs, jeans, a cowboy hat, a yoked-front shirt with pearl snaps, a cowhide vest, fringed leather chaps, and a buckskin jacket.
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