Read Green Calder Grass Online
Authors: Janet Dailey
Green Calder Grass (27 page)
Stunned by the explosion, Sally stared. She wasn’t a woman given to losing her temper, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have one. The hair on her head might be white, but it was red when she was born.
She unleashed a portion of its fiery nature on him. “Just because you’re in a bad mood, Chase Calder, don’t you be taking it out on me! I won’t stand for it.”
The outburst was so out of character, it momentarily brought him up short. After a long second, Chase dragged in a deep breath and let it out.
“Sorry.” His gaze darkened with regret even as the line of his mouth tightened in grimness. “I don’t know why I’m so restless and edgy. Maybe it’s from being cooped up behind that desk always dealing with a bunch of paperwork. There’s a whole damned ranch out there.” With an impatient sweep of his hand, he gestured toward the window. “And I don’t know what’s going on in half of it unless somebody puts it on a piece of paper. I feel so damned out of touch. It’s like I have lost control of it somehow.”
“It’s this Tara thing, isn’t it?” Sally guessed, a hint of worry creeping into her expression.
Chase sighed, the sound troubled and heavy, and resumed his seat in the big leather chair. “I wish I knew what she was up to.”
“Maybe it’s no more complicated than needing to feel that she belongs somewhere.”
“Maybe.” But he didn’t believe that. “The first time I met her, I could see she was a hungry girl, always wanting something. And now she’s a hungry woman. I can’t shake the feeling that she’s got a taste for something other than a home in the middle of the Triple C. It wasn’t enough to satisfy her before. It isn’t logical to think it would be now.”
“But what would it be?” That’s what puzzled Sally.
“I don’t know, but I’ll bet we won’t have to wait long to find out. She is not only hungry by nature, she is impatient. The day is coming when she will tip her hand, and it won’t be far off.”
Through the opened window came the dull
clump
of booted feet climbing the front steps and crossing the porch’s wooden floor. Chase listened to the familiar tread of them.
clump
of booted feet climbing the front steps and crossing the porch’s wooden floor. Chase listened to the familiar tread of them.
“Sounds like Ty,” he said even as the front door opened.
Almost guiltily, Sally turned and began to busily run the soft furniture cloth over the side table. Observing it, Chase smiled faintly but said nothing.
Ty poked his head into the den, one hand on the doorjamb.
“Any idea where I can find Jessy?”
Sally answered, “She went upstairs about a half hour ago to put the twins down for their afternoon nap.”
Chase glanced at the mantle clock and frowned. “Are you already back from Tara’s?”
“Just getting ready to leave,” Ty replied. “First I thought I would see if Jessy—”
“If Jessy would what?” Jessy challenged lightly, coming up behind him.
“There you are.” His gaze moved warmly over her face. “You just saved me from going all the way upstairs.”
“I’m glad, too. With my luck, the twins would have woken up when they heard you, and it would take forever to get them back to sleep,” Jessy replied, then asked, “Why did you need to see me?”
“I’m headed over to see Tara’s new house and thought you might like to ride along.”
Jessy didn’t immediately answer and looked instead at Sally. “Would you mind keeping an ear tuned for the twins?”
“I don’t mind in the least,” Sally assured her.
“Thanks. As tired as they were, they should sleep for a good two hours. Hopefully we’ll be back around then.” Jessy sought confirmation from Ty.
“Sooner, with any luck,” Ty added, then directed his attention to Chase. “Before I forget, I sent Ballard into town this morning to pick up some things. Keep an eye out for him. If he gets back before I do, make sure he gets together with Sullivan about some possible double billing problems.”
“Will do.” The corners of Chase’s mouth made a grim turn downward at the mere mention of anything connected with paperwork.
Minutes later Ty and Jessy were traveling along the ranch road, leaving a cloud of dust pluming behind them. A steady breeze danced through the grassland on either side of them, setting the stalks to swaying.
Ty skimmed Jessy’s profile, taking note of the quiet strength and easy contentment in her features. “I wasn’t sure you would want to come along.”
Her smile was slow and easy. “I’m as curious as you are about what she’s doing there. Besides”—amusement glinted in her eyes—“if I’m around, she isn’t apt to make a play for you.”
“I wouldn’t count on that.” Out of habit, Ty loosely gripped both hands on the top of the steering wheel. “I decided a long time ago that Tara learned to flirt with every man she sees when she was still in the cradle. Maybe it’s a Texas thing.”
“When you were in college, were all the girls in Fort Worth like her?” Jessy asked curiously.
“Now that you mention it, they weren’t,” he admitted. “They had their moments. But I suppose all women do.”
Except for Jessy, he thought to himself. She was too straightforward, too blunt spoken to ever attempt to practice such feminine tricks. She was a rare woman and he knew it.
Ahead, the dirt road leveled out. Automatically Ty increased the truck’s speed to take advantage of the long, smooth stretch of surface.
Suddenly the wheel jerked under his hands. Simultaneously he heard the distinctive sound of a tire blowing and the pickup began a slight sideways skid. Before Ty could straighten the truck out, another tire blew.
In the next second, he had no control as a rear wheel slipped off the shoulder.
“Look out!” Ty shouted to Jessy when he felt the truck tip in the beginnings of a roll.
He heard her yell his name. Then they were going over, seemingly in slow motion, each second stretching into something longer. The adrenaline rush of fear seemed to mute the
thud
and
crunch
of the rollover. About the time Ty managed to avoid being hurled one way, he was slammed another.
thud
and
crunch
of the rollover. About the time Ty managed to avoid being hurled one way, he was slammed another.
After an eternity of seconds, the pickup rocked to a stop on its side. Dust swirled in a thick cloud beyond the fractured windshield, engulfing them in a tan fog. Ty found himself sitting sideways on the seat partially wedged between the steering wheel and the door, trapped by the weight of Jessy’s body crumpled against him.
His hands moved on to her, his left rib area shrieking a protest. “Jessy,” he said, but there was no response to either his voice or his touch. A quiver of fear ran through him.
With great care, Ty shifted her sideways to give himself a little maneuvering room. That’s when he saw the blood streaming from a wound to the side of her head.
Intent on stopping the bleeding, he tugged off his shirt. The close quarters had him bumping arms and elbows against the steering wheel and dashboard while he grunted from the pain the movement ignited along his ribs.
He wadded up the shirt and used it to apply pressure to Jessy’s wound. A quick check verified her pulse was strong and her breathing was steady.
Satisfied that he had done all he could do, Ty turned his attention to finding a way out of the wrecked truck. The passenger side door was crumpled inward. He made one try at opening it, but it was jammed. That only left the front windshield, which was already a mosaic of splintered glass.
Searching, Ty found an old rag stuffed beneath the seat. He laid it over Jessy’s face and neck then shifted himself around and began kicking out the windshield, sending pieces of glass flying in a tinkling shower.
With the afternoon sun warm on his back, Culley O’Rourke skirted his horse southward, avoiding Antelope Butte. After the passage of two weeks, he was curious about the progress that had been made at the construction site. At the same time he was wary of running into Buck Haskell again.
It was that wariness that had prompted Culley to take a circuitous approach to the site, dipping far southward and coming at it from a direction Buck wouldn’t expect. And Culley knew all of the land’s concealing folds.
When the wind carried to him the sharp report of a pair of rifle shots, spaced seconds apart, Culley didn’t think much about them. It wasn’t uncommon for a Triple C rider to shoot at any coyote he might spot.
But the distant thumps and thuds, crunches and clatter that followed the shots weren’t common. Culley reined in his horse, convinced he had just heard a smashup on the road about a mile due south of him. He thought about it a moment or two then decided to take a look.
Pointing his horse’s nose in the general direction of the road, Culley lifted it into an easy, ground-eating lope. A quarter mile from the road, he crested a swell in the plains and spotted a wrecked pickup farther up the road to the east.
It looked like it had rolled and ended up lying on the driver’s side. The passenger side was all crumpled in, but not so badly that he couldn’t make out the familiar Triple C insignia on it. About the same moment, Culley noticed a bare-chested man in jeans and boots moving about the hood. He was a tall, big-shouldered man with dark hair and a mustache. It didn’t take two seconds for Culley to recognize Ty Calder, even at this distance.
Culley pulled his horse up, grimly acknowledging in his mind that it was the luck of a Calder to walk away from a wreck like that. Then he smiled faintly, thinking of the long walk to headquarters the Calder son had ahead of him. The chance of another vehicle happening along the stretch of ranch road was remote. Culley knew he could offer Ty a lift, but carrying double would tucker out his horse and make Culley late getting back to the Shamrock. Cat usually showed up there around seven with his supper.
Just as he had reached the decision to let Calder fend for himself, Ty spotted him and waved his arm, motioning for Culley to come. Culley picked up something urgent in Calder’s body language. About then Ty bent over the windshield, and the thought crossed Culley’s mind that there might be someone else still inside. He spurred his horse toward the wreck.
When he was yards from the fence line opposite the overturned truck, Ty yelled, “Jessy’s inside. She’s unconscious. I need a hand getting her out. It looks like the fuel tank ruptured. There is gasoline all over here.”
Short of the fence, Culley pulled up and swung out of the saddle, dropping the reins. “Is it safe to move her?” He slipped between parallel strands of barbwire.
“It sure as hell isn’t safe to leave her there.”
Working together, with Ty inside the truck cab and Culley outside, they got Jessy out. Ty carried her to the other side of the road and carefully laid her on the grass. Culley stood back from her, still remembering the warm feel of her slim body and the red smears of blood on her face. Ty bent over her, blocking Culley’s view.
“Ride to the ranch for help.” Ty barked the order over his shoulder.
Crossing to the fence, Culley ducked between the wires again and scooped up the reins to his horse. He hauled himself into the saddle and reined the horse around before he buried his right foot in the stirrup.
But he wasn’t headed for the ranch. As white as Jessy was, Culley was convinced she was going to die without immediate help, maybe even with it. And the ranch was too far. He had never given much thought to Jessy one way or the other until now. But he found he couldn’t hold it against her that she had married a Calder.
He spurred his horse toward the construction site.
Chapter Sixteen
I
ntersecting the overgrown track that led to windmill eleven, Culley swung his horse onto it and asked for more speed with a whip of the reins. The tiring horse gamely gave him another burst.
ntersecting the overgrown track that led to windmill eleven, Culley swung his horse onto it and asked for more speed with a whip of the reins. The tiring horse gamely gave him another burst.
When he rounded the bend, the view of the work site opened up for him. The progress that had been made in two weeks’ time was startling. Where before there were only concrete footings, a house stood. It was a big and sprawling affair that hugged the ground. Workers swarmed around its exterior walls, busy facing its lower sections with stone. From somewhere came the buzzing whine of a skill saw, mixing with the rhythmic pound of hammers and the drone of a powerful generator.
Culley pulled back on the reins, checking his mount’s headlong pace when he reached the fringe of the site. Heads turned at the unexpected sight of a horse and rider. Culley scanned the faces, searching for Haskell among them. There was no sign of him, but he did see Tara, standing with two men, both in hard hats, one in work clothes and the other in a white shirt and tie.
Reluctant as he was to have any contact with her, Culley knew who was in charge. He angled his horse forward. The instant she recognized him, her expression darkened in a look of utter loathing.
“What are you doing here, O’Rourke?” Tara demanded when he slid his horse to a stop only yards from her. “This is private property and you are trespassing.”
“There was an accident on the road.” His horse skittered sideways beneath him, tossing its head and throwing off flecks of foam from its lathered sides. “You need to call the ranch an’ tell ’em to get some help here quick. She’s in a bad way.”
“Who is?” The question was quick and sharp.
“Jessy.”
Something flickered in her eyes that Culley couldn’t quite identify. “Where is Ty?”
“He’s with her.”
“Where?”
“On the road a good half-mile west.”
Having obtained the necessary information, Tara lost any further interest in him. She turned to the man in work clothes. “Call the Triple C
now
.” She put sharp emphasis on the word then swept her glance over the work site. “Where’s Buck?”
now
.” She put sharp emphasis on the word then swept her glance over the work site. “Where’s Buck?”
“I don’t remember seeing him in the last hour. Shall I—”
“Never mind,” she interrupted curtly. “I’ll drive myself.”
“Take the blue truck,” the man said. “It has a first aid kit behind the seat. You might want it.”
Splitting away, Tara walked swiftly toward a navy blue pickup while the man trotted over to a different one. A few seconds later Culley saw him holding a telephone receiver to his ear.
Satisfied that help was on the way, Culley reined his lathered horse around and left the construction area at an easy walk. With nothing better to do and no place he had to be anytime soon, he ambled toward the accident site. It wasn’t that he was nosy; Cully just liked to know what went on.
By the time he reached a vantage point a quarter mile from the site, his horse had cooled off from its hard gallop and two Triple C ranch pickups were parked behind Tara’s truck on the shoulder of the dirt road. Culley stepped out of the saddle and left his horse to graze. Taking a position on the shady side of a grassy knoll, he studied the scene below him.
There were three people huddled around the prone woman; one of them was the nurse Amy Trumbo. It wasn’t long before he noticed Jessy’s leg move. Then Amy was pushing Jessy’s hand away from her head, a sure indication that she had regained consciousness.
Long before the ranch’s pumper truck came into view, Culley spotted the dust cloud it raised. It slowed before it reached the accident site, but it still left a low dust fog in its wake as it continued past the figures on the roadside and pulled up near the wrecked pickup. Culley figured the pumper had been called to neutralize all the gasoline that saturated the ground, aware it was a fire just waiting to happen.
Soon the wail of a siren signaled the arrival of the ambulance. The longer Culley watched the unfolding events, the more certain he became that he didn’t need to be in a hurry to get back to the Shamrock. Cat wouldn’t be coming by with his dinner tonight. Just as soon as she heard about the accident, he knew she would head straight for The Homestead. That was the custom here; when trouble came, people banded together.
The idea of hanging around until the last dog had gone home suited Culley. There was something about the wreck that kept nagging at him. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was, but if he could poke around the truck after everybody left, it might come to him. Shifting into a more comfortable position, he settled down to wait.
The ranch hands manning the pumper truck were the last to leave. Culley waited until the vehicle was out of sight, then got to his feet and rounded up his grazing horse. Back in the saddle, he rode along the fence line until he came to the gate then backtracked along the road to the crash site.
The wrecked pickup had been righted. Now it stood drunkenly on the side of the shallow ditch, listing badly from the two blown tires. Culley walked his horse around, making two complete revolutions while he tried to figure out what it was that didn’t strike him right.
Chase stood at the den’s front window, his thoughts far from the sunset that flamed the sky. The instant he saw the blue pickup pull into the ranchyard, he turned from the window.
“Ty’s back,” he called, alerting the others.
When he stepped out the front door to meet him, Cat was right behind him. Giving Tara no more than a cursory glance, he ran an inspecting eye over his son, noting the stiff way Ty held himself to keep the pain in his ribs at bay. Chase also noticed the softness of relief in Ty’s dark eyes.
The sight of it made it easier for him to ask, “How is Jessy?”
“Other than a concussion, they don’t think she suffered any internal injuries, but they are keeping her at the hospital overnight for observation.”
“I’ll bet Jessy didn’t like that,” Cat guessed, smiling with the same relief they all felt.
“As a matter of fact, she was hurting too much to raise much of an objection,” Ty replied.
“So is Ty, but he doesn’t want anyone to know that.” Tara had both hands on him in an attempt to assist him up the steps. “Not only is he bruised and battered, but he has two fractured ribs.”
Ty dismissed her concern. “They gave me something at the hospital that has pretty well dulled the pain. How are the twins?”
“Sally and I just gave them their baths,” Cat explained. “She’s putting them to bed now.”
Reaching the veranda, Ty started across it with slow, measured strides. His glance ran upward toward the second story. “I should go up and see them.”
“You need to go inside and sit down,” Tara insisted.
“First, I have to call Jessy’s folks,” Ty stated.
“No need for that,” Chase told him. “They are inside. I told them to come over and wait with us. I think they would like a firsthand account of what happened. When you called from the hospital, you were sketchy with the details, not that they were very important at the time.”
There wasn’t much to tell, but Ty understood that others had a need to hear events replayed, that it somehow lessened the fear for them. At the same time, though, he had lived it, and there had been too much time both at the hospital and on the way home to replay it all in his mind. As reluctant as he was to go over it again, he went inside.
Minutes after Ty walked in the door, the telephone started ringing and more people dropped in. As usual, the ranch grapevine had been quick to spread the news of his return. It said as much for the high regard they held for Jessy as it did that she was married to a Calder.
Cat was in the kitchen, busy arranging an assortment of cold sandwiches on a serving platter when Dick Ballard stepped inside the back door. He swept off his hat and held it in front of him, turning it round and round by the brim.
“I thought I would find Sally here,” he said in vague apology. “I wanted to find out how Jessy is.”
She could see the worry in his gentle eyes. It touched her. “Jessy’s going to be fine,” Cat assured him. “The doctors think she suffered nothing worse than a concussion. They’re simply keeping her overnight as a precaution.”
“Somebody said her head was split open and she was bleedin’ all over the place.”
“I know. It must have been a nasty gash.” Cat went back to her task, piling on the sandwiches. “Ty said it took twelve stitches to close it. But head wounds bleed a lot, even small ones.”
“That’s true enough. One time when I was steer wrestlin’, a horn clipped my forehead. It wasn’t deep at all, but I bled like a stuck hog,” he recalled with some of his usual garrulity.
He seemed about to say more when Tara walked into the kitchen. Cat was surprised by the coolness that sprang into his eyes.
With a wave of his hat in Cat’s direction, he turned to leave. “Thanks for the update,” he said and went out the door, pushing his hat back onto his head as he left.
“What did he want?” Tara walked straight to the coffee maker and poured more coffee into the insulated carafe she carried.
“Just checking on Jessy like everybody else,” Cat replied.
“I should have guessed,” Tara admitted with a self-deprecating smile. “Everybody is worried about Jessy—and with cause. It makes me shudder when I think how much worse it could have been, considering that neither of them was wearing a seat belt. They are lucky they weren’t killed.”
Her remark sent a cold chill through Cat. “Don’t say that,” she murmured in protest.”
“It’s frightening, isn’t it?” Tara’s voice had a thoughtful and sobering pitch to it. “I hate to think how many times I don’t bother to buckle up when I get into a car simply because I’m not going very far. I never think about the possibility that in that four or five miles, a tire could blow.”
“We all will from now on.”
Cat paused while her pride warred with her conscience. But her conscience won. “By the way, I want to thank you for all you did today. I am grateful for the way you helped both Ty and Jessy.”
“Thanks, but it really isn’t necessary. I’m just glad everything turned out all right.”
“And I’m glad you feel that way.” Pride surfaced. “Because I don’t want you to think that this in any way makes up for the fact that you bought the Wolf Meadow land. I don’t think I will ever be able to forgive you for doing that. It was the cruelest thing you could do.”
“But don’t you see, Cat? In a manner of speaking, it’s still in the family,” Tara reasoned, her expression warm with assurance.
“No, it isn’t.” Cat was firm in her statement. “Families don’t do that to one of their own.”
Tara was about to argue the point when Culley O’Rourke slipped silently through the back door into the kitchen. He halted abruptly, his glance shooting in surprise to Tara, a clear indication he had been unaware of her presence.
“Culley, I’m so glad to see you,” Tara all but gushed the greeting. “I wanted to apologize for being so unforgivably rude to you this afternoon. It was completely inexcusable and I’m sorry. Even though Jessy’s injuries didn’t turn out to be life-threatening, I’m still glad you came to my construction site instead of riding all the way to the ranch for help.”
Culley listened to her little speech without comment, then turned to Cat. “Jessy is okay, then?”
“She’ll be fine. They’re keeping her in the hospital tonight merely as a precaution.”
“That’s good.” He reached behind him for the doorknob.
“Oh, no you don’t, Culley O’Rourke. You aren’t leaving yet,” Tara admonished with uncharacteristic friendliness toward the man. “If I know you, you haven’t had a thing to eat. And here we are with more food than we know what to do with. You come over here and sit down at the table. Cat and I will fix you something to eat.”
“No need for that.” Even as he shook his head in a show of indifference, his glance ran to the platter of sandwiches.
Mildly annoyed that the invitation should have come from Tara, Cat stepped in to take over. “There most certainly is a need. It will make up for the supper I didn’t get around to bringing you.” She took him by the arm and led him to the table while directing a pointed glance over her shoulder at Tara. “You better take that coffee into the living room. I know Stumpy definitely wanted another cup.”
Unable to object, Tara left the kitchen with the insulated coffee carafe in hand. Culley took a seat at the table while Cat brought him a plate and some silverware then set about retrieving various cold salads from the refrigerator.
“You don’t like her much anymore, do you?” Culley observed, quick to pick up on Cat’s mood.
She didn’t have to ask whom he meant. “I am still mad at her for buying that land. I guess I will always hold that against her no matter what.”
“She’s got Haskell working for her.” The remark had an offhand ring to it, like the idle voicing of a thought.
“I know. Dad hates that. Coffee to drink?”
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