Authors: Janet Dailey

Green Calder Grass (28 page)

BOOK: Green Calder Grass

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“That’s fine.”

Cat paused in the act of filling a cup for him to frown curiously in his direction. “Why did you bring up Buck Haskell’s name?”

“No reason. I just remembered it, that’s all.” After sitting all this time without making a move toward the food before him, Culley scooped some potato salad onto his plate and checked the contents of the other bowls.

“I know you better than that, Uncle Culley.” Cat brought his cup to the table and set it on the table next to him. “You never say anything for no reason.”

Culley attempted to shrug off the question. “It just seems odd that she’d want a jailbird workin’ for her.”

Cat had never thought about it in quite that way before. But she never had a chance to explore the possibilities as Quint ran into the kitchen, trailed by Logan.

“Hi, Mom. Hi, Uncle Culley. Got the chores done.” Quint lost interest in both of them the instant he noticed the food on the table. “Can I have something to eat, Mom? I’m hungry.”

“Of course. Grab a chair,” she said, ruffling his coal-black hair.

“Me, too, Mom?” Logan mimicked their son, his gray eyes aglow with that special light he reserved just for her.

“You, too.” Smiling, Cat tipped her head up to receive the light but warm kiss he dropped on her lips.

Within minutes both father and son were heaping food on their plates while Cat filled their drink orders, coffee for Logan and milk for Quint. Beyond a nod of acknowledgment, Logan didn’t attempt to engage Culley in conversation. Culley wasn’t the kind of man given to talking, although he seemed to have grown comfortable with both Logan and Quint.

After Quint had devoured half his sandwich, the edge was off his hunger. He turned his attention to the day’s events. “Boy, Uncle Ty really smashed up his truck, didn’t he?”

“You saw it?” Cat’s glance ran from Quint to Logan.

Logan nodded in confirmation. “We drove by it on the way here.”

“Did you see anything that didn’t strike you right?” Culley pinned Logan with a close-watching gaze.

The question stirred Logan’s professional instincts. “Nothing other than the fact that it’s unusual to blow two tires on the same side. Why?” Culley had a reason for asking, and Logan wanted to know it.

“Just curious.” Culley forked another bite of potato salad into his mouth. “I noticed the pickup’s gun rack was empty. Guess one of the guys on the pump truck took the rifle out, though I don’t remember seeing it.”

“Could be,” Logan agreed, unable to recall any mention of Culley returning to the accident site. Which likely meant the old man had watched from a distance. It was the sort of thing he was known for doing, observing without becoming involved.

“Did Ty mention anything about seein’ coyotes?” Culley continued to concentrate his attention on the food on his plate.

“Not to me.” Like Culley, Logan pretended to take no great interest in this discussion. He wasn’t sure where it was leading, but he strongly suspected it would end up being his business.

For several seconds, Culley held his silence then dropped his little bomb. “I was just wonderin’ about the shots I heard.”

“Shots?” The conversation now had Cat’s attention. “What on earth are you talking about, Uncle Culley?”

Before he could explain, Ty walked into the kitchen. His gaze went straight to the old man. “Hello, Culley. Tara said you were out here. I didn’t want you to leave before I had a chance to thank you for going for help today.”

He extended a hand in gratitude. Culley reluctantly shook it, mumbled an unintelligible acknowledgment, and picked up his silverware.

“When you topped that rise, I was never so glad to see anybody in all my life,” Ty told him.

“I imagine you were,” Logan remarked then pursued the subject Culley had raised a moment ago. “Culley was just mentioning that he heard a couple shots.”

“Really? When?” Ty asked, only mildly interested in the answer.

“About the same time I heard the crash.” Culley kept his head down as if absorbed by the meal before him.

“You probably heard the blowouts,” Ty concluded.

“Could be.”

But Logan wasn’t fooled by Culley’s apparent concession, chalking it up to the man’s natural reticence around the male side of the Calder clan. “But you don’t think it was, do you, Culley.” Although phrased as a question, Logan made a statement of it.

Culley fired him a quick look, his black eyes hard with certainty. “I know gunshots when I hear ’em.” He lowered his head again and pushed the food around on his plate. “I figured somebody was shootin’ at coyotes. But there wasn’t nobody else around, an’ there wasn’t a rifle in the pickup.”

“You think somebody shot out the tires.” Logan lifted his glance to Ty to observe his reaction.

“Seems like a mighty big coincidence that one thing happens right after another.” Culley didn’t commit himself to more than that.

“What do you think?” Logan put the question to Ty, noticing the way Ty was already mulling over this new take on the crash.

“I’m not sure. But those tires should have been in good shape,” Ty replied, his own suspicions beginning to grow.

Cat looked at all three of them, a hint of alarm darkening her eyes. “But who would do such a thing?”

“I wonder where Haskell was,” Ty murmured thoughtfully.

“He wasn’t at the construction site when I rode in. I know ’cause I looked for him,” Culley stated in a flat voice that didn’t have to point fingers.

“I’ll take a look around tomorrow morning,” Logan said then cautioned Ty, “Make sure your boys don’t haul that pickup away before I get there. Considering the number of people milling around there, I’m not likely to find much, but—just in case.”

“I’ll see to it,” Ty stated and left the kitchen.

No more mention of it was made by anyone that evening. Cat pushed it as far from her thoughts as she could, but it lurked there in the back of her mind along with the danger it might portend.

The midday sun beat down on the grass plains, blazing out of a sky bereft of clouds. A dry wind blew out of the north, sucking up the little moisture it found and leaving a gauzy haze of dust in its wake.

On any other day Ty’s thoughts would have been on the tinder-dry conditions that gripped the ranch. But with Jessy riding in the truck beside him, still with a hint of underlying pallor and her seatbelt tightly buckled, Ty’s mind was on other things.

He scanned her with a sideways glance, concern darkening his eyes. “Are you sure you don’t mind if we swing by the crash site?”

Jessy looked at him with wise eyes. “I am not going to get all female on you and freak out at the sight of the truck if that is worrying you. I have been bucked off too many horses in my life. The accident left me with a dandy headache and some bad memories, but nothing worse than that.”

“If it was an accident,” Ty inserted, no longer certain that it was.

“That’s one more reason I want to know what Logan found rather than hear about it secondhand later.”

There was no trace of anxiety in her voice. Its absence drew his gaze to the strong, pure lines of her face. Sun wrinkles fanned from the corners of her eyes and the rounded ridges of her cheekbones stood out clearly. Her wide lips lay comfortably together, without a hint of strain or tension. He was struck again by what a remarkable woman she was.

“You have always been one to face any trouble head on,” Ty recalled.

“It’s better to see it coming than have it sneak up behind you,” Jessy stated calmly and closed her eyes to steal some rest.

She didn’t open them again until they were nearly to the crash site. “It’s just ahead,” Ty said when he noticed her looking around, trying to orient herself. “We can’t be sure that Logan will still be there.”

“I know.”

A half-mile from the site, Ty spotted a vehicle parked on the shoulder, a telltale light bar mounted on its roof. Logan was by the wrecked pickup in the ditch when Ty pulled level with it. Ignoring the ever-present dust swirl, Ty rolled down the driver’s window.

Logan walked over to the truck, his glance sliding past Ty to seek out Jessy. “Hello, Jessy. How are you feeling?”

“Better than I did last night,” she replied. “More importantly, though, did you find anything?”

“Not one single thing.” His mouth curved in a smile that was grim. “I don’t think there is any doubt, though, that your tires were shot out. But I don’t have one scrap of evidence to prove it.”

“What do you mean?” Ty studied him with narrowed eyes.

“I think someone was very busy here last night. A part of both tires has been hacked out. If I had to guess, I would say it was the area where the bullet holes were. If he had to jack the truck up to do it, he didn’t leave any clear impressions behind. Which means either the ground was too hard or he placed something under the jack to prevent leaving an impression. The ground around here is too trampled to tell anything for sure.”

If Logan said it was so, Ty believed him. The man knew his business. But it raised another thought. Turning his head, Ty scanned the land that rolled away from the road to the north.

“He must have been out there somewhere,” Ty stated.

“Had to be,” Logan agreed. “I’ve combed a good section of it. Either he didn’t have to wait very long before you came along, or the wind already straightened any grass he flattened. If he was thorough enough to cut out the bullet holes in the tires, I’ll bet he picked up the shell casings.”

“Yes. It sounds like he’s a careful man.” And Ty could think of only one man who was likely to know all the tricks—Buck Haskell. Anything Buck didn’t know before he went to prison, he probably learned after he got there.

Logan gave the door an idle pat and straightened from the cab. “I’m going to look around some more. You never know. I might get lucky and find something he missed. In the meantime, I would be extra careful, Ty.”

“I will.” Like Logan, Ty believed his assailant would try again. “Have you found out where Haskell was?”

“Officially I have no cause to question him.” Logan told him. “No evidence, no eyewitness. Nothing but a maybe-that-might-have-happened. So there isn’t much I can do.”

Maybe there was nothing he could do, but there was plenty Ty could do.

Chapter Seventeen

T
he accident site was behind them, obscured by the churned-up dust cloud. Jessy studied Ty’s strong-jawed profile, noting the taut ridges of tension.

“You are going to question Buck yourself, aren’t you?” she guessed.

Patience had never come natural to him. It was something Ty had learned, but he had never been able to sit comfortably in its saddle.

“As soon as I get you home and settled.” He tried to gentle his voice, but Jessy caught the undertone of hard decision. There would be no dissuading him from it.

In truth Jessy hadn’t expected him to do anything else. Buck would never admit to anything. And without any proof the shooting had actually occurred, there was little Ty could do except put Buck on notice. Buck would know exactly what that meant. And it might be enough to make him think twice before trying anything again. It was a confrontation that had to take place.

“I have a feeling you won’t have to worry about getting me settled,” Jessy told him. “Between Sally and my mother, one of them will be fluttering around, coddling me like an invalid.”

True to her prediction, Jessy had barely set foot on The Homestead’s front porch when the two women scurried out of the house to surround her. Her mother took one look at the gauze bandage over Jessy’s wound and bemoaned the loss of hair that had been snipped away, then brightly assured Jessy it would grow back.

Glancing over their heads, she looked at Ty. “Didn’t I tell you? You might as well go before they shoo you out of the way.” She observed his momentary indecision. “It needs to be done, Ty.”

The simple phrase smoothed everything out inside him. Jessy was not a woman who needed her hand held, certainly not when there was a job to be done. Tara, on the other hand, would have been grievously hurt if he had left so soon after bringing her home from the hospital, but not Jessy. He took pride in that.

“Get some rest,” he said and headed back to the truck.

Rest was all she had done for the last twelve hours. Jessy had no intention of climbing into another bed until nightfall. When she learned that Cat had taken the twins to give Jessy some peace and quiet on her first day home, she knew she was in for the full invalid treatment. Over the protestations of both women, Jessy insisted on sitting on the porch for a while.

“I feel like I’ve been cooped up inside for a week, constantly being poked and prodded, someone always hovering about to check my pulse or take my blood pressure. I just want to sit outside by myself and enjoy some fresh air. Believe me, it will be much more restful than lying in any bed,” Jessy insisted.

Her mother wisely saw that Jessy had her heels dug in. There would be no talking her out of this. Reluctantly she gave in to Jessy’s wishes.

Ensconced in one of the high-backed rockers on the front porch, Jessy basked in the warmth of the sun. A glass and a pitcher of ice water sat on the table beside her, along with a bell to ring. A small neck roll pillow offered support for her throbbing head and another pillow cushioned her lower back. All that was missing was an afghan over her legs, Jessy thought with a faint smile.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the dining room curtain move and knew it was either her mother or Sally checking on her. She closed her eyes and savored the familiar scents and sounds of the ranch, a little surprised that she was content simply to sit and do nothing. She blamed it on the hard blow to her head that she had taken, which turned her thoughts to the accident that hadn’t been an accident at all and the confrontation between Ty and Buck Haskell that had either taken place already or was about to occur.

Catching the telltale crunch of gravel, Jessy opened her eyes to see Ballard making his way toward the front steps. He spotted her as well.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she echoed his greeting.

“Seeing you sitting out here sure does make it a good morning,” Ballard declared, mounting the steps. “I was just comin’ to see how you were feelin’, but I sure didn’t expect to find you out here on the porch.”

“Just getting some air,” she told him.

“That’s the best way I know to get that hospital smell out of your nose.” He walked over and stretched out in the companion to her rocking chair, his gaze making a thorough examination of her. “You had us all good and worried, Jessy. How are you feeling?”

“Now you sound like a nurse,” she countered lightly, a little weary of answering the same old question.

“I guess I do.” The wry slant of his mouth gave his smile a rueful quality. He focused his attention on the bandaged area along the side of her temple, reaching into her scalp. “I’ll bet your head feels like there’s a bunch of carpenters inside poundin’ away.”

“They said I would have headaches for a while.” Reaching up, she absently felt the gauze. The wound itself was sore to the touch.

“When’s the bandage come off?” he asked.

“Tomorrow, as long it’s not draining anymore.”

“I’ll bet you’ll be glad to get rid of it. I never could stand having one on,” Ballard declared then let his focus drift away from her. “Ty sure didn’t hang around long after he brought you home.”

“He had some business to take care of.”

“I’m hearing talk that maybe it wasn’t an accident. That maybe someone deliberately shot out those tires. It’s just a rumor, mind you, but I was wondering if there was any truth in it.” He looked to her for an answer.

“It looks that way,” Jessy confirmed.

An unusual grimness hardened his features. “That’s what I figured. It was just too much of a coincidence for both of those tires to blow. And I’m bettin’ I know who’s behind it, too. And Ty takin’ off like that, headin’ east, I’d say he’s plannin’ on havin’ a little talk with her.”

“Her?” Jessy repeated, taken aback by the feminine pronoun. “You don’t seriously think Tara did the shooting?” The idea was ludicrous.

“No, but I’ll give you odds she gave the order,” he stated.

“Tara.” The possibility that Tara had anything at all to do with this had never crossed her mind. It struck Jessy as preposterous. “But why? What reason would she have?”

Ballard didn’t even hesitate over the answer.

“To get rid of you so she can have Ty all to herself. It’s what she’s been wantin’ ever since she showed up—only she’s got tired of waitin’ for him to come around. So she figured on hurryin’ things up a bit by tryin’ to get you out of the picture.”

“But Ty was in the truck, too,” Jessy argued. “Why would she risk having him hurt, possibly killed?”

“I’ve puzzled over that, too,” Ballard admitted. “I figure that was Buck’s doing. He probably liked the idea of taking out a Calder along with you. Don’t you know he felt the sharp edge of her tongue afterwards.”

Jessy struggled to wrap her mind around the conspiracy Ballard was painting. She had never liked or trusted Tara, but she still found it difficult to suspect her of this.

“Tara is good at scheming and manipulating, but I don’t think she is capable of what you’re suggesting,” she stated.

“You don’t, huh?” There was a kind of pity in the look Ballard gave her. “Then explain to me why she hired Haskell?”

“She said it was because he knew the Wolf Meadow range so well.” It was an explanation that had always seemed weak to Jessy.

“I won’t argue with that,” Ballard replied. “In fact, he probably knows all the ideal spots for an ambush. And he’s also the first one you’d suspect if there was any violence around here. After all, everybody knows how much he hates the Calders. Right?”

Reluctantly Jessy agreed as the pieces began to fit together. “Right.”

“Let’s suppose Haskell gets caught and points a finger at Tara. Who’s gonna believe him? Oh, there might be a few who do. But it won’t matter ’cause she’ll have covered her tracks with him eight ways to Sunday. It’ll just be his word that she was part of it. With the high-powered lawyers she can hire, the word of an ex-con is never gonna convict her. Yes sir,” Ballard concluded with a decisive nod. “She’s planned it all very carefully. Buck’s the only wild card. I’m guessin’ she’s findin’ him a little hard to control.”

“Have you told anyone else what you suspect?”

“What good would it do? Suspicion is all I got. And I’m not exactly popular with Ty these days,” he reminded her. “He wouldn’t believe it about her anyway. She’s got him fooled. She always has.”

“Not always,” she corrected. “Or he would still be married to her.”

“And she will be again if she can get rid of you. She’s got him all set up for it. There Ty would be, a widower with two kids to raise, and she’s fussed over them from the start. For some extra added insurance, she bought Wolf Meadow. Hell, if you weren’t around, Ty would marry her just to get his hands on that land,” he declared. “It would be one of those old-time business mergers masqueradin’ as a marriage.”

Jessy wasn’t so sure about that. Ty was first and foremost a Calder. Even though a Calder wasn’t above making a loveless marriage, Ty would fight shy of making the same mistake twice.

“Maybe,” she said. “Then again, maybe not.”

“Look, I’m not tellin’ you all this to put Ty down, though it might sound that way.” He leaned toward her, conveying an urgency. “I guess I’m sayin’ all this to warn you. If I’m right, there’ll be another attempt on your life. Maybe not right away. Maybe she’ll let things cool down for a while just to lull you into lettin’ down your guard. But you need to keep your eyes and ears open.”

“Don’t worry. I will.”

“There’s no point in tellin’ me not to worry, ’cause I will. I’d tell you to stick close to The Homestead, except I keep rememberin’ those kidnappers busted right into the house. Still, if you stay around here, I can keep an eye on you. But most of all, don’t go off anywhere by yourself. Who knows, maybe I’m all wet and nothin’ will come of any of this.”

“Let’s hope so,” Jessy agreed, aware that Ballard had nothing but his suspicions.

A pickup swung into the ranchyard and approached The Homestead. Jessy was quick to recognize Chase behind the wheel. Ballard did as well and rose from the chair without any show of haste.

“Be careful, Jessy.” He looked serious and worried. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Thanks.” She was touched by the concern he showed for her safety. She had yet to decide whether she felt it was warranted.

“Afternoon, Chase.” Ballard nodded to him as they passed on the steps.

Chase responded with an absent nod, his attention zeroing in on Jessy, making a swift assessment. “You are looking better than I expected.”

“I feel better, too.”

He crossed to her chair, his glance leaving her to scan the ranchyard. “Is Ty around?”

“No.” Jessy told him about their conversation with Logan, the conclusions Ty had drawn, and the lack of evidence to support it. “Ty went to Wolf Meadow to confront Buck.”

Chase’s expression was as hard as chiseled granite, his eyes narrowing in a cold anger. But he made no comment beyond a slow nod of satisfaction. An attempt had been made against a Calder, but it was not going unanswered.

“What did Ballard want?” Chase asked, his glance only now traveling after the man.

“He thinks Tara might be involved in this,” Jessy replied with her usual candor.

“I considered that possibility,” Chase stated, but he didn’t offer his opinion on it. He turned toward the door. “Are you coming in?”

“Not for a while.”

“I’ll be in the den if you need me,” he said in parting and crossed to the door, his attention turning inward.

Chase regretted that he wasn’t with Ty. It was a regret that wasn’t based on any doubt that Ty could handle it. But he knew Haskell, and Ty didn’t.

More importantly, Buck would know Chase never bluffed. Chase did what he said he would do, and be damned with the law.

The fan blades of windmill eleven stood against the sky, motionless and forgotten amid the hustle of activity nearby. Another time Ty would have taken time to study the low-slung dwelling that sprawled near the base of the butte. But at that moment, he had no interest in it.

Scanning the construction site, he spotted an office trailer parked off to the side, and drove straight to it. A score or more of men moved about the site but Buck Haskell wasn’t among them.

Parking the pickup near the trailer steps, he switched off the ignition and climbed out of the cab. As he approached the trailer, its door opened and Tara stepped out.

“Ty.” Her greeting echoed the surprise and pleasure that claimed her expression. “I heard the truck and couldn’t imagine who had driven out here. I thought you would be on your way home from the hospital with Jessy.” Tara paused, a look of quick concern leaping into her eyes. “They did release her, didn’t they?”

“Yes, she’s home,” Ty confirmed, half-impatiently.

“Thank goodness.” Tara pressed a hand to her throat in an exaggerated gesture of relief then let it fall away. “You had me worried for a minute.”

BOOK: Green Calder Grass

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