Green Calder Grass (26 page)
Read Green Calder Grass Online
Authors: Janet Dailey
“Almost.”
She tilted her head in his direction, a persuasively hopeful gleam in her dark eyes. “Would it be terribly much to ask if I might have a tour of it? Since the idea to remodel it was mine to begin with, it feels like the project is my baby. I can’t help wanting to know how it’s coming along.”
Ty weighed her request, trying to guess at her ulterior motive for it. But he couldn’t come up with any obvious one, other than a desire to wiggle back into his good graces. And that wasn’t likely to happen.
“I have enough time to give you a quick tour of it,” he consented.
“Great.” Tara set off toward it, clearly anticipating him to fall in step with her. “It’s hard not to be a part of this, involved on a daily basis planning all the details for the auction, especially after living with it constantly for over a year. I can’t help feeling shut out.”
“I would have thought you would be too busy with your own project these days to give much thought to the auction,” Ty said in a dry but pointed reference to the construction in progress at Wolf Meadow.
Her smile was quick and warm. “Not so busy that I don’t have time to think about this.” Then her smile took on a rueful quality. “I know you don’t believe me, but I really do miss working with you on this.”
Ty wasn’t about to let the conversation become personal. “How is the house coming along?”
“Quickly.” If she was irritated by his change of subject, Tara didn’t let it show. “I have crews working on it night and day. If you have time one of these days, why don’t you come over and I’ll show you around. And I promise—I won’t object in the slightest if you cross my land to get to the site,” she teased.
His sole acknowledgment of the latter remark was a slight smile. “It’s a bit busy around here right now. But I’ll see what I can arrange in the next few days.”
“I hope you can come. I would like to show you the plans. It truly suits its environs, all rustic and open, very earthy and warm. I’m excited about it, as if you hadn’t guessed that already.” Tara was at her vivacious and vibrant best, aglow with enthusiasm for the subject. “Do you realize that this will be the first home that I designed, built, and decorated myself? Everything will be just the way I want it, not someone else. It’s a good feeling to put your stamp on something. I know at my home in Fort Worth, I can see Daddy’s mark in every room. Which is probably why I am reluctant to change anything there. Sometimes the past shouldn’t be abolished.”
“Perhaps not.” Ty stepped ahead of her to open the barn’s Dutch door.
Light bathed much of the barn’s cavernous interior, most of it coming from indirect sources mounted among the rafters of massive rough-hewn timbers. Tara stepped inside onto the alleyway’s new floor, made from salvaged street brick laid in a herringbone pattern. One of the workers had cranked up the volume on the radio, filling the silence with a honky-tonk song.
Tara gazed about her with a mixture of pride and satisfaction. “This is clearly the exception, Ty. On occasions, you can take the past and improve on it. The lighting is the only obvious modern item in the whole place. It’s stunning. You must be pleased with it.”
“I am.”
In a far corner of the barn, a telephone rang, its bell amplified to be heard outside. After a second, ear-harsh ring, someone turned down the radio.
“It was impressive the last time I saw it,” Tara recalled. “But you have added so many finishing touches since then that it somehow increases the impact. This is a look others will try to duplicate. Wait and see.”
Ballard stepped from behind one of the partitions at the far end of the alleyway. “Stumpy’s on the phone, Ty. He wants to talk to you.”
“Sorry. It’s important,” Ty said in a brief aside to Tara and moved away, too quickly to catch the flicker of annoyance in her expression. Ballard saw it, though. “While I’m on the phone, show Tara the holding pens, Ballard.”
Ballard acknowledged the order with a nod and ambled in her direction, unaffected by the pleasant smile she beamed his way.
“Ty pawned me off on you, didn’t he?” Tara guessed. “It really isn’t necessary. I don’t mind waiting until he’s through, and I’m sure you have work to do.”
“He said to show you the holding pens, and that’s what I aim to do,” Ballard replied, deflecting her suggestion with an easy smile that didn’t quite match the amused glint in his eyes. “He seems to think you want to see them.”
“But I do.” The assurance came quickly, reinforced by a turn in their direction.
“Really? I could’ve sworn your purpose here was to do some fence mending,” he drawled.
“Isn’t that simple range courtesy?” Tara countered. “When there’s a break in the fence, you try to repair it.”
“At least you’re not denyin’ that you set out to get back in Ty’s good graces again.”
“I have the impression you don’t approve. To tell you the truth, I’m not surprised. I am certain nearly everyone on the Triple C regards me as an enemy since I bought Wolf Meadow property. But it was never my intent to keep the property,” Tara replied, most persuasively.
“I believe you,” Ballard stated, taking her by surprise. “In fact, I think you bought it strictly for insurance.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” She frowned in bewilderment even as her gaze sharpened on him.
“You’re out to get Ty back—one way or the other. That’s why you’re danglin’ Wolf Meadow in front of him. I wonder how long it will take him to realize that the only way he’ll ever get his hands on it is if he takes you as part of the package. That’s your plan, isn’t it?” Ballard challenged lightly. “To make him choose between you and Jessy.”
Her look was cool and unflinching. “You seem to have forgotten he made that choice a long time ago.”
Ballard’s eyebrows arched up, his eyes widening in sudden revelation. “You’re gettin’ back at him for that—by takin’ the one thing that means more to a Calder than anything else. The land. He’ll never get his hands on it, not even if he leaves Jessy and marries you, will he?”
“What utter nonsense.” Tara laughed in derision. “You surely don’t believe I’m that devious.”
He ignored her response, his thoughts running ahead. “It’ll work. Not right away maybe, but over time, it will work, especially if you keep on being all friendly-like and helpful. Eventually he’ll talk himself into believin’ it’s you he wants and that his decision’s got nothin’ to do with Wolf Meadow.”
“You have a very vivid imagination, Mr. Ballard,” Tara chided.
“What are you gonna do about Jessy and the kids?” He mulled the question over in his mind, not seeing the answer. “You’re gonna have a bit of a problem gettin’ them out of the picture.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” Tara demanded, her dark eyes ablaze with indignation. “Why don’t you go to Ty with all your ludicrous accusations?”
“Simple. He wouldn’t believe me, not for long. You’d see to that.” Everyone else might underestimate her ability, but Ballard didn’t.
He couldn’t prove a single thing. At best, he could plant some doubt, delay the inevitable. But he couldn’t think of any way that might change the outcome.
Her eyes widened in a look of sudden alarm. “You’re insane,” she whispered and moved quickly away from him, her shoes
click-click-clicking
over the brick as she walked hurriedly toward the opposite end of the barn. She saw Ty and almost ran the last few steps to his side. “You’re back. That didn’t take long.”
click-click-clicking
over the brick as she walked hurriedly toward the opposite end of the barn. She saw Ty and almost ran the last few steps to his side. “You’re back. That didn’t take long.”
His frowning glance skipped over her, darting to the cowboy still standing in the middle of the alleyway. “Did Ballard show you the pens?”
“You surely don’t think he wouldn’t. You practically made it a direct order.” Tara slipped a hand under his arm, but he detected something in her voice that was a little too bright, a little too dismissive of the question.
“Is something wrong?”
“Wrong? Why on earth would you ask that?” Wearing a fixed smile of unconcern, she tried and failed to meet his eyes.
“You seem upset. Did Ballard say something out of line?”
“It wasn’t anything he said. It was the way he looked at me. He frightened me a little.” She gave a faint but expressive shudder.
“He puts the make on anything in a skirt. Sometimes he comes close to going too far.”
Tara darted another glance at Ballard. “I wish you’d let him go, Ty.”
“As I recall, you are the one who suggested that we take advantage of his experience and put him in charge of handling a lot of the details for the auction.”
“I know I did. It seemed a good idea at the time, but I am living here now. I can easily handle them for you.”
The offer raised all sorts of red flags. “Under the circumstances, Tara, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Ty was cool in his rejection of it.
Tara made an attractive little moue of mock chagrin. “I forgot. To just about everyone on the Triple C, I’m persona non grata. But not with you, I hope.”
“Our neighbors are always welcome here.”
The word was like a shield Ty threw up to ward off any suggestion their relationship was more personal than that. His constant use of it was enough to set Tara’s teeth on edge.
“I’m glad to hear that,” she lied with ease. “Just the same, though, there are plenty of other people qualified to handle all the auction details. Let me find one for you.”
“Thanks, but the auction’s not that far away. I would just as soon not change horses when I’m nearly to the other side of the stream.”
Although far from pleased with his decision, Tara gave in with as much good grace as she could muster. “You’re the boss. But if you should change your mind, let me know.”
“It’s not likely.”
“In the meantime, Ty, please don’t mention to Ballard that I complained about his behavior to me. I’m sure everyone here already hates me for buying Wolf Meadow. They will think I’m just trying to stir up more trouble. And I’m not. I’m trying to do the opposite and make everything right again.”
“I understand,” Ty said with a nod.
“Does that mean you won’t jump all over him after I leave?” Tara slanted him a teasing look.
“He deserves it.”
“Maybe he does, but it will just create more hard feelings. It will be enough if you keep your eye on him.”
“If that’s the way you want it,” Ty conceded.
“It is.” Tara smiled, satisfied that Ty would keep his word.
Chapter Fifteen
T
ara’s visit was the first of several during the next two weeks. Her excuses were as varied as the time of day she called, running the gamut from the auction to dropping off a wading pool for the twins.
ara’s visit was the first of several during the next two weeks. Her excuses were as varied as the time of day she called, running the gamut from the auction to dropping off a wading pool for the twins.
Regardless of the reasons she used, her frequent presence didn’t set well with the ranch hands, especially the older ones, who had weathered many a stormy time. Neither did Ty’s failure to show any objection to her visits. It had them looking sideways at him whenever Tara was around. And sometimes when she wasn’t.
As usual, Jessy was aware of it although nothing was ever overtly said to her. The ranch hands conveyed their feelings through seemingly innocuous remarks uttered in a voice dry with disapproval. In their eyes Tara was a traitor and they didn’t want her in the midst. It ground at them that Ty was allowing it. Yet if pressed, they admitted that Tara’s stated purposes for each of her visits allowed little room for objections.
Like this morning, when Tara had arrived at the Triple C headquarters around nine-thirty, with Buck Haskell behind the wheel and a horse trailer in tow. The purpose of her visit was simple: she was in the market for a pair of riding horses. And as Tara had been quick to point out, it was common knowledge that the Triple C had the best-trained mounts around.
Tara had spent the last two hours inspecting each of the dozen geldings available for sale, discussing the merits of each of them with Ty and occasionally seeking Buck Haskell’s opinion. Out of the twelve, she picked four that she asked to ride before making her final selection.
Standing outside the corral fence, Jessy had one arm wrapped firmly around Trey’s middle while he sat on the top rail, clapping his hands at the sight of the dappled-gray gelding cantering around the pen. For him, the big lure was horses, not the woman riding one. Every time he set foot outside The Homestead, Trey had only one destination in mind—the corrals.
The same couldn’t be said for the towheaded Laura as she straddled Jessy’s left hip, a fistful of wildflowers in her hand. She liked horses well enough, but her true fascination was with Tara. It was something Jessy couldn’t begin to understand or explain; she could only hope that Laura would outgrow it.
At almost eighteen months old, Laura was becoming the watcher of the two, and Trey was the doer. Trey was content to sit on the rail only as long as something was happening in the pen. The minute the action stopped, so would his interest.
Taking advantage of his momentary absorption, Jessy let her attention stray to the horse and rider. She made an assessing study of the big gray they called Iron Mike and found little to fault about him.
Jobe Garvey stood a few yards away, close enough that Jessy overheard when he muttered to Kyle Sullivan, “Bet you anything she picks the gray.”
“It’s a good horse,” Kyle replied.
“They’re all good usin’ horses, but she’s wantin’ somethin’ with flash. The gray and the stockinged chestnut are the only ones in this bunch that’s got any.”
He made a sound of disgust in his throat, turned his head to the side, and spat. “I don’t know why she’s makin’ such a big project out of this. It ain’t like she’s gonna work cattle with ’em. She wants ’em strictly for pleasure ridin’. Did ya’ hear what she said to Ty when she first got here?”
“No.”
“She said, ‘Oh Ty, darlin’,’ ” Jobe drawled in mimicry, giving his voice a high, girlish pitch. “That big open country just cries for me to get on a horse and ride across it.” His voice resumed its gravelly register, and Jessy averted her face to hide the smile she couldn’t suppress.
“It was enough to make ya’ sick,” Jobe declared. “Why, I remember when nothin’ around here was good enough for her.”
“Maybe she’s changed,” Kyle suggested.
“In a pig’s eye she has.” Jobe straightened away from the fence, alert to the fact Tara had just reined in next to Ty. She swung a leg out of the saddle.
Trey immediately began to fidget. Jessy lifted him off the fence and set him on the ground, quickly catching hold of his hand before he could take off.
“Hey, Jobe,” she called to the man. “As soon as Tara picks the horses she wants, would you throw a saddle on one of the others so I can give these two a ride?”
“Not a problem,” he replied.
Just as Jobe predicted, Tara chose the gray and the chestnut. While Buck supervised the loading of the two horses, Ty and Tara headed for The Homestead to take care of the necessary paperwork.
Laura was not at all happy about being left behind. Before she could lapse into a full-blown protest, the dun gelding that Jobe had saddled for Jessy nuzzled the flowers in Laura’s hand. She giggled at the velvety soft brush of its nose, temporarily forgetting about Tara.
Trey, on the other hand, was in his height of glory, perched atop the saddle, both hands wrapped around the horn while Jessy led the horse around the corral. When it was Laura’s turn to ride, Jessy made sure that Trey thought he had charge of the lead rope.
Keeping both twins entertained required her undivided attention. Jessy was unaware of Tara’s return until she heard the rumble and rattle of the truck and horse trailer pulling away from the barn. She spotted Ty heading toward the ranch commissary. She assumed he was going to meet with Bud Ramsey, who managed the store for them. Ty had mentioned at breakfast that he needed to get together with him that morning, but Tara’s arrival had necessitated a postponement.
A check of her watch indicated she had roughly an hour before lunch. Once again she hefted a skinny Trey onto the saddle.
“Okay, buster, two more turns around the corral then we have to call it quits so I can get you two cleaned up before lunch.”
Unconcerned, Trey grinned from ear to ear, satisfied to be back on the horse.
“Something tells me you aren’t gonna get any argument from him until you try to take him off,” Ballard remarked as he swung himself onto the corral’s top rail. “Looks like he’ll be quite the horseman when he grows up.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Jessy agreed with more than a little pride at the thought.
“Jobe tells me she bought a couple horses.” Ballard didn’t bother to identify Tara by name. On the Triple C, any use of the feminine pronoun invariably referred to Tara.
“That’s right.” Jessy continued walking the horse around the pen.
“I wonder how she’s gonna get them to Wolf Meadow,” Ballard mused absently.
“Probably the same way as always, she’ll fly in.”
“If it was me, I would pull up to one of the gates, offload the horses, throw a saddle on one, and lead the other through the gate.”
“Who knows? Maybe she will.”
“Did Ty have anybody to follow to see that she doesn’t?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him.” With the second and last circuit of the corral finished, Jessy led the horse to the gate.
Ballard hopped off the fence. “I’ll open that for you. You’ve got your hands full.”
He swung the gate wide, giving her plenty of room to pass. After the horse passed through, he dragged it shut and double-checked the latch.
“If you want, I’ll be happy to unsaddle him and turn him out,” Ballard offered.
“Thanks, but I can manage.”
“Not easily, I’ll wager.” His smile had a wry slant to it, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Not when you’ve got to deal with these two at the same time.”
“I never said it would be a breeze.” Jessy smiled back. “But I want Trey to learn he is responsible for the care of his own horse, not somebody else. And it is never too early to start teaching that.”
“You’ve got a point,” Ballard conceded. “I don’t know of anyone who’s been able to say that a Calder doesn’t pull his own weight.”
“And they aren’t going to start with Trey and Laura. Not if I have anything to say about it.”
“You can bet if they were her kids, she’d have somebody waitin’ on ’em hand and foot. They probably wouldn’t do anything for themselves, let alone saddle or unsaddle a horse.” He strolled along beside her and appreciatively sniffed the wilting flowers in Laura’s hand when she held them out to him. “According to Gabe, he overheard Ty agreeing to go over to her place Friday morning right before she left. I suppose you know about that.”
“I know Ty’s been talking about going. Why wonder what she’s doing when he can go look for himself.” Jessy knew that was what Ballard was really asking, not whether she was aware of Ty’s plans.
“You know, if Ty would share some of that, it might make everybody rest a little easier in their minds.” Ballard frowned thoughtfully as he studied the hard-packed ground before them. “Take the way he’s so friendly with her, for instance. It bothers ’em.”
“Maybe because they don’t know Tara as well as Ty does. Ty is convinced that she will eventually get tired of living here. Just like before, there won’t be enough to see or do, no parties, no bright lights. When that happens, Tara will sell. But if we treat her like an enemy now, she is liable to sell to an outsider just to spite us.”
“It makes sense.” Ballard nodded his head in agreement.
“Ty knows what he’s doing,” Jessy stated, privately wishing that she shared Ty’s confidence. On one point she certainly didn’t disagree with Ty: Tara was more than capable of selling to someone other than a Calder, purely out of spite. At the same time, Jessy didn’t trust the woman. Not on inch.
But Ty never made it to Wolf Meadow on Friday. As he was about to leave for there, word came of an accident to one of the men on the windmill crew. A misstep on a ladder had resulted in a twenty-foot fall.
Ty left it to Jessy to contact Tara and inform her that he wouldn’t be coming that morning. She dialed the mobile number Tara had given them. But someone other than Tara answered. Jessy waited while Tara was summoned to the phone.
“Tara, it’s Jessy. Ty asked me to call and let you know he won’t be able to make it this morning. There’s been an accident here at the ranch.”
“Ty isn’t hurt, is he?” There was real alarm in Tara’s voice.
“No. One of the men on the windmill crew took a bad fall. Beyond an obvious broken leg, we aren’t sure of the extent of his injuries. The last I heard he was still unconscious. Ty is on his way to pick up Amy Trumbo and take her to the scene,” Jessy explained, referring to the ranch nurse.
“Where did it happen?” Tara’s tone became brisk and businesslike, without any emotional edge.
“At windmill twenty-nine, down at South Branch.”
“I can have one of my helicopters there in twenty minutes. We can airlift him directly to the hospital.”
“Right now we have an ambulance on the way. Once the extent of his injuries can be determined, it might be necessary to fly him out. If it is, I’ll call you back. But either way, thanks for offering.”
“I just want to help any way I can,” Tara replied. “I do remember that’s the way it’s done out here. Everybody pulls together in a crisis.”
“That’s right,” Jessy agreed and hung up, wondering if the offer was prompted by genuine concern for the man’s welfare or to project the right image.
Fortunately the helicopter wasn’t needed. Beyond the broken leg and a concussion, the injured worker had only some severe bruising. By Monday, he was released from the hospital and sent home on crutches.
The fall, however, seemed to ignite a whole string of minor catastrophes over the next two weeks, everything from a grass fire along the road to Blue Moon that burned nearly a hundred acres to the sudden death of a prized broodmare that had the vet shaking his head in bewilderment.
Although none of these things was out of the ordinary, cowboys tended to be a superstitious lot. Some began to blame the bad luck the Triple C was experiencing on Tara’s return, recalling the tragedies and near tragedies that had plagued the ranch when she was married to Ty. There were those of the certain opinion that more of the same was on the way. The loss of Wolf Meadow was just the start of the trouble to come. It made for a gloomy and sometimes churlish atmosphere.
Armed with a dust rag and a feather duster, Sally Brogan entered the den. As usual, Chase sat behind the desk, frowning over some papers in front of him, his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose.
Hearing her footsteps, he looked up, glaring at her over the rim of his glasses. “What do you want?”
“Nothing. Just doing a little dusting.” She gave the dark-feathered duster a pointed shake and skipped her glance around the room, pursing her lips at the sight of the opened window that guaranteed a steady infiltration of dust. “Goodness knows, this room needs it.”
“Can’t you see I’m trying to get some work done?” Chase snapped.
His sharpness momentarily startled her, but Sally was quick to dismiss it. “My, you are irritable today.”
“Who wouldn’t be with all this damned paperwork to go through?” He jerked his glasses off and tapped the papers with them in emphasis then continued to gesture with them. “Not to mention that pile of forms waiting. And you decide the room needs to be cleaned. Well, clean it and be damned.” He pushed stiffly out of the chair despite the protest of his achy joints.
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