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Authors: Janet Dailey

BOOK: Green Calder Grass
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Chapter Two
L
ike a Texas whirlwind, Tara Dyson Calder swept up Sally the instant she spied the older woman.
“Sally. Thank God, you’re here.” Relief quivered through her voice. In the next second, her dark gaze bored into Sally, a kind of frantic distress in her expression that was totally alien to her nature. “Is it true?”
Startled and confused, Sally drew back, “Is what true?”
Tara dragged in a quick breath as if trying to gather her scattered wits. “Ty. I just heard. I’ve been in Europe the past two months—in Tuscany, then the South of France.” She shook her head, realizing none of that was important. “Someone just told me there had been a kidnapping attempt, and Ty was shot. Was he?”
“Yes—”
Tara never gave her a chance to say more. “How badly was he hurt? I demand you tell me. His arm, he isn’t going to lose it, is he?”
“No. He’s fine—”
“Are you certain? I heard—”
This time Sally interrupted her. “I can imagine what you heard. But Ty has almost completely recovered. Don’t take my word for it. You can see for yourself. He’s sitting right over there.” With a wave of her hand, she gestured in the general direction of their table.
Turning, Tara went motionless for a full second, her velvety-dark gaze drinking in the sight of him, her soft lips parting in pleasure and relief. With a practiced grace that had become as natural to her as breathing, Tara glided across the room to the table, clearly blind to anyone else.
Manners, too deeply ingrained to be ignored, brought both Ty and Chase to their feet. But Tara had eyes only for Ty. She was still a stunning woman. Time hadn’t dimmed at all the allure of her dark beauty. Ty could feel the animal pull of it. In some ways, it was all too familiar and, as a result, easier to resist.
“Tara. This is a surprise.” Without thinking, Ty extended a hand in greeting, and felt the smallness and softness of the one she placed in it.
“Ty.” Her voice was all silken emotion, caressing and low, and her dark eyes were bright with promise.
She let her hand stay in his a fraction of a second longer than propriety dictated. An instant later, she noticed the sling, and her expression clouded with a concern that made Ty oddly uncomfortable. “Ty, your arm.” Tara reached a hand toward it, then hesitated as if reluctant to touch his arm in case it might cause him pain.
“The sling comes off next week; then I’ll be good as new.”
“Thank God,” she declared with feeling, a hand theatrically fluttering to her throat. Belatedly Tara noticed Chase standing there. “You are looking well, Chase,” she said in greeting then tilted her head at a coy angle, striking a provocative pose that Ty recognized all too well. “Or isn’t it proper for me to address my ex-father-in-law by his first name?”
“It was good enough in the past; it’s good enough now. How are you, Tara?” Chase inclined his head, but didn’t offer his hand.
“Much better now that I have seen for myself that Ty will be fine,” Tara replied then deigned to acknowledge Jessy’s presence with a glance of cool challenge. “As I’m sure you feel, Jessy.”
Jessy responded with a cool look of her own. “Calders have always been quick to recover.”
But Jessy might as well have been talking to the wall for all the notice Tara gave as she switched her attention back to the two men. “After spending the last two months in Europe, then coming back to hear about the kidnapping attempt—it was such a shock. And when I learned Ty had been wounded—” Tara paused, leaving the sentence dangling to slide him a chiding look. “Honestly, Ty, hasn’t anyone ever told you that ex-husbands are only supposed to be shot by their former spouses?”
Her remark attained the desired reaction as his mouth quirked in a hard, familiar smile. “I guess no one has.”
“Then you need to remember that from now on,” Tara informed him, her eyes sparkling. “Your grandson,” she said to Chase, “I understood that he was unharmed?” The lilt of her voice made it a question.
“That’s correct.” Chase nodded.
“How very fortunate. Poor Cat, she must have been in agony. Is it true that she’s married to the local sheriff? Echohawk, I believe they said his name was.”
“Acting sheriff,” Ty corrected and half waited for Tara to make some slighting comment about either his occupation or native ancestry.
But Tara was too wise to make that kind of mistake. “Well, you can tell Cat for me that my feelings are hurt that she didn’t send me a wedding announcement.”
“I’ll pass that along to her.”
“On second thought, don’t bother,” Tara declared with an airy wave of her hand. “I’ll call and tell her myself as long as I’m here. It’s awful the way we have managed to lose touch these last few years after we were so close.”
“I’m sure Cat would like that,” Ty replied evenly, aware that his younger sister had always been fond of Tara.
“We were about to have dinner. Would you care to join us?” Chase motioned to an empty chair at their table, the invitation intended to prompt her departure.
It backfired.
“How kind of you to ask, Chase. I think I’ll pass on the dinner, but I would love to join you for a cup of coffee and catch up on all the family news.”
Tara took perverse satisfaction in the flicker of irritation that passed so briefly across Chase Calder’s expression. She had no illusions about his opinion of her. Regardless of her welcome—or lack thereof—she had no intentions of leaving until
she
was ready.
When Chase moved to pull out the empty chair for her, Tara turned away so she could make it appear she hadn’t noticed. Instead she swung around one of the chairs from a nearby table and positioned it so that she could sit between Ty and the loathsome woman he married. Tara hated Jessy. She always had. There wasn’t any doubt in her mind that, if it weren’t for that she-bitch Jessy Niles, there would have been no divorce and she would still be Ty’s wife.
Admittedly she and Ty had encountered some problems in their marriage, but none they couldn’t have worked out. Given enough time, Tara would have seen to it. That’s why she had strung out the divorce so long.
In truth, Tara had ultimately agreed to the divorce only when it became clear that the harder she fought Ty over it, the more determined he became about it. It was hardly surprising. The grass always looked greener in forbidden pastures. Now that he had had a chance to graze on it for a few years, Tara wondered just how much Ty still liked the taste of it. Surely he had wearied of Jessy by now.
After all, the woman was common as dirt, the daughter of an ordinary ranch hand. It was true that the bone structure of her face was quite good, classical in its line. Makeup would have done wonders to enhance it, but one glance had revealed to Tara that Jessy was totally devoid of any, except, perhaps, some lipstick. That same glance also told her that Jessy still didn’t wear the sort of clothes a Calder wife should. Cowboy boots, tan twills, and a sloppy white shirt were hardly suitable attire. Nor did Jessy know how to take care of her skin. Tara had been quick to notice all the feathery lines etched around Jessy’s mouth, nose, and eyes, lines emphasized by the golden tan that came from a failure to use protective sunscreen.
It was beyond question that Jessy suffered greatly in contrast to her. With the two of them sitting side by side, Ty was bound to notice the disparity. Tara was counting on it.
“So how have things been at the Triple C?” Tara angled herself toward Ty, effectively excluding Jessy from their conversation as Chase signaled for Sally to bring a cup of coffee for her.
“Fine.” Ty’s one-word answer was deliberately cool, almost as cold as the accusation in his eyes that seemed to convey he knew what she was up to.
Fully confident of her abilities, Tara was undeterred. “I’m glad some things have gone well for you.” She let her gaze slide to his shoulder sling, paused a beat while she summoned a subtle welling of tears, then gave an expressive little shudder. “Every time I think about that horrible moment when they told me you had been seriously wounded, I”—she lifted her head, letting him see the moisture in her eyes—“I was worried out of my mind about you, Ty. Crazy, isn’t it, after all this time apart.”
His glance fell from her face. “I appreciate your concern—”
“Concern?” Her low laugh was soft with mockery. “I was frantic with worry. Poor Sally must have thought I had taken leave of my senses over the way I grilled her about you when I first arrived. Thank heaven you never saw it. That would have been too embarrassing. Why, the way I was carrying on, a stranger would have thought we were still married.”
“Our divorce was final six years ago,” Ty reminded her smoothly.
“True. Six years, one week, and two days. But who’s counting?” She kept her smile light and playful, but the look in her eyes was something more serious. Truthfully Tara had no idea of the exact date of their divorce, but she doubted that Ty knew it either. “Look.” She raised her left hand, showing him the black opal ring on her finger. “I’m still wearing the engagement ring you gave me. I told you I was going to keep it. Even with the problems we had, we also had some very good times.”
“Dammit, Tara.” He pushed the words through gritted teeth, checked some further angry retort, and ground out instead, “It’s long past time you took that ring off.”
“Now you sound like Daddy,” Tara chided.
“How is your father?” Chase inserted, regarding her with an impenetrable expression.
“Daddy, he’s—”
“Doing quite well, thank you.” The male voice with its distinct Texas twang came from E.J. Dyson. Dressed as usual, in an expensive Western-cut suit and familiar white Stetson, he came to a halt beside Tara’s chair and cast an indulging smile at her head.
She glanced up in surprise. “What are you doing here, Daddy?”
“Looking for you, of course,” he replied then nodded to Chase. “Good to see you again, Calder. And you, too.” His encompassing glance included both Ty and Jessy. “It’s been a while.”
“Yes, it has,” Ty agreed. But it was the worn and weary look about the older man that had Ty narrowing his eyes to make a closer inspection. The man looked every bit of his seventy years and more.
“As you can see, I still have trouble keeping track of my daughter. Some things never change, I guess. Truthfully, I’m not sure I want them to.” E.J. laid a hand on Tara’s shoulder in affection, then turned a smiling glance on Ty. “I understand congratulations are in order for both you and your wife.”
Before Ty could respond, Tara looked up in confusion. “Congratulations? For what? Have I missed something?”
“Jessy is expecting,” E.J. informed her.
For the space of a heartbeat, Tara didn’t react at all. Then, slowly, she turned to look at Jessy. “You’re having a baby?” There was nothing, absolutely nothing, in the brightness of her voice that reflected the hatred that blazed in her dark eyes.
Inwardly, Jessy recoiled from it, but outwardly she maintained a calm composure. “Twins, actually.”
“Twins,” Tara repeated. “How wonderful. And when is this blessed event to be?” She directed the question to Ty.
“Early December.”
“In time for Christmas. Isn’t that perfect timing?” Tara declared then gave Ty one of her patented, sidelong looks. “Papa Ty,” she teased. “I can see you now, passing out cigars. Daddy, we really must remember to send Ty a box of Cuban cigars, so he can celebrate the birth of the twins in style.” Graceful as a doe, Tara rose from her chair and tucked a hand in the crook of her father’s arm. “Daddy’s come to drag me off to some dreary dinner with his mine supervisor, so I might as well leave willingly. Please give my love to Cat in case I don’t have time to call her this trip, will you, Ty?”
“I will.” Ty made a brief show of rising then settled back in his chair when the pair moved away from the table. There was a vaguely preoccupied air about him as he sent Jessy a half-apologetic glance. “With any luck, it will be another six years before we see her again.”
“We can only hope.” Few things ever unsettled Jessy, but the look of pure hatred in Tara’s eyes had.
“That reminds me,” Chase began, “I ran into your father this afternoon.”
He went on to explain about the rotted fence post. After which the conversation moved into a general discussion on the overall condition of the fencing on the ranch, replacement costs, and the massive man-hours the task would require. The subject of Tara wasn’t raised again.
 
 
A three-quarter moon on the wane rode high in the night sky. Its bright glow dimmed the sparkle of the blanketing stars. But the multitude of them was still awesome, stretching from horizon to horizon, from infinity to beyond. Barefoot and clad in a tan sleeper-tee that outlined the growing roundness of her stomach, Jessy stood at the second-floor window of the spacious master bedroom and gazed at the vastness of the Montana night sky.
Below her line of vision was the sprawling collection of outbuildings, barns, storage sheds, commissary, and housing that comprised the headquarters of the Triple C. In size, it was that of a small town, something a stranger might marvel over, but Jessy was too accustomed to it to notice. It had not the mystery of the starry sky.

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