Read Shifting Calder Wind Online
Authors: Janet Dailey
Shifting Calder Wind (6 page)
“I was married to his son.” She lifted the wineglass and took a dainty sip.
He caught her use of the past tense and guessed that at some point they had gotten a divorce. “To tell you the truth, I half expected the son would be the one who came to claim the body.”
“Don’t you know?” Anguish deepened the velvety darkness of her eyes. “Ty was killed nearly two years ago.”
“Killed?” He made no attempt to mask his surprise. “How?”
“He was murdered.” Her voice trembled with a tightly controlled anger tinged with bitterness.
He thought immediately of the attempt on Chase’s life. “Did they ever catch his killer?”
“Yes.”
Her clipped, one-word response served only to feed his suspicions. “Was any motive established at the killer’s trial?”
“There was no trial. Ballard was killed by Buck when he tried to stab Chase.”
“Who is Buck?” Laredo was determined to gather as much information as possible to help Chase fill in some of the blanks and possibly trigger the return of his memory. And if that didn’t work, he would at least know some of the players in his life.
“Buck Haskell. He works for me.”
He arched an eyebrow in confusion. “Don’t you live here in Fort Worth?”
“Yes, but I also have a summer home on the Triple C. Buck looks after it for me when I’m not there.” She seemed to realize the incongruity of her statement. “I know it must seem strange that I would keep a home there after our divorce, but I still regard the Calders as my family. Cat is like a little sister to me. And there are the twins. They are as precious to me as if they were my own.”
“The twins,” he repeated, not sure if these were more of Chase’s children.
“Yes. They are Ty’s by his second marriage. A boy and a beautiful little girl.”
“Chase’s grandchildren.” Laredo nodded as if remembering them only at that moment. “What are their names again?”
“The little girl is Laura and the boy is Trey. Actually, Trey is named Chase Benteen Calder, after his grandfather. But Chase referred to him as his little ‘trey spot’ almost from the moment he came home from the hospital. And the name Trey stuck.” She swirled the wine in her glass. “It’s probably just as well that it did. It would have become confusing to have two people called Chase in the house, especially for the child.”
“It certainly would.” He took advantage of her willingness to speak about the family, recognizing that people found it easier to open up to a stranger. “I don’t mean to sound nosy, but I can’t help wondering why you seem so sure that this man Ballard killed Chase’s son when he never came to trial. I know it’s logical to think that, since he made an attempt on Chase’s life, but . . .” He let the sentence hang with a question mark.
“Because Ballard admitted it to Jessy before he died.” Something in her expression told him that Ty’s death was a subject she found particularly painful. Was she still in love with the man, or was there another reason for it?
“Who is Jessy?” he asked, shifting the focus.
“Ty’s second wife.” Her voice had an edge to it. Clearly Jessy was not popular with her, but few ex-wives did like the women who supplanted them in their husband’s affections.
“I guess the Calder ranch will pass into the daughter’s hands,” Laredo remarked, seeking information without asking for it.
“As I understand, Jessy will be in charge.” The dislike in her voice thickened.
“Really?” He arched an eyebrow, suspicion sharpening. “Whose idea was that?”
“Actually, it’s what Chase wanted.” She took a big swallow of wine as if washing down a bad taste.
“Really,” Laredo murmured, much less skeptically. “I guess he would know whether she was qualified to run it or not.”
“Oh, she has the qualifications,” Tara agreed with an undertone of sarcasm. “She was born and raised on the ranch, just like her father and his father before that.”
“Sounds like a clannish bunch.” His comment evoked only silence from her, which served as a kind of confirmation. Laredo wondered how welcome Tara had felt coming there as a new bride. And he also wondered how tolerant this elegant woman had been of the ranch hands. No doubt she was more at home in Fort Worth society than a ranch setting. “When will the funeral be? Have they said?”
“It’s tentatively planned for Tuesday.” She ran her glance over his face, curious and measuring. “Do you plan to attend?”
“I was thinking about it. What’s the closest airport?”
“Commercially? That would be Miles City.”
“Do you usually fly into there?”
“No. My company has a landing strip at Blue Moon. I use it,” she explained. “It’s much closer to the ranch. I imagine most people will make use of the airstrip at the Triple C.”
“I forgot. The ranch has its own landing strip, doesn’t it,” he guessed.
“Yes.” Idly she held the wineglass by its stem and swept a skimming glance over his boots, jeans, and hat. “What business are you in? Cattle or oil?”
“In Fort Worth, it’s usually one or the other, isn’t it?” He smiled, deflecting the question. “Wasn’t it Amon Carter who said: ‘Fort Worth is where the West begins. Dallas is where the East peters out.’ ”
“Something like that,” Tara agreed with a clear lack of interest. “So which is it? Cattle?”
“Yup,” he lied. “I met Chase several years ago at a function of the cattlemen’s association.” He downed a quick swallow of beer and pushed off the stool. “I’d best be going or I’ll be late for my appointment. It’s been nice talking to you. Pass on my sympathies to the family. Maybe I’ll see you again at the funeral.”
He left the hotel bar before she could ask his name, a plan of action beginning to take shape in his mind.
The windmill’s long blades went round and round, pushed by a strong south breeze. Each rotation was punctuated by a grinding squeak, a sure sign it needed oiling.
Too restless to remain in the house and too weak to venture very far, Chase sat in an old high-backed wooden rocker on the front porch. The steady breeze kept the afternoon heat from becoming too unbearable and brought the familiar smells of the land to him. His gaze wandered over the Texas landscape with its high, rolling hills covered with sun-seared grass. Trees were few, confined mainly to watercourses.
Idly he studied the cattle grazing in the fenced pastures. For the most part they were crossbreeds, a mix of Brangus and Black Baldies. None were branded, only ear-tagged. The observation prompted him to glance again at the old branding iron hanging on a porch post as decoration of sorts.
On impulse, he pushed out of the rocker and wandered over to the post, lifted the branding iron off its nail, and turned it upside down. C- was the brand. He had the odd feeling it should mean something to him, although he didn’t know why a Texas brand should be familiar to him, not when he was supposed to be from Montana.
He decided it was the letter C. Maybe he really was Chase Calder, even though the name sounded as alien to him as Duke. He sighed, frustrated by the damnedable blankness of his mind.
Off to his left, Hattie elbowed the screen door open and walked onto the porch carrying two tall tumblers. “I thought you might like a glass of lemonade.”
“Sounds good.” He hooked the branding iron back on its nail. “Where did you find the old iron?”
“In an old shed—and I mean
old
—that used to sit where the barn is.” Hattie paused beside the post and gazed at the branding iron in a remembering way. “When we were hauling stuff out of it prior to bulldozing it down, I grabbed up a stack of old feed sacks that I thought I might use for something, and the branding iron was sandwiched among them.” Turning, she flashed him a wry smile. “I ended up throwing the feed sacks away and keeping it.”
old
—that used to sit where the barn is.” Hattie paused beside the post and gazed at the branding iron in a remembering way. “When we were hauling stuff out of it prior to bulldozing it down, I grabbed up a stack of old feed sacks that I thought I might use for something, and the branding iron was sandwiched among them.” Turning, she flashed him a wry smile. “I ended up throwing the feed sacks away and keeping it.”
“It’s been well used.”
“Yes. If only it could talk, I’ll bet it would have a lot of stories it could tell about the old days.”
He knew he must have stories of his own to tell, but he couldn’t remember them. He downed a long swallow of the tartly sweet lemonade, his glance running to the dirt lane, seemingly on its own accord.
Lowering the tumbler, he pondered aloud, “I wonder when Laredo will be back.”
“You know what they say about a watched pot.” Hattie eyed him with a knowing look.
“Point taken.” He eased himself back into the rocking chair, conscious of the faint trembling in his leg muscles.
“Still weak, aren’t you,” Hattie observed.
“A little.” It went against the grain to admit it, but there was no hiding it from this woman.
“It will take your body some time to build back up its blood supply. You probably should have had a transfusion. As soon as you finish your lemonade, I’ll change the bandage and see how it’s healing.”
“Maybe this time you can bandage it in something smaller than this turban.” He raised a hand to the gauze strips that circled much of his head.
“I probably could if I shaved your head, but I don’t think you would look good bald,” Hattie replied, a mischievous glint in her dark eyes.
His mouth crooked in an answering smile. “I’ll keep my hair, thank you.”
“I thought you would.”
At the top of the porch steps, the yellow dog lifted its head to stare down the lane, ears pricking at some distant sound. A growl started deep in its throat then escalated to an eager whine as his wagging tail thumped the wooden floorboards.
“Laredo must be coming,” Hattie guessed, her own gaze shifting to the ranch lane.
When the pickup pulled into view, the dog bounded off the porch and raced to meet it, barking a welcome. He ran alongside of it until it stopped close to the house, then danced impatiently by the driver’s door waiting for Laredo to step out. Laredo obligingly rumpled the dog’s ears and walked up the cracked concrete sidewalk to the front porch.
“What did you find out?” Chase asked as Laredo mounted the steps.
“I know your funeral is scheduled for Tuesday.” Joining them on the porch, Laredo hooked a hip on the rail, his body angled toward Chase, and tipped his hat to the back of his head.
His mouth quirked briefly at the wry humor in Laredo’s remark. “Back in Montana, I assume.”
Laredo nodded. “The services will be held at your ranch. The closest town is a place called Blue Moon. Does that ring a bell?”
“No. What else did you learn?”
“I saw your daughter. Fortunately she doesn’t look anything like you. She’s slim and petite with black hair and green eyes, somewhere in her late twenties to early thirties. They call her Cat.” But there was nothing in Chase’s expression that suggested to Laredo he remembered any of this. He went on to describe the son-in-law and former daughter-in-law Tara, then explained about the death of the son Ty, the wife and twins he left behind, and the assumption that Ty’s widow would take over the ranch’s operation. When he finished, he paused a beat then shrugged. “That’s about it, I guess.”
“You never mentioned Calder’s wife.” He still found it difficult to think of himself as Chase Calder.
“No one else mentioned her either, and I couldn’t think of a way to ask about her when I claimed to know you. But I think it’s safe to say that she probably died some years ago. But if your daughter looks anything like her, she must have been a beauty.”
The names whirled through his head—Ty, Cat, Jessy, Trey, Laura, Tara—every one of them meaningless. He threw a challenging look at Laredo. “You still think I’m this Chase Calder?”
“I didn’t hear anything to cause me to change my mind,” he replied evenly.
“You mentioned that my son was killed. Do you think there is any connection between his death and the attempt on my life?”
“There doesn’t appear to be,” Laredo answered. “But you are the only one who can say for sure about that.”
“And I don’t remember.” The frustration of that was galling.
“I think you have answered all the questions that you can from here,” Laredo stated. “If you want to learn anything more, you’ll need to go to Montana.”
“I agree.” He also knew it was the only way to find out whether he was really Chase Calder. But how would he get there—without tipping his hand—when he was flat broke.
“That pickup has some high mileage on it, but I think it will make it to Montana.” Laredo eyed him with quiet interest.
“You aren’t suggesting that Duke try to drive there in his condition, are you?” Hattie looked at him aghast.
“No.” Laredo didn’t blink an eye. “Actually I was thinking along the lines of driving him there myself. What are the chances of you getting someone to do your chores for you, Hattie? I would feel a lot better if you came along with us. I know Duke is on the mend, but . . .” He let the word trail off.
His proposal caught her off guard, but nothing ever threw Hattie for long. Her dark gaze made a critical appraisal of her patient.
“That wound will need to be watched closely for infection these next few days,” she murmured, half to herself. With the matter settled in her mind, she made an abrupt pivot and strode to the door. “I’ll call McFarland. I did his chores while he and Joy Ann went to their son’s wedding in Phoenix. He owes me.”
Other books
The King's Falcon (Roundheads & Cavaliers Book 3) by Stella Riley
The Newsy News Newsletter by Karen English
A Planned Improvisation by Feinstein, Jonathan Edward
Backstage Demands by Kristina King
Slave Jade by Claire Thompson
Ain't No Wifey by J., Jahquel
Clarity 2 by Lost, Loretta
Madness or Love (Be With Me Book 1) by Bodur, Selina
The Line Between Us by Kate Dunn
Aftershocks by Nancy Warren
