Read Green Calder Grass Online
Authors: Janet Dailey
Green Calder Grass (22 page)
It was on the tip of Jessy’s tongue to throw it in Ty’s face that she had warned him all along that Tara wasn’t to be trusted. But she was wise enough to know that indulging in I-told-you-so was a waste of precious energies when they needed to concentrate their efforts on dealing with this new circumstance.
“What does she plan to do with it?” Jessy asked instead, every inch of her intent on his answer.
“She claims she wants to live on it.” Ty was obviously not completely convinced of that. “But we’ll have a better idea of her intentions after Friday.”
“Why Friday?” Cat frowned.
“She’s coming to dinner—at her suggestion,” Ty added with dry emphasis. “Afterwards we will sit down and talk.”
“She’s after the coal, Ty.” It was the only explanation that made sense to Jessy. “It was what her father wanted. Now she intends to fulfill his dream for it.”
“If it is, she will play hell getting it out.”
Chapter Thirteen
N
ews of Tara’s purchase of the Wolf Meadow range spread across the Triple C faster than a summer squall. By the middle of the week there wasn’t a single individual who hadn’t heard about it. Only the very young ones failed to understand its significance.
ews of Tara’s purchase of the Wolf Meadow range spread across the Triple C faster than a summer squall. By the middle of the week there wasn’t a single individual who hadn’t heard about it. Only the very young ones failed to understand its significance.
Mention of it was never made around anyone in the Calder household. But Jessy found it impossible not to be aware of the watchful glances directed her way each time she ventured out of The Homestead. They were all waiting to see what was going to be done about it, which increased the subtle tension that gripped all of them.
Patience had always been a forte of hers, but even Jessy found the waiting difficult. Keeping her mind occupied was the best antidote for it. And there was no better way to do that than astride a green-broke horse.
The three-year-old stud colt tugged at the bit, its muscles bunching with eagerness for a faster pace, but he maintained the sedate trot Jessy had set around the training pen. The colt was a flashy buckskin with a sharply white blaze down its face, jet-black mane, tail, and leg stockings, and its coat was that yellow-gold color associated with a palomino. His registered name was Lion’s Paw, but Jessy had long ago dubbed him Dandy, short for Dandelion.
Halfway along the corral fence, Jessy signaled the colt to cut across it with a combination of leg cues, weight shift, and rein pressure. As always, the buckskin’s response was lightning quick. One bit of inattention on her part and Jessy knew the colt had the ability to jump out from under her and leave her sitting in the air. That awareness was enough to keep her alert to every flex and shift of its muscle.
As if on cue, the colt broke stride, snorting in alarm as he rolled an eye at the cowboy climbing onto the opposite fence rail. Without difficulty, Jessy straightened the colt back up and brought him down to a walk. Only then did she let her attention stray long enough to identify Ballard with a quick glance his way.
“That’s not fair, Jessy,” Ballard protested. “He was wantin’ an excuse to run and kick up his heels.”
“And he would have done just that if I had given him a chance.” Reaching forward, she stroked the buckskin’s sleek neck.
“The twins must be takin’ their afternoon nap,” Ballard guessed.
“They fell asleep about twenty minutes ago,” Jessy confirmed.
Ballard ran an admiring eye over the horse. “That colt is definitely something special.”
“He should be. He is a double grandson to Cougar.” She referred to the long-dead ranch stallion that had sired nearly all of the Triple C’s top cow horses. “I can hardly wait until he is ready to work cattle.”
“From what I’ve heard, if he’s anything like his granddaddy, he’ll be a natural.” Ballard continued to study the three-year-old. “How’s he comin’ along?”
“Fast,” Jessy admitted. “He’s already getting bored with the routine of the training pen.”
“In that case, give me a couple minutes to saddle up Jake and we’ll take a ride down by the river and give the colt a chance to stretch its legs a little.”
“Sounds good,” Jessy agreed. “By the time you’re ready, I should have most of the freshness worked out of him.”
The dun gelding Ballard rode provided a steadying influence for the colt. Just the same Jessy had her hands full when she first rode the buckskin out of the pen. They were halfway to the river before he stopped his dancing and sidestepping and settled into a brisk walk.
With the gelding leading the way, they crossed the river at its shallow point, climbed the sloping bank, and headed into the grass expanse beyond it at an easy lope. The sun was warm on Jessy’s face, and the south breeze had a hint of wildness in it.
A half-mile from the ranch headquarters, Ballard reined his horse down to a walk. Jessy followed suit, and the young colt raised no objections to the slower pace.
“He’s settled down in fine shape,” Ballard observed, noting the young horse’s quietness.
“He has,” Jessy agreed absently while her gaze took in the broad expanse of plains before them, rugged and rolling into forever.
For a long time, Ballard said nothing more. The stretch of silence was unlike him and Jessy was too used to his gab not to notice its absence.
Just about the time it started to become uncomfortable, he said, “You know the whole ranch is buzzing about Tara buying Wolf Meadow.”
“Mom told me,” Jessy admitted although she had guessed it long before that.
“Helicopters have been seen flying in and out of there a half-dozen times a day. Talk is she’s buildin’ something.”
“I’ve heard that, too.”
There was a pressed tightness about his mouth. “I knew the minute she showed up again that woman was going to bring trouble—just like before,” he muttered thickly. “If Ty had a lick of sense, he would have shown her the door and given her a shove out of it. But not him. He let her become a fixture around here.” He cocked his head at Jessy, a curious but sober glint in his eye. “Of course, the question is—what is he going to do about her now?”
“You’ll know when everybody else does,” Jessy retorted. “And don’t be bad-mouthing Ty to me.”
“You’re married to him so you have to stand up for him, I understand that,” Ballard said with an accepting nod of his head. “But you’ve gotta understand that I’m only saying what everybody else is.”
“Maybe so, but I don’t want to hear it.”
Deliberately ignoring her, he continued, “Nobody would be sayin’ much if it wasn’t for the fact the old man is slippin’. There was a time if anybody crossed him, he would’a been on ’em like a lightning bolt. But he isn’t the tough old bird he once was. And Ty is too soft to move against a woman. He finds it even harder to go against that one. She’s always had some sort of spell over him. Leastwise, that’s the talk,” Ballard added, as if to assert it wasn’t coming from him.
Angry, mostly because she knew that was likely what was being said, Jessy shot back, “Don’t underestimate either of them. Spread that word.”
She reined the buckskin around, pointing him back toward the Triple C headquarters, and urged him into a canter. Ballard brought his mount alongside, aware that she was setting a pace that discouraged further conversation.
That was fine with him. He had said what he had to say, though there was a good deal more he had left unsaid. He had his own suspicions about Tara’s plans. To him, they were as obvious as a tree in the middle of a prairie.
Now that she had her hands on the perfect bait to guarantee success—Wolf Meadow, she would have Ty jumping through hoops to get it.
Promptly at six-thirty on Friday evening, a black Range Rover with Texas license plates pulled up to The Homestead. Ty waited at the top of the steps, his eyes narrowing in an effort to penetrate the windshield’s tinted glass and identify the hatted figure behind the wheel.
Buck Haskell stepped out of the driver’s side, dressed in jeans, a white shirt, and a Western-style blazer. There was a smug gleam in his eyes when he met Ty’s gaze. Without a word, he came around the front of the Rover and opened the rear passenger door, extending an assisting hand to Tara.
With typical grace, she emerged from the vehicle, suitably attired for a business dinner in a tailored, but flattering, navy pinstriped suit and spectator pumps.
Ty stayed where he was, quietly watching while Buck escorted Tara to the front steps. Only when she was about to ascend did Ty speak.
“He isn’t welcome inside.”
Looking up, Tara replied smoothly, “He is with me.”
“So I see. Just the same, he isn’t coming inside,” Ty stated with steely calm. “You can come in by yourself or stay out here with him. It’s your choice.”
Tara studied him for a considering moment, then murmured to Buck, “Wait here.”
Dipping his head in mock obedience, he touched a finger to his hat and grinned. “With pleasure, ma’am. This way I don’t have to worry about someone slippin’ poison in my food.”
“And our meal will be more enjoyable for the same reason.” Ty swung away from the steps and crossed to the front door then held it open for Tara to precede him into the house.
Inside the foyer, she paused to smile up at him. “I truly didn’t mean for our meeting to start off on the wrong foot.”
“Don’t worry. It didn’t.” He motioned toward the dining room. “Dinner is ready. I believe you know the way.”
“No drinks in the den first?” Tara chided lightly.
“It didn’t seem appropriate.”
“Perhaps not,” she agreed.
Jessy was busy buckling Trey into his highchair when Tara entered the dining room followed by Ty. Little Laura was her traitorous self, squealing with delight at the sight of Tara.
In an odd way, Jessy was equally glad to see Tara. Her presence signaled an end to a week’s worth of waiting. That alone was something to celebrate.
“Hello, Tara.” Jessy scooted Trey’s highchair closer to the table. “Please have a seat. Sally is bringing the food in now.”
“In that case, I will give her a hand.” Tara slipped the strap of her shoulder bag over the corner of a chair back and moved toward the kitchen.
“That isn’t necessary,” Jessy began.
“Nonsense. It’s the least I can do after the way I invited myself to dinner,” Tara insisted and continued to the kitchen.
When Jessy stepped away from the highchair, Ty said, “Let her go.”
“I wasn’t going to stop her,” Jessy replied. Just the same she was irked that the woman would act as if nothing had changed.
Chase shuffled into the dining room and halted, his glance shooting around the room before stopping on Ty.
“Where is Tara?”
“In the kitchen giving Sally a hand.”
Chase harrumphed and started toward the chair at the head of the table. “That woman has nerve.”
“She brought Buck with her.” Ty pulled out his customary chair to the right of his father.
That stopped Chase again. “Where is he now?”
“Waiting outside.”
Stepping to the window, Chase lifted aside the curtain and looked out. Just as abruptly, he crossed to the dining room extension and picked up the receiver. Squinting at the numbers, he punched out a series of them. “Jobe. It’s Chase Calder. Get two men over to The Homestead on the double. Buck Haskell is out front. I want him watched the whole time he is here. And I want him to know that he’s being watched.” After a short pause, he responded to a question from the man. “If he wants to go to the cemetery and visit his mother’s grave, that’s fine. But nowhere else.”
“He wouldn’t be fool enough to try anything tonight,” Ty said after Chase hung up.
“I agree.” Untroubled, Chase crossed to his chair and sat down. “But why let him relax and get comfortable?”
Sally had her back to the connecting door when Tara walked into the kitchen. “Something smells delicious in here,” Tara declared with airy brightness.
Startled, Sally turned around, a look of shock on her face at the sight of Tara. Immediately she pressed her lips together in a tight line of disapproval, all stiff and cool.
“What are you doing in here?”
“I came to give you a hand carrying things in.” Tara crossed to the counter where a serving platter held a long roll of pastry-wrapped meat. Appreciatively she inhaled the steamy aromas emanating from it. “Beef Wellington. You always do it so well.”
“I don’t need any help, thank you very much.” Sally was deliberately curt. “I prefer to do it myself.”
“Sally,” Tara murmured with a wounded look, “you aren’t angry with me, too, are you?”
“After what you did, I am surprised that you would dare to show your face around here.” Her movements were as crisp and quick as her voice as Sally retrieved serving spoons from the utensil drawer and stuffed them in the various dishes.
“Sally.” Tara moved to the woman’s side, placing both hands on her arm in silent supplication. “You, of all people, should understand why I did it.”
Ignoring her plea, Sally declared, “Chase should have thrown you out. Why he ever agreed to this is beyond me.”
“But, Sally—”
“Don’t you but Sally me.” She turned on her, the brightness of angry tears burning in her eyes. “I trusted you. I honestly thought—” She clamped her mouth shut on the rest of the sentence and pivoted away, shoulders rigid.
“Every word I told you was true,” Tara assured her. “That’s why I bought the land—so I could be near him.”
“But to buy
that
land.” Sally kept her back to Tara. “How could you buy that piece? You know how much Chase has wanted it.”
that
land.” Sally kept her back to Tara. “How could you buy that piece? You know how much Chase has wanted it.”
“Of course I know. But don’t you see, now that I own it, it’s practically the same as if he did. In a manner of speaking, it’s in the family now.”
Half turning, Sally searched Tara’s face, her own expression wary yet hopeful. “Are you saying that you intend to deed it over to him?”
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