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Authors: Janet Dailey

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BOOK: Green Calder Grass
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When the telephone rang, Ty excused himself from the table to answer it and crossed to the dining room extension. “Triple C Ranch, Ty speaking.”
“Ty. It’s Tara. You left an urgent message for me to call you. I—”
“Yes, I did.” He cut across her words, wasting no time with preliminaries. “It’s about your helicopters. They are flying so low over our range, they’re spooking our cattle.”
“Ty, I’m sorry. I had no idea,” Tara rushed in apology. “I’ll put a stop to it at once.”
“I’d appreciate it if you would.”
“As you pointed out, we are neighbors.” Her voice softened, all conciliatory. “If I had given it a moment’s thought, I would never have allowed it to happen in the first place, but it never crossed my mind that I would need to warn the pilots about flying too low. By the way,” Tara continued without a break, “would it be convenient if I came by the ranch tomorrow morning? I took the liberty of picking up the sale catalogs from the printers and thought I would drop them off.”
“What time?”
“Between ten-thirty and eleven. Would that suit you?”
“I’ll be here.”
“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow then,” she said and rang off.
Chase glanced at him expectantly. “Tara?”
“Yes.” Ty turned from the phone. “She said she would take care of the problem with the helicopters right away.”
“Let’s hope she does,” Chase grunted.
“She will,” Ty said.
“How can you be so sure of that?” Cat challenged, voicing Jessy’s very thought.
“Because I don’t think she wants to do anything more to cross us, at least not intentionally.” Ty resumed his seat at the table. “And all those helicopters indicate to me that she isn’t going to make an attempt to cross our land—and probably won’t for a good long while.”
“Just the same, I asked Uncle Culley to keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary,” Cat stated. “He promised he would.”
 
 
Stars dusted the night sky, glittering brightly amid the darkness. Culley O’Rourke knew them all. They had been his companions on many an evening ride; they were as familiar to him as the gelding he rode. It was that familiarity with all things of the night that made him quick to notice the faint glow in the distance.
He reined his horse to study it. As dry as the land was, fire was Culley’s first thought. He tested the wind but detected no trace of smoke in it. The glow was steady, without the wane and leap of moving flames.
“That’s no fire,” he murmured to his horse. “Let’s go take a look-see.”
The decision was born out of his own curiosity reinforced by the remembered request from Cat to keep an eye out for anything unusual.
In no hurry, Culley swung the gelding’s head toward the distant glow and urged it forward at an easy shuffling trot. Culley and sleep had never been frequent companions. As he had gotten older, it seemed he needed less and less of it. A couple three catnaps a day seemed to do him just fine.
These night rambles had become a habit with him. Culley liked having the sky above him and a wide stretch of land on each side. Nothing made him restless quicker than being confined within four walls, shut away from the wild smell of the wind.
Over the years Culley had learned the slow and the fast way to just about anywhere on the Triple C. Tonight he chose the easy way, seeing no need to tire either himself or his mount.
It didn’t take him long to figure out the glow was coming from somewhere on the Wolf Meadow range. He couldn’t help smiling at the recollection that Tara had bought that land out from under Calder’s nose. He knew Cat had been mighty upset over it, but Culley figured Calder had been due for a comeuppance. Because of Cat, he didn’t take as much pleasure in it as he once might have. But he definitely didn’t lose any sleep over it.
The closer he got to the light, the bigger and brighter it became. It reminded him of the glow from a city, reaching out to dim all but the brightest stars. As near as he could tell, it was coming from the area of that old windmill not far from Antelope Butte. If he remembered right, Cat had said something about Tara planning to build a house out here. But that still didn’t solve the puzzle of the light.
Less than a mile from its source, Culley reined his horse to a walk. The rolling terrain still blocked his view, but he began to pick up the low rumble of machinery.
Following a fold in the plains, he worked his way around to approach the site from the far side of the bluff. The noise was louder now, the light reaching out to deepen the shadows around him. Turning cautious, Culley pulled his horse up behind a low rise and dismounted, dropping the reins to ground-tie the gelding. On silent feet, he moved toward the rise.
“Well, well, well,” a familiar voice drawled on his right. “If it ain’t Culley O’Rourke himself.”
Culley froze on the spot. With a fractional turn of his head, he swept his gaze over the shadows, searching for the owner of that voice he couldn’t quite place. There was a whisper of movement, the grass against a leather boot. Culley zeroed in on the sound just as a figure separated itself from the darkness. The reflected glow from the other side of the rise touched the face of an old man. The features weren’t quite the same, but Culley was quick to recognize that grin. It could only belong to one man—Buck Haskell.
Even after identifying him, Culley didn’t venture a reply. He remained motionless, fully alert and fully aware of the rifle casually cradled in Buck’s arm.
“You know you’re trespassin’, Culley,” Buck remarked idly and strolled into the open.
“What’re ya’ gonna do about it?” Culley watched him with care.
“I guess it depends on whether you came to make mischief or not.”
“I saw the glow.”
Nodding, Buck glanced toward the light. “It’s kinda hard to miss.”
“You can see it for miles.” Culley didn’t take his eyes off Buck. “What’s makin’ it?”
“Giant floodlights,” Buck replied easily. “Come on. We’ll take a look.”
Veering to the side, Buck started up the low rise. Culley let Buck take the lead then followed, keeping a little distance to one side of him.
Culley didn’t bother to climb all the way to the top, just far enough to have an unobstructed view of the other side. A half-dozen huge floodlights, mounted atop towering poles, surrounded a work site. The blinding brilliance of them made the entire area bright as daylight. Culley stared at the men and machinery in constant but unhurried motion. Accustomed as he was to the softness of night sounds, the racket of revving engines and droning generators was loud to his ears, even at this distance.
“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” Buck remarked.
“How come they’re workin’ so late?” That’s what puzzled Culley.
“The duchess decided she wants the house done by fall, so she put the construction on a fast track. Work goes on twenty-four hours a day. And not just here either,” he added. “Instead of ferryin’ all the lumber here by chopper, crews in Blue Moon are buildin’ the framework there so it can be flown out in sections and set in place. In a couple weeks, they figure to be puttin’ the finishin’ touches on the outside and goin’ full bore on the inside.”
Culley frowned. “The duchess?”
Buck smiled crookedly. “That’s what I call Tara. She’s definitely the queen bee around here.”
“I heard you were workin’ for her.”
“To tell you the truth, O’Rourke, I’ve never had an easier job or better pay.”
Culley continued to scan the area before him, not content until he finally spotted the windmill’s black skeleton silhouetted against the night just beyond the reach of the lights. His curiosity satisfied, he turned and headed down the slope toward his horse.
“You aren’t leavin’ already, are you?” Buck chided.
“Already seen what I came for.” In Culley’s thinking, there was no more reason to stay.
“I guess you gotta rush off and report this to Calder.” Buck’s voice sounded closer, an indication he had trailed him down the slope.
“No need. He’ll find out soon enough on his own.”
“I reckon he will. Don’t you know he’ll be mad when he does. He figured to slow her down by not letting her cross Calder land. But it just kicked the duchess into high gear.” After a slight break, Buck said, “Still hate him, do you?”
“I let him be, and Calder lets me be,” Culley replied without emotion.
“That’s what happens when a body gets older, I guess. But I noticed age hasn’t stopped you from ghostin’ around this country at night. I’ve been sittin’ out here for two nights, waitin’ for you to show up. The ground was gettin’ a little hard for these old bones of mine. Say, I still have some coffee left in my thermos over here. Want a cup?”
“No thanks.” Culley gathered up the trailing reins to his horse.
“You never were very sociable,” Buck recalled.
“And you were never my friend.” Culley stepped to the saddle, a hand on the horn.
“That’s true,” Buck agreed. “All we ever shared was a mutual hatred for Calder.”
“Maybe.” Culley shot him a hard, accusing glance. “But I ain’t forgetting you once tried to kill my sister.”
“You and I both know it was the boy I was after. Maggie got in the way. But I didn’t hurt her,” Buck reminded him, then shrugged. “That was all a long time ago. And I did my time for it.” He watched as Culley hauled himself into the saddle, not as effortlessly as he once had. “We’re both older now, O’Rourke. And a little wiser.”
The saddle creaked as Culley settled himself into the seat. “Leave me be, Buck.”
“There’s trouble brewin’.” Buck’s voice had the ring of a warning.
Culley responded with a curt nod of agreement. “I can smell it in the wind.”
Buck grinned. “You and I are alike that way.”
“I’m giving you fair warning, Buck.” He stared him in the eye. “Stay away from the girl.”
“I saw her in town a week or so ago. She’s the spittin’ image of Maggie, isn’t she?”
“You hurt a hair on her head, and I swear I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”
Buck knew the difference between a threat and a promise. In O’Rourke’s case, the statement belonged in the latter category.
“Whatever’s coming, I don’t think she’ll be part of it.” Buck based that purely on a gut feeling.
“See that she isn’t.” He backed his horse deeper into the shadows behind him before reining it into a half-circle and slipping into the night.
Buck stared after him, his head cocked at a listening angle to catch the faint scuff of iron shoes on the hard ground. But there were few sounds to betray the exact route of O’Rourke’s retreat from the area. Smiling, Buck realized the night horse Culley rode was almost as soft-footed as its rider.
On the other side of the rise, a piece of heavy machinery revved its diesel motor a couple times, then roared forward, belching black smoke from its exhaust. Distracted by the sudden increase in the noise level, Buck glanced toward the work site, but he made no move toward it. He preferred the relative quiet of the high plains over the racket of the construction site, the smell of greening grass over diesel fumes, the feel of a fresh wind on his face over the grit of churned-up dust. In that he was like O’Rourke.
His gaze drifted over the ranchland, land he had been born and raised on. Despite all the years he had spent away from it, locked in a prison cell, this Calder land was still in his blood. Standing here, in the middle of it, Buck felt as if he had finally come home.
 
 
Under a high sun, Tara stood at the rear of the Range Rover and watched while two ranch hands unloaded the boxes from the back of the vehicle. When the last box was carried away, Ty closed the door.
“That should do it,” he said with finality and glanced her way. “Thanks for dropping off the catalogs.”
“No problem at all,” Tara assured him. “I know I could have easily had the printer ship them to you, but it didn’t make sense when I was going to be so close. This way you don’t have to worry about them getting lost en route.”
“I guess not.” He could feel her gaze on him, bright with interest, probing to gauge his mood.
“To be honest, I was half afraid you might not want me to ever set foot on the ranch again, despite all your talk about us being neighbors.”
“Really?” Ty knew she was angling for something, but he didn’t know what. It made him wary.
“Did your people let you know that I stopped the helicopters from flying so low on their way to the construction site?”
“As a matter of fact, I spoke to Jasper shortly before you arrived. He said everything was relatively quiet so far,” Ty admitted.
“And it will be from now on. You have my word on that,” Tara promised and turned slightly, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun’s glare as she glanced toward the old barn. “Have they finished the work on the barn yet?”
BOOK: Green Calder Grass
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