Green Calder Grass (Calder Saga 6)

“Oh, no you don’t, Culley O’Rourke. You aren’t leaving yet,” Tara admonished with uncharacteristic friendliness toward the man. “If I know you, you haven’t had a thing to eat. And here we are with more food than we know what to do with. You come over here and sit down at the table. Cat and I will fix you something to eat.”

“No need for that.” Even as he shook his head in a show of indifference, his glance ran to the platter of sandwiches.

Mildly annoyed that the invitation should have come from Tara, Cat stepped in to take over. “There most certainly is a need. It will make up for the supper I didn’t get around to bringing you.” She took him by the arm and led him to the table while directing a pointed glance over her shoulder at Tara. “You better take that coffee into the living room. I know Stumpy definitely wanted another cup.”

Unable to object, Tara left the kitchen with the insulated coffee carafe in hand. Culley took a seat at the table while Cat brought him a plate and some silverware then set about retrieving various cold salads from the refrigerator.

“You don’t like her much anymore, do you?” Culley observed, quick to pick up on Cat’s mood.

She didn’t have to ask whom he meant. “I am still mad at her for buying that land. I guess I will always hold that against her no matter what.”

“She’s got Haskell working for her.” The remark had an offhand ring to it, like the idle voicing of a thought.

“I know. Dad hates that. Coffee to drink?”

“That’s fine.”

Cat paused in the act of filling a cup for him to frown curiously in his direction. “Why did you bring up Buck Haskell’s name?”

“No reason. I just remembered it, that’s all.” After sitting all this time without making a move toward the food before him, Culley scooped some potato salad onto his plate and checked the contents of the other bowls.

“I know you better than that, Uncle Culley.” Cat brought his cup to the table and set it on the table next to him. “You never say anything for no reason.”

Culley att

empted to shrug off the question. “It just seems odd that she’d want a jailbird workin’ for her.”

Cat had never thought about it in quite that way before. But she never had a chance to explore the possibilities as Quint ran into the kitchen, trailed by Logan.

“Hi, Mom. Hi, Uncle Culley. Got the chores done.” Quint lost interest in both of them the instant he noticed the food on the table. “Can I have something to eat, Mom? I’m hungry.”

“Of course. Grab a chair,” she said, ruffling his coal-black hair.

“Me, too, Mom?” Logan mimicked their son, his gray eyes aglow with that special light he reserved just for her.

“You, too.” Smiling, Cat tipped her head up to receive the light but warm kiss he dropped on her lips.

Within minutes both father and son were heaping food on their plates while Cat filled their drink orders, coffee for Logan and milk for Quint. Beyond a nod of acknowledgment, Logan didn’t attempt to engage Culley in conversation. Culley wasn’t the kind of man given to talking, although he seemed to have grown comfortable with both Logan and Quint.

After Quint had devoured half his sandwich, the edge was off his hunger. He turned his attention to the day’s events. “Boy, Uncle Ty really smashed up his truck, didn’t he?”

“You saw it?” Cat’s glance ran from Quint to Logan.

Logan nodded in confirmation. “We drove by it on the way here.”

“Did you see anything that didn’t strike you right?” Culley pinned Logan with a close-watching gaze.

The question stirred Logan’s professional instincts. “Nothing other than the fact that it’s unusual to blow two tires on the same side. Why?” Culley had a reason for asking, and Logan wanted to know it.

“Just curious.” Culley forked another bite of potato salad into his mouth. “I noticed the pickup’s gun rack was empty. Guess one of the guys on the pump truck took the rifle out, though I don’t remember seeing it.”

“Could be,” Logan agreed, unable to recall any mention of Culley returning to the accident site. Which likely meant the old man had watched from a distance. It was the sort of thing he was known for doing, observing without becoming involved.

“Did Ty mention anything about seein’ coyotes?” Culley continued to concentrate his attention on the food on his plate.

“Not to me.” Like Culley, Logan pretended to take no great interest in this discussion. He wasn’t sure where it was leading, but he strongly suspected it would end up being his business.

For several seconds, Culley held his silence then dropped his little bomb. “I was just wonderin’ about the shots I heard.”