“What does Maggie think of her?”
There was a brief shrug. “Maggie is enjoying her company. All that woman talk about fashions and dinner parties and foreign places is something she’s missed. Even the ranch women around here are more apt to talk about Junior’s calf that he’s showing or the baby’s croup. Not very sophisticated topics.” There was a cynical curve to his mouth. “Maggie and Tkra get along very well.”
“That’s good. Maggie will be able to help Tara adjust to her new life—if she and Ty get married.” Sally chose to see the positive aspect.
“Let’s hope so.”
It was late afternoon when Chase arrived back at The Homestead. He went straight to the study and picked up the receiver of the desk phone, dialing a number.
“Hello, Potter. Chase Calder.”
“H’lo, Chase,” came the laconic reply. “What can I do for you?”
“I have a license number I want you to check out for me.” He gave it to him.
“Texas plates? It might take me some time,” the local sheriff warned in a slow voice. “What’s the problem? You aren’t havin’ trouble with rustlers again?”
“No. There’s a camping trailer parked outside of Sally’s. I want to know who owns it, where he works, and everything there is to know about his background.” He paused, then added, “And have your men make some extra patrols past her place at night after it closes. Call me as soon as you get a rundown on that license number.”
“Will do. By the way ... I won’t be runnin’ for election again. I’m gonna get me a fly rod and head for some of them trout streams. I’ve got a good boy name of Dobbins all lined up for the job. It’d be good if he had your support.”
“I’ll remember that, Potter.” He hung up the phone and turned around.
Maggie was standing in the doorway. “Were you talking to the sheriff?”
“Yes. There was something I needed him to check on.” His hesitation was slight, barely perceptible, coming from an unwillingness to communicate the nature of his inquiry.
“What is it? Is there trouble?” Maggie wasn’t satisfied with half an answer, nor with the bits and pieces of the phone conversation she’d overheard.
“No.” Smoothly he moved toward her. “I want to make sure there won’t be.”
He was deliberately being evasive, and she could only think of one reason why he’d do that. “Tell me, Chase,” she insisted, “does it have anything to do with Culley? Has he done something?”
“This has nothing to do with Culley,” he assured her. “There’s some strangers in town. They parked a trailer next to Sally’s and are using it as a kind of base of operations. The sheriff’s going to find out who they are and what they’re doing here. That’s all.”
Sally’s. There was a leadenness in her heart as she searched his craggy face. “When did you find this out?”
“I stopped by there this afternoon. When she told me about the men, I decided to have them checked out.” Chase eyed Maggie with a trace of irritation. “She does live alone above the caf6.” There was a shortness in his voice.
“I’m sure Sally Brogan can take care of herself. She doesn’t need you to protect her.” Maggie was stiff with jealousy. A man protected what he regarded as his own. A couple of times Maggie had wondered whether the ashes of his old affair with Sally had been stirred. “Excuse me. I have to check on dinner.” She made a retreat before she said something she might regret.
A night breeze fluttered the curtains at the bedroom window, then caught the lazy trail of smoke from Ty’s cigarette and sucked it toward the screened opening. The hoot of an owl night-hunting on the riverbanks drifted into the darkened room, lighted only by the silvery shine of a moon on the wane. The midnight hour held the night in stillness.
Unable to sleep, Ty sat in bed. Pillows stacked behind his shoulders and back propped him against the headboard. His thoughts drifted; he was troubled. There had been a subtle change in his attitude toward Tara these last three weeks. Her beauty still captivated him; he still wanted her. But something was missing. Sometimes he had the feeling he was seeing her more clearly now, but he didn’t know what that meant.
The faint scrape of a doorknob turning briefly aroused him; then he relaxed. It was probably Cat, stealing into his room to talk. She was something of a night creature, restlessly prowling or reading till all hours. Being ten years old was rough, he remembered, too old for childish games and too young for adult entertainment.
The door was pushed silently open. A shadow was thrown into the room with the rectangular patch of light from the upstairs hallway. Ty came to full alertness when a woman’s figure slipped into the room, clad in a shimmering ivory satin robe. Ty crushed the half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray as he sat bolt upright. The bedcovers fell down around his hips, revealing his bare chest.
“Tara, what the hell are you doing here?” His voice was half-angry and half-stunned.
“I couldn’t sleep.” She glided toward the bed, the shimmering fabric rippling with her every movement, outlining her breasts and hips. “You couldn’t sleep either, could you?” The knowing sound in her voice ripened his awareness of her.
“You shouldn’t be here at this hour.” But he didn’t move as he watched her hands gracefully lift the skirt of her robe to set a knee on the bed.
The mattress dipped slightly under the weight centered on the point of her knee. The robe parted with a faint rustle, giving him a provocative glimpse of bare thigh; then the glistening ivory fabric came together again. Curling her body, she sat sideways on the bed and leaned an arm toward him.
“I kept thinking about us and I just had to see you,” Tara murmured.