Calder Born, Calder Bred (Calder Saga 4)

“I couldn’t stay there.” The determined lilt in her voice warned him that she wouldn’t be ordered back.

His hard glance flicked past her to take in the sight of Jessy just coming up to him. Her dress had been replaced by jeans, boots, and a hat.

“Coffee?” She handed him a cup, steaming fragrantly with the hot brew. “I brought Cat with me,” she admitted.

“Since you’re here”—his attention reverted to his sister—“make yourself useful and get me a sandwich.” He waited until Cat had moved out of hearing before pinching more smoke from the short cigarette. “This is no place for her.”

“That’s a man’s opinion,” she returned evenly. “But he usually isn’t the one who’s sitting home and worrying. Cat was really afraid something was going to happen to you. You’re just about all she has left. Besides, I figured it would be just as hard for her to sleep alone in that house as it would be in the back end of one of these trucks.”

“Maybe.” Ty grudgingly conceded the point, his attention running again to the machinery parked on the roadside. “Were there any calls or messages from Silverton, the attorney?”

“No. Someone at headquarters would have contacted you by radio if there were.” Jessy understood that patience was something Ty had learned, but it didn’t always ride well with him. Now it was coiling in him.

“Silverton’s trying to get some sort of temporary injunction or restraining order barring Dyson from the land. The suit’s been refiled, contesting the land title.” He explained the things that were being worked on, things out of his hands.

“What do you think Dyson’s going to do next?”

“I don’t know.” The cigarette was smoked down to his fingers. Ty pinched out the fire and ground the butt under his boot. “This might be a diversion to keep us occupied here while he slips in somewhere else.” With a turn of his head, he measured her with a glance. “What are you doing here, Jessy?”

The smooth composure of her strong features was beyond a man’s reading. So calm and resolute, accepting her fate either good or bad; but still, that was not all he saw in her. There were other things he couldn’t name, yet he sensed them, like feeling the vague brush of glory pass close to him after searching long years for it.

“I thought someone should keep an eye on Cat,” she said, removing that concern from him.

“Right.” An evening star twinkled in the purpling night sky. It reminded him of Tara. She should be the one looking after his sister. Jessy noticed the change in his expression, the faraway look of a man troubled by his dreams. Guiltily, she moved away.

As darkness settled over the land, the tension diminished. Voices were pitched softer. Nightwatches were assigned and bedrolls spread out in and around the pickups. It was nearing midnight and Jessy was cocooned in a blanket, propped in the corner of a truck’s rear bed. From her vantage point, she could make out Cathleen’s dark shape, sleeping in Repp Taylor’s arms. But Ty had not rested, and she doubted that he’d try to before morning.

Around midmorning the next day, a horse and rider cantered in from the north to approach the ranch pickups clustered around the gate. Ty walked to the edge of the outer vehicles before ascertaining the rider was Culley O’Rourke and not one of his men.

“Trouble?” Culley stepped out of the saddle, looking around.

“Some.” Ty nodded shortly, his gaze running over the man. “Cat mentioned you hadn’t been feeling well.” He looked healthy, although he seemed to move with care.

O’Rourke betrayed himself with a startled look for an instant, then said, “I’m okay. This business with Dyson coming to a head?”

“It looks that way.” There was nothing to be gained by discussing the situation with his uncle. He angled away from the man to head back where he could keep watch on the gate. “Help yourself to some coffee.”

“I will.” O’Rourke hooked a stirrup on the saddle horn and tugged to loosen the cinch a notch. He was relieved when he noticed Cathleen. “So this is where you got to? I been lookin’ all over for you,” he declared gruffly.

“Uncle Culley”—her tone was earnest and insistent—“we’ve got to tell Ty. He’s got to know what we suspect. Both of us together, we’ll be able to convince him.”

“It’s no use, I been tellin’ you that,” he reminded her.

“But there’s going to be trouble here. There’s been some shooting already. If Dyson and his partner really tried to kill my father, what’s stopping them from trying to get rid of Ty? We have to warn him, just in case.”

The shrill wail of a siren wobbled through the air, breaking the quiet that had held the morning. As it approached, growing louder, there was a stirring of movement toward the east gate. Cat grabbed her uncle’s hand and pulled him along with her.

A car bearing the sheriff’s insignia turned off the highway onto the lane, stopping short of the cattle guard. Ty leaned a shoulder against the tall gatepost that marked the entrance and waited while Blackmore hefted his barrel-chested body out of the car, followed by two uniformed deputies. He hitched his pants up by the waistband, adjusting his holstered gun on his hip, then strolled to the cattle guard with a faint swagger.

“Times have changed, Calder,” Blackmore declared with a satisfied look. “You can’t have things your way

anymore.”

“Is that a fact?” Ty didn’t change his slouched position as he struck a match head on the rough post and lit a cigarette.

“You’ve heard of an easement, haven’t you? I’ve got a piece of paper here, all recorded and legal, which says the government has an easement to that property they own west of here.” He produced the stamped and sealed document for Ty’s inspection. “It gives them and their assigns access across your ranch.”

A grimness edged his mouth as Ty unfolded the recorded document. He hadn’t thought Dyson would be able to obtain one so soon. Somewhere along the line, he had shortcut the system and eliminated a lot of red tape.