Shifting Calder Wind (Calder Saga 7)

“It’s good to be here, Mrs. Calder. I had the pleasure of meeting your late father-in-law a few years back. Such a tragic loss that was,” he added in a brief aside. “I always hoped I would have an occasion to visit your famed ranch. Then Monte was good enough to provide me with one.”

“I do believe the truth is out,” Monte declared with light amusement. “He made the loan so he would have an excuse to visit the Triple C at the bank’s expense. Would you like to take a look at the cattle your money bought, Adam?” With a grand sweep of his arm, he gestured to the feedlot.

“Since I’m expected to confirm we do have collateral on the hoof, that would be a good idea.” Weatherford spoke the literal truth but in a jesting manner that made light of it. “And it’s always best to get business out of the way first.”

“My thought exactly,” Monte agreed.

The two men moved to the fence and stepped onto the lower rail for a better view of the animals in the lot. Dressed as they were—the banker in cowboy duds and Monte in khaki-colored jodhpurs, a white polo shirt, and an Aussie hat straight out of the Outback—the two men looked as out of place as a pair of pelicans in the desert. Jessy joined them.

“Starting them a bit young, aren’t you, Mrs. Calder?” Smiling, the banker nodded in the direction of the small boy proudly reining the horse toward them with no assistance from the adult rider seated behind him.

“You can never start them too young, Mr. Weatherford.” Her smile took nothing away from the sincerity of her words.

“That’s Trey, isn’t it?” Monte said.

“Yes. He insisted on coming with me this morning.” And Jessy had spent too little time with the children lately to refuse him.

“Is that your son?” the banker asked with more than passing interest.

“It is indeed,” Monte answered for her and climbed to the top of the fence to greet the boy. “Hello there, young Trey.”

“Hi.” Trey waved back.

Laredo took over the reins and maneuvered the horse close to the fence where the three waited. “Sorry, buddy. This is where you get off and I go back to work.”

“I have him.” Monte lifted Trey off the saddle and onto the fence as the first steer scrambled out of the next trailer. “Adam, I would like you to meet Master Chase Benteen Calder the Third, better known as Trey. Trey, this is Mr. Weatherford from Denver.”

“How’d ya do.” Unprompted, Trey stuck out his hand.

“How do you do, Trey.” Hiding a smile, the banker gravely shook hands with him. “I see you had a good, close look at the cattle. What do you think of them?”

“They ain’t the ropin’ kind,” Trey replied. “’Redo says they’re the stand-around-and-get-fat kind.”

Monte threw back his head, releasing a rich laugh. “Well, he is absolutely correct.”

“I know.” Trey turned to Jessy, once again all bright-eyed with excitement. “Did you see me, Mom?”

“I certainly did.”

“I did good, huh?” He worked his way down the fence to her.

“Very good.”

He heaved a big sigh. “Ridin’ is real thirsty work, Mom.”

“Why don’t you go get yourself a drink,” Jessy suggested. “There’s a jug of water in the truck.”

“Okay.” Trey wasted little time scrambling off the fence and racing for the pickup.

From his watching post by the trailers, Culley observed the Calder kid’s dash to the ranch pickup, but he was more interested in how cozy the boy had been with that Laredo character. Ever since Jessy mentioned she was going to let the Englishman run fat cattle in the lot and planned to hire the cowboy to help tend them, Culley had been making a regular swing past the feedlot. Two days ago he had spotted a cowboy making repairs to the fencing. This morning he had heard the rumble of the arriving cattle trucks long before they came into view.

Until he saw them with his own eyes, Culley had been having a hard time believing Jessy intended to let somebody else’s cattle on the place. It made no more sense to him than fixing up that old line shack had. And it made him wonder if that cowboy and his ma had something on her. It seemed possible when Culley remembered how rigidly furious Jessy had looked when she talked to the cowboy after the funeral. Somehow or other the cowboy had persuaded her to meet him the next morning at the old cemetery. Culley was willing to bet that it was after that meeting that Jessy decided to stash the pair at the old line shack.

He shifted his attention to the Englishman. Maybe it was just coincidence that shortly after the cowboy showed up, the Englishman began hauling cattle into the Triple C. Or maybe the cowboy and the Englishman were in cahoots. Whatever the case, something about this whole business smelled funny to Culley.

The brown horse snorted and turned a wary eye on the semi that pulled into the unloading area with another batch of cattle. Swinging his leg back over the saddle, Culley tucked his foot in the stirrup and gathered up the reins to ride over to get a closer look at them.

Just like the previous loads, the cattle were a mixed lot, mostly young and mostly all crossbreds. And, same as all the others, they were slick, a cowboy term for an animal without a brand, sporting only ear tags.