Shifting Calder Wind (Calder Saga 7)

As Culley approached the semi’s tractor, the driver climbed down from the cab. He shot a look at Culley. “How long a wait am I gonna have before I can unload?”

“Not long.” Culley fastened his black eyes on the man. “Markham buy all these cattle?”

“Got me.” The driver shrugged his ignorance. “The manifest says they belong to the High Plains Corporation. That’s all I know.”

The name wasn’t a familiar one. Making no comment, Culley simply nodded and rode closer to the chute area where there was a bit of commotion going on.

The culprit was a big black calf that had decided it preferred the trailer over the feedlot. Its attempt to reverse directions had jammed up the ones behind it, much to the exasperation of the cursing cowboys attempting to prod the animal in the opposite direction. Personally Culley admired the animal for bucking the flow. In the end, the young steer lost its battle and trotted into the feedlot with the rest.

Even though the outcome was a foregone conclusion, Culley felt oddly saddened by it. He reined his horse away from the feedlot and threw a last glance, catching a glimpse of Jessy and the Englishman, but not the other man.

“Something’s not right,” he murmured to his horse. The trouble was he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was.

Ordinarily he wouldn’t have given a damn about what Jessy did or why. But he couldn’t help wondering what Cat knew about this. With Calder in his grave, the Triple C now belonged to her as much, if not more, than it did to Jessy.

Monte leaned both arms on the top rail and surveyed the livestock in the yard with something of a proprietary air, then glanced at the banker standing some distance from them verifying the health certificates on the delivered cattle. He switched his attention to Jessy, flashing her an appreciative smile.

“It was very kind of you to invite Weatherford to lunch before he flies back to Denver. Thank you.”

Jessy shrugged off his thanks. “It would have been rude to let him leave on an empty stomach. That isn’t the way we do things on the Triple C.”

“And the ranch is, without question, famous for its hospitality,” Monte agreed and once again faced the feedlot. “The man on the chestnut, is he new? I don’t recall seeing him before.”

Her pulse skittered, making it obvious to Jessy that she would never get comfortable with this lying business. “You mean Laredo,” she said with forced evenness. “He’s going to be working here at the lot. You probably should meet him.”

When she issued a shrill, two-fingered whistle, heads turned in her direction, but she motioned to Laredo, summoning him to the fence. Only after he had turned his horse toward her did Jessy notice the way Monte stared at her in a marveling fashion.

“Astonishing,” he declared. “One day you must teach me how to whistle like that.”

“It isn’t all that difficult.” She shrugged off his comment, a little surprised that he would be impressed by something so insignificant.

Trey raced back to her side and scrambled to the top rail in time to greet Laredo when he rode up. “Hi, ’Redo. Can I ride your horse again?”

“Sorry, not this time,” Laredo replied. Although disappointed, Trey accepted his answer without protest. “What did you need?” he asked Jessy, a boyish openness to his expression.

“Laredo Smith, Monte Markham.” Jessy made the introduction without ceremony. “I thought the two of you should meet since the feedlot is your assignment,” she explained to Laredo.

“I guess that makes you the owner of this bunch.” Laredo flashed Monte a totally artless smile.

“Tec

hnically speaking, I only represent the owners,” Monte corrected.

“Brokered the deal for ’em, did ya?” Laredo observed and cast an assessing glance over the stock in the lot. He pushed the brim of his hat off his forehead, and said, “You’ll be turning a quick profit on this lot. They’re in good shape. I reckon they’ll fatten up easy.”

“There will be a profit as long as grain prices don’t rise.” But Monte showed no concern that they would. “Your name is Laredo. I expect you are from Texas?”

“Nope. I was born in New Mexico. Laredo is a handle I got stuck with a long time ago. I always figured it brightened up the Smith end of my name. It beats being called Smitty like my dad was, that’s for sure.” He paused a beat, then asked, “You ever been to Texas?”

“Texas, Arizona, Colorado, Wyoming—I have even been to your state of New Mexico to sample a bit of Santa Fe. Then I came to Montana and knew this big land under a big sky was the place for me.”

“Yup, it’s the kind of place that can give a man big ideas.” There was nothing in Laredo’s voice to suggest his observation was any more than an idle comment.

“I expect the first Calder would agree with you,” Monte replied.

“I’ll bet he would.” Laredo grinned. “I guess I’d better get back to my work.” He lifted his hat and set it back square on his head before gathering up the reins. “If you got any questions about these fellas, just look me up, Mr. Markham.”

“Thank you, I will,” Monte replied and watched him ride away. “Talkative chap, isn’t he?” he remarked to Jessy.