This Calder Sky (Calder Saga 3)

“Boss!” One of the hands called to him from the sun-brightened doorway, and Webb turned. “O’Rourke’s outside here, askin’ to see you.”

For a split-second, Webb held himself motionless. These last four days he’d been expecting something without being sure what it would be. Now it had come. He straightened from the counter, accumulating his thoughts and formulating his contingency plans.

“Tell him I’ll be right out.” He gave the message to the cowboy and glanced at Bill. On the surface, he retained a calm and casual expression. “Was there anything else we needed to go over?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Bill Vernon shook his head and wheeled his chair at a r

ight angle, taking the purchase order Webb had signed.

With a curt nod, Webb took his leave. “Take care.” He turned and walked out the commissary door into the bright sunlight.

After four days of ranting and raving, mostly to himself, and being goaded by Maggie’s taunting insistence that he would do nothing more than talk, Angus O’Rourke had worked himself into a fever pitch of hatred that had finally brought him face to face with Webb Calder. He had stayed outside the ranch store deliberately to make Webb Calder come to him, as if this small thing would give him a psychological edge.

If it did, it was taken away when Webb stopped before him, tall and barrel-chested, forcing Angus, who was half a foot shorter, to tip his head back in order to look into Webb’s face. Angus detested people looking “down” at him, especially Webb Calder. His mouth curved in smug contempt at the way this mighty man was going to squirm before he was through with him.

“Hello, O’Rourke. You wanted to see me?”

Angus lifted his chin a belligerent inch higher. “Yeah, I want to talk to you.”

With a brief nod of willingness to listen, Webb Calder said, “I was just on my way to the house. Why don’t we talk there?”

Angus had just taken a deep breath to let fly with his accusations. The offer of hospitality took the wind out of his sails. The rare times that he’d been at the Triple C headquarters, he’d never been invited to the house. It was a grand-looking structure. Just for a minute, he was uncomfortable at the thought of being inside. Then he reassured himself with the knowledge that he was finally being treated as an equal, something he felt he justly deserved.

It was impossible to talk while crossing the yard. The man’s long strides forced Angus to walk faster than he usually did. He was puffing slightly when they reached the house and was irritated because Calder didn’t appear to be out of breath.

Entering the house, Angus couldn’t keep from staring at the huge living room with all its fine, comfortable furnishings—strong, solid furniture built to last. It was a man’s house, possessing none of the dainty touches of a woman. His own home seemed a shack in comparison. His dream of living in a place like this seemed further away now that Angus realized how far he had to go. It filled him with a sense of wild desperation.

Calder was opening wide a set of double doors to his left, and Angus realized their discussion was not going to take place in the spacious living room before him. He turned to follow Webb into the library. There was a cavernous fireplace with the wide, sweeping horns of a longhorn steer mounted above the mantelpiece, and furniture covered with genuine leather. Bookshelves held bound volumes of works ranging from the masters to animal husbandry. Behind a huge desk, a framed map hung on the wall, yellowed with age and outlining the boundaries of the Triple C. Angus stared at it as Calder walked behind the desk to sit in the stuffed armchair.

“It’s the first map of the ranch,” Calder explained, noting Angus’ interest in it. “Almost a century old now.”

Angus was choked again by the feeling that it was wrong for one person to own so much. It festered inside him, an infected wound that poisoned him. The map, the house, the man—all made him feel small.

“What was it you wanted to speak to me about, Angus?” Calder inquired, so calmly, so authoritatively.

“My daughter, Maggie. Your son forced himself on her. He found her swimming in the river and took advantage of her.” He rushed his words, the heat building in his voice. “It’s a fact. She told me so herself, so there’s no use in you denying it.”

“I wouldn’t presume to call your daughter a liar,” Calder replied smoothly. “My son is a healthy young male, and your Maggie is just coming into womanhood. I wouldn’t deny it’s conceivable that there might have been a liaison between the two of them.”

He’d expected an argument, a flat denial that a Calder would do such a thing. His anger was temporarily without direction until his mind played back Webb’s statement in which nothing was admitted and no blame assumed.

“Your son isn’t going to get away with ruining my little girl. I’m here to see to that,” he stated. “It doesn’t matter how you want to twist it. What he did amounts to statutory rape. She’s fifteen, under age. He can go to prison for that.”

There was the briefest pause, during which Webb Calder regarded him steadily. “I’m sure you have considered that if you press charges, your daughter would have to appear in court. Her testimony would be public record. It’s unfortunate, but only too true, that in cases where rape is charged, it’s the girl who suffers the loss of her reputation. No father wants to see his daughter publicly shamed.”

The shame would touch all of them. A trial would have this whole part of the state talking. Wherever any of them went, people would whisper behind their backs and point. It was something that Angus had thought about over and over again. His face became mottled with frustration because Calder knew they would suffer more than he and his son.

“Your son took my little girl and used her for his own pleasure. I’m not letting him get away with it,” Angus insisted in a tight voice. “I demand that he do the right thing by her.”

An eyebrow shot up in challenging surprise, a studied action that seemed to imply Angus wasn’t too bright. “I hope you aren’t suggesting marriage, Angus, because that would be a bigger mistake than the one they made. Your daughter is much too young to be any man’s bride, and my son isn’t ready to settle down in married life. I know you are trying to ensure that your daughter doesn’t suffer any loss of respect, but for parents to force their children to marry because of a single indiscretion would be wrong. She would be unhappy with my son, and I know that’s something that as her father you want to avoid.”

Angus hated Webb for being so damned levelheaded and practical. He shifted in his chair, aware that he was being made to look like a fool and helpless to know how to change it. He clung to the one thought that burned steadily within him.

“He isn’t going to get by with what he did. He’s got to pay for it,” Angus repeated in steadfast determination.

“If I had a daughter”—Webb Calder leaned forward in his chair and casually rested his arms on the desk to study him—“and if I believed something of this nature had happened to her, I’m sure I would be feeling the same sense of outrage that you are. I would insist on some form of retribution, too. It wouldn’t be unreasonable to expect compensation—a settlement for damages, if you will.”

“Are you saying that you want to buy me off?” Angus challenged with narrowed eyes, his pride stung by the offer. “Do you think money can erase my daughter’s memory of what happened out there by the river?”