Stands a Calder Man (Calder Saga 2)

When his mother’s glance faltered under his silent inspection and she moved out of the doorway to admit him, Webb stepped into the room. Obviously he’d been the subject of disagreement between them. He didn’t want to be the cause of disharmony for his parents. He just wanted to live life his way, on his terms.

“Yes, we were,” his mother agreed with commendable aplomb. “I was just threatening to drag you out of whatever saloon or bawdy house you were in so we could all have dinner together tonight. Now that you’re here, your father can be spared that embarrassment.”

“I came by”—Webb paused to direct his explanation to his father—“to let you know that all the wires have been sent. The replies will be coming to you here.”

“Wires?” Lorna sent a questioning look at Benteen, mildly curious because it seemed a less quarrelsome topic, and because he hadn’t mentioned telegraphing anyone. “What’s this all about?”

“Nothing that needs to concern you.”

“Someday I hope you’ll explain to me why you always insist something is none of my business when other people are around, and then tell me about it later when we are alone,” she lightly taunted him. “Men seem to think the only place they can talk to their wives is in the bedroom. But it isn’t true, Webb,” she advised her son.

The corners of his mouth deepened with a hidden smile at his mother’s daring. Webb noticed his father was wavering between irritation and amusement.

“I’ll try to remember,” Webb murmured dryly.

“I thought I married a quiet, tractable woman.” Benteen shook his head in affectionate exasperation. “I hope you have better luck, son.”

“That reminds me,” Lorna inserted. “We’ll meet you at six this evening in the dining room.” She ran a mother’s critical eye over his dusty, smelly clothes and beard-roughened face. “That will give you time to bathe and change clothes. Ruth came to town with me to do some shopping, so she’ll be joining us for dinner, too.”

The last bit of information left Webb feeling a little unsettled without knowing why. He liked Ruth. She was practically family—a younger sister.

Yet his mother had been quite insistent about him cleaning up and changing clothes. Surely a man didn’t have to make a special point about that for a girl who was like a sister. Unless his mother didn’t want him to regard Ruth as a sister. A glint of amusement appeared in his eyes at her subtle maneuvering.

“It was good of you to bring her to town, Mother,” he commented. “I know it hasn’t been easy for her since Mary passed away. She needed to get out and away from the house.”

“That’s what I thought,” his mother agreed with a pleased smile.

“I’d better get cleaned up,” Webb started to turn toward the door to leave.

“Oh, Webb—” She called him back, faltering for a second. “Be sure to notice the dress she’s wearing tonight. It’s a new one.”

“I will.” He was smiling as he left the suite. A compliment was expected to be issued about the new gown. It didn’t seem to matter how old he got; his mother still felt obligated to remind him about his manners and gentlemanly behavior. Or was it another attempt to arouse a more personal interest in the woman wearing the new dress?

Lorna closed the door and leaned against it, chewing thoughtfully on the inside of her lower lip. When she became aware of Benteen watching her, she straightened. “While you’re washing up, I think I’ll help Ruth fix her hair.”

“Matchmaking is like leading a horse to water. You can’t make him drink,” Benteen cautioned.

“No, but maybe he’ll remember where the water is and find it again himself when he’s thirsty,” Lorna reasoned

. She wasn’t sure if it was the fading afternoon light or whether she simply hadn’t looked at him so closely before, but Benteen suddenly looked tired to her. “Maybe you should lie down and rest a bit before dinner.”

“I’m fine.” An impatient frown deepened the lines already carved in his face. He started once again for the bedroom and stopped. “The last address we had on Bull Giles after he left Denver—was it the Black Dove in Washington?”

“Yes.” It was her turn to frown.

“That’s what I thought.” He nodded absently.

“Did you have Webb send a wire to him?” She had already guessed the answer was affirmative. “Why?”

“He may have dropped out of the political scene, but he’s bound to have some connections yet. There’s a bill coming before Congress that has got to be stopped,” Benteen explained vaguely. “It would throw this whole state open to homesteaders and plows. I don’t want to go into it just now, not until I find out the particulars.”

“That’s what’s been troubling you, isn’t it?”

“Partly.” He rubbed a hand along the side of his neck. “And I’m tired. Tired of struggling to keep what we’ve got. It wouldn’t be so bad if my son was fighting with me. It’s battling alone—”

“You’re not alone.” She glided quickly across the space that separated them and curved her hands around his forearm, tipping her head back to look at him.

“No, I’m not alone,” Benteen agreed, but there was a sad light in his brown eyes. “I don’t really mind the fight. But I’m not getting any younger. What happens when I’m gone, Lorna? I worry about you and how you’ll manage on your own. I can’t depend on Webb to look out for you anymore.”