Lone Calder Star (Calder Saga 9)

“At least Jessy was present at the first ceremony,” Quint reminded her, a glint of teasing humor in his gray eyes.

“Now you sound like your grandfather,” Cat chided with affection, stepping aside as he came through the door into the entryway. “He still doesn’t see why Laura is having two weddings—one here and one in Britain. But the trip to England would have been much too hard on him at his age, and it simply wasn’t practical for Sebastian’s family and friends to fly over here.”

“I know.” Quint nodded. “Where’s Jessy? In the den?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, then placed a detaining hand on his arm. “I’m glad you decided not to make the trip. The idea of leaving your grandfather here by himself bothers me.”

“Don’t worry. There’ll be plenty of people keeping an eye on him besides me.”

“Of course there will.” She cast a glance in the direction of the den. “You’d better go see what Jessy wants.”

The Homestead’s large den was still considered the heart of the Triple C despite the construction of a separate ranch office several years back. It was on one of its walls that the old hand-drawn map of the ranch was hung, outlining its far-flung boundaries and identifying its various landmarks and watercourses on paper that had yellowed over time.

It was in the den as well where the impressive set of horns from a longhorn steer was mounted above the mantel of the massive stone fireplace. The same steer that had led the first cattle drive from Texas to the newly established Triple C Ranch in Montana. It was a room of history and heritage that never failed to make its imprint on Quint. This afternoon was no exception.

The fresh scent of pine emanated from the greenery that adorned the mantel. A cheery fire blazed in the old stone fireplace, casting its glow into the room and adding a welcome warmth for his grandfather’s old bones.

As usual, his grandfather, Chase Benteen Calder, sat behind the oversized desk, his once vigorous body now gray-haired and stoop-shouldered, with age lines creasing his rawboned face. The accumulation of years had left the mark on his body, but his mind remained as sharp as ever, and full of a lifetime of ranching knowledge on this northern plain.

Currently, his grandfather’s attention was centered on his daughter-in-law, Jessy Calder, who, under Chase’s able tutelage, had been running the Triple C for the last twenty-odd years since her husband’s death. Jessy sat on a corner of the desk, her boy-slim body angled toward Chase. She swiveled to face the doorway when she heard Quint’s footsteps.

“We were just talking about you, Quint.” In a single, fluid motion, Jessy straightened up from the desk.

“Mom said you wanted to see me.” Quint swept off his hat and walked the rest of the way into the room, dividing his curious glance between the two of them. But there was little that could be read from their expressions. “What’s up?”

“That’s what we want you to find out,” Jessy stated. “How soon can you be packed?”

Quint halted in surprise. “To go where?”

“Texas. We’ve been leaving messages at the Cee Bar for the last week, but none of our calls were returned. Today I asked the sheriff down there to check it out. I got off the phone with him just a few minutes ago. There was no one at the ranch—and no one had been there for at least a week, as near as his men could tell.”

Quint frowned. “I thought you hired somebody from the outside to manage the operation at the Cee Bar.”

Jessy released a half-irritated sigh and nodded. “Sam Evans, by name. We hired him about a year and a half ago.”

“Have you had any problems with him before now?” Quint asked, following his first thought.

“Not with Sam,” Jessy replied without any hesitation. “Although the last few months he has complained that all his hired help kept walking out on him after only a few days’ work.” Her shoulders moved in a vague shrug of confusion. “I don’t know. Maybe he got tired of doing all the work by himself and quit without bothering to notify us.”

There was something in the inflection of her voice that told Quint she didn’t totally believe that. “You think that would be out of character for him, don’t you?” he guessed.

Jessy’s innate sense of practicality surfaced. “It doesn’t matter what I think. The fact remains he’s gone—bag and baggage, according to the sheriff,” she added. “We need you to fly down there and take charge of the ranch until we can hire someone else.”

“If that’s what you want, I can be packed and ready in an hour,” Quint stated, then cocked his head at a puzzled and inquiring angle. “But why me? We all know there are any number of men here at the Triple C who have more ranching experience than I do.”

The question was directed at Jessy, but it was Chase who answered, “Back in June, Max Rutledge offered to buy the Cee Bar. I turned him down flat. Shortly after that, Evans started having trouble keeping help. It could be just a coincidence. But my gut tells me it isn’t.”

r /> Max Rutledge. Quint knew the name well. He had met Max’s son and heir, Boone Rutledge, during Boone’s very brief engagement to Quint’s cousin Laura, but he knew Max mostly by reputation. And it was a ruthless one.

The Texan was reportedly worth millions, thanks to his vast petroleum and banking investments. And numbered among his many holdings was the Rutledge family ranch, which just happened to border the Cee Bar.

Quint understood that it was a troubleshooter they wanted more than someone with ranching skills. In that he was uniquely qualified, considering that until a few months ago, he’d been an ATF agent for the Treasury Department. And it was that background in law enforcement they wanted.

“I’ll have the twin-engine fueled and waiting for you,” Jessy said and reached for the phone.

Winter pressed an early darkness over the Texas landscape. The cold front had passed on through the area, taking the clouds with it and leaving a bright glitter of stars in the evening sky.

The headlight beams on Quint’s rental car illuminated the two-lane highway in front of him. At this hour there was little traffic on it, and nearly all of it headed in the opposite direction. As he rounded a bend in the road, Quint noticed a cluster of lights in the near distance that looked to be a mixture of streetlamps and partially lit buildings. According to the directions Jessy had given him, he was to pass through the small town of Loury, Texas, before he reached the Cee Bar.