Lone Calder Star (Calder Saga 9)

“Good.” After a few more questions, Jessy drew their conversation to a close. “Keep me posted on what’s happening, especially if you have any further trouble. I won’t tell you to be careful. I know you always are.”

“Always.” Quint smiled. “Tell Mom I’ll talk to her tonight.”

“I’ll tell her,” Jessy promised.

Lines of thought creased her forehead as Jessy hung up the phone. The sound of the receiver rocking into its cradle roused the aged Chase Calder from his idle daydreams. More and more these days his mind had a tendency to wander, finding little to hold its attention for any length of time.

Yanked unexpectedly back into the present, Chase struggled to ascertain what that was. Flames leaped and crackled over the logs stacked in the den’s massive stone fireplace. Chase was vaguely conscious of the warmth radiating from it and of the weight of the blanket robe that covered his legs.

Almost belatedly he focused on the tall, slender woman behind the desk, but he was quick to detect the slightly troubled look in her expression. He had an instant recall that she had picked up the phone to call Quint in Texas.

“What’s wrong?” Chase couldn’t remember hearing Jessy talking to anyone. “Wasn’t Quint there?”

“I talked to him,” Jessy confirmed, the small lines vanishing from her forehead, her expression again showing the calm, steady composure that served her so well. “He has everything under control there.”

Chase leaned forward in the wing-backed chair. “You told him about the hay, didn’t you?”

Jessy gave him a bewildered look. “The hay? He said it wasn’t scheduled to arrive until Wednesday. Was I supposed to tell him something about that?”

Chase sank back in his chair, not at all certain that he had told Jessy of his suspicions. “I can’t see Rutledge letting him have it. He’ll try something. He’ll have to. Quint needs to know that.”

“He said he was going to call Cat tonight. I’ll let her know that I need to talk to him—and mention it then.”

Yet Chase’s concern only reminded Jessy of the assault on Quint by three men. When she had sent Quint to Texas, she had strongly suspected, like Chase, that the Cee Bar’s problems were caused by an outside source. But Jessy had never really believed she was putting Quint in any physical danger. Now she couldn’t ignore the possibility.

“Chase, is it really important that we keep the Cee Bar?” Ultimately such a decision was Jessy’s to make, but the habit of seeking her father-in-law’s counsel was too deeply ingrained for her not to ask the question of him. “It’s always been more of a financial liability than an asset to the Triple C.”

She expected him to come back with his usual answer—that Calder land was never for sale. This time Chase didn’t speak off the top of his head, but gave her question considerably more thought before offering a reply.

“The day may come when selling it is the right move. But it will never be right if someone is trying to force that sale. You’d be showing weakness. Others will see it.” His gaze was hard with warning. “When they do, you could find yourself in a fight for the Triple C.”

Jessy recalled the number of times something similar had happened during Chase’s life. She wanted to believe those days were gone, but she realized that the old-time range wars weren’t all that different from the hostile takeovers of modern day. Only the tactics had changed.

After wrapping up a report on the current trend in the grain market, the radio announcer moved on to opening livestock prices. Dallas listened with only half an ear and smothered another yawn, fighting the fatigue that came from burning the midnight oil too long the night before. She reached fo

r her coffee cup only to find it nearly empty.

With a frustrated sigh, she rolled her chair back from the desk and carried her cup over to the coffeepot that sat atop the table along a side wall, accessible to any customers of the feed store. She refilled her cup with the strong brew and glanced idly at her boss.

Holly Sykes stood in front of the big window facing the highway. He’d been standing there when she arrived for work at eight o’clock, and had hardly budged from the spot since. Dallas had the impression he was watching for something or someone, but she was too tired to summon up any curiosity as to who or what that might be.

As she started back to her desk, she barely registered the familiar rumble of a semi. Holly Sykes took a quick step closer to the window, his sudden movement attracting her attention. She glanced out the window to identify the cause of his sudden interest and saw a semi hauling a flatbed trailer loaded with round hay bales.

The minute it passed, Holly abruptly pivoted away from the window and made a beeline for his desk. Dallas immediately guessed that the hay was destined for the Cee Bar. He picked up his phone and rapidly punched a set of numbers.

“It’s Sykes. It just went by.” That was the extent of his conversation.

There wasn’t any doubt in her mind that he’d called the Slash R Ranch. The briefness of it was similar to the curt warning Holly had delivered when she showed up for work Monday morning.

“Stay away from that guy at the Cee Bar,” he’d said. “You won’t be told twice.”

Dallas had a heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach when she thought of Quint. The odds were clearly stacked against him. She was suddenly angry and depressed, both at the same time.

Boone flipped the cell phone shut and sent a sidelong glance at the uniformed deputy behind the wheel of the patrol car. There was a dark glitter in his eyes that Deputy Joe Ed Krause found difficult to meet. And the smile that quirked Boone’s mouth didn’t make him feel any more comfortable.

“The truck just rolled into town,” Boone told him. “You know what you’re supposed to do.”

Joe Ed bobbed his head in a quick nod and repeated the instructions, “I wait until after he’s delivered the hay, let him get a mile or so down the road, then pull him over. In the meantime, I’m to stay out of sight.”