Calder Storm (Calder Saga 10)

“I didn’t buy anything. You did.”

“Right.” Donovan nodded and muttered under his breath, “Lucky me.” Louder, he said, “The last of the new kitchen equipment is being installed as we speak, and the electrician is finishing up all the wiring for the machines. They’re due here on Monday. The new menus are all set, and the food’s scheduled to be delivered next week. I’m pushing to have a big blowout of a grand opening the weekend after next, complete with invitations sent to everyone within a hundred miles. I think I can count on the Calders being here.”

“Good. I need all the information you can get me. No matter how meaningless it sounds to you, pass it on. I’ll judge what’s worthless and what isn’t.”

“You’ll know everything I do,” Donovan assured him. “Which reminds me—I don’t know if you’re in the market for a ranch, but according to the gal that runs the gas station across the road, the Kaufman spread might be coming on the market.”

“I don’t think I am, but send me the information on it anyway. What else have you heard?”

“Nothing about the Calders, except that the lack of rain is hurting them just like it is all the ranchers in the area. For the most part, all the locals want to talk about is the good ole days when the pit mine was up and running, and the town was really hopping. If you want stories about that, I’ve got plenty of them.”

“That was Dyson’s operation,” Rutledge mused, giving Donovan the impression he was talking to himself.

“That’s right. His daughter Tara was once married to old man Calder’s son. There are all kinds of stories about her and how extravagant she is. Nobody around here likes anything about her, other than her money. According to them, she treats it like sand in a desert. Right now she’s footing the bill to redecorate some rooms at the main house as a wedding present for the Calder newlyweds. The price is going to be steep, I hear. But it sure made it easy for me to import all my workers without offending the locals.”

“Has there been any talk about the mine reopening?”

“Just some wishful thinking. But it isn’t something people around here would know, with the exception of Dyson’s daughter.”

“I doubt even she would know. Not that it matters. That coal operation won’t be of any use to me anyway.”

“It’s your call,” Donovan agreed readily. “My job is to get you information.”

“Then get that place open and get me some. The Calders aren’t invulnerable; nobody is. There’s a way to get to them. Find it.”

“Yes sir.” But the line had already gone dead.

Spurs and cowboy hat in hand, Jessy closed the bedroom door behind her and headed to the staircase. The only sound to be heard was the hollow echo of her own footsteps. Silence had become so alien these last few weeks that Jessy couldn’t fail to notice it. Automatically she glanced at the open door to the master suite.

A mix of curiosity and memories pulled her to the opening. She paused in the doorway, a hand on the jamb, and looked around the sitting room, not so much noting its new wall color or its sparcity of furniture, as remembering her own time in it.

Before the past could take hold on Jessy, Sloan came out of the adjoining bedroom, armed with rags and glass cleaner, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She came to an abrupt halt.

“Jessy,” she said in surprise. “I thought you left over an hour ago.”

“I forgot my hat, which shows I haven’t spent much time outside lately.” Again Jessy let her glance drift over the room. “It’s close to being done.”

“Finally.” The ghost of remembered frustrations was in the sigh that followed Sloan’s emphatic statement. “Now we’re just waiting for the rugs and the rest of the furniture to arrive. Then it will be just a matter of dressing the rooms with pictures and things, and we can move back in.”

Currently an overstuffed sofa with a side table and an old walnut rocker were the only articles of furniture in the room. But it was the old rocker that caught Jessy’s eye.

“I see you still have that old chair in here,” she remarked.

Sloan nodded. “It has good lines, and it’s m

uch more comfortable than it looks.”

“I know.” Jessy wandered over to it and absently touched the back of it to start its rocking motion. “After the twins were born, we turned the sitting room into a nursery. I spent many an hour rocking one or the other of them in this chair.”

“I didn’t know that,” Sloan admitted with some surprise. Yet she couldn’t help noticing that far-off look in Jessy’s eyes that suggested she was remembering when she had occupied the master suite with her late husband. A little uneasy, she asked, “Does it bother you? All the changes we’ve made in here, I mean.”

“No. It was time.” The statement was made with a calm certainty that showed Jessy was completely comfortable with the situation. An easy smile curved her wide lips. “By the way, Nancy Taylor showed me the pictures you took of her family. She couldn’t stop talking about what a great job you did. Deservedly so.”

“Thank you. I thought they turned out well.” Sloan was always more critical of her work than others were, but she did think the pictures had turned out well. “They may have opened the floodgates, though. Nancy must have shown them to nearly everyone on the ranch. Now they all want me to take pictures of their families. I guess it’s a good thing Laredo set up that temporary darkroom in the basement for me.”

Jessy laughed softly in understanding. “You’d better cross your fingers that Nancy doesn’t take them into Blue Moon on Saturday night, or you’ll be getting phone calls from everyone in the area. From what I hear, they’re all going to the grand opening of Harry’s old place.”

“Yes. Trey told me we were invited.” Sloan wasn’t exactly enthused about the idea, aware that it was likely to be crowded and noisy, neither of which conditions appealed to her.