Calder Storm (Calder Saga 10)

A bunch of quarters clattered onto the counter. “You’re the new owner, aren’t you?” the cowboy asked.

“That’s right,” Donovan confirmed as he caught a fleeting glimpse of the couple exiting the dance floor.

“For your information, you’re paying for this drink, ’cause I just hit a fifty-dollar jackpot over there on your slots.”

“Glad to hear it.” Donovan declared and set the mug in front of him. “I like to keep my machines loose. It brings customers back.”

“I’ll remember that.” The cowboy took a swig of beer, then wiped away the foam on his mouth and stuck out his hand. “By the way, my name’s Matt Rivers. My dad owns the old Kennesaw spread north of here.”

“Mine’s Donovan. Glad to have you.” He stacked some dirty glasses in the under-the-counter washer. “It’s going to take me a while, I guess, to get all the names and faces straight and know who’s who and who’s not.”

“I’ll bet it is,” the young cowboy agreed. “Especially when you got a crowd like this.”

“It’s been hard.” Donovan was quick to make use of the young cowboy’s willingness to talk. “And in a small town, customers expect you to know who they are. Like tonight, the Calders are here having dinner. I recognized the old man from pictures I’ve seen of him. The same with Jessy Calder. The son and his wife were easy to spot. But there was a cowboy with them—blue eyes, sandy hair, probably older than he looks. I can’t figure out where he fits in.”

“Sounds like Laredo,” Matt Rivers stated without hesitation. “He’s been with the Calders for years.”

“Is he their foreman or something?”

“Naw. He just works there.”

“Really?” Donovan said with surprise. “Do the Calders usually have an ordinary ranch hand eat with them?”

“No,” he admitted, and shrugged. “Laredo’s different, though.”

“How so?” Donovan pressed with open curiosity.

A frown of uncertainty flickered over the man’s voice. “I don’t know. I think old man Calder was married to his mother or his aunt—I think it was his mother.”

“Then he’d be Calder’s stepson.”

The cowboy smiled, his own confusion clearing. “I guess he would at that. Which just goes to prove what anyone around here will tell you—the Triple C is a clannish bunch. They always favor their own over outsiders.”

“So I’ve heard.” Yet Donovan thought it a bit odd that Laredo hadn’t claimed the relationship when he introduced himself. More than that, he wondered why Rutledge hadn’t mentioned it to him. But the answer to that would have to wait until morning.

A vigorous hand rang the church bell, summoning worshippers to the morning service. The only customer in The Oasis was a passing truck driver, busy dividing his attention between the tall stack of pancakes in front of him and the buxom waitress bending low to refill his coffee cup.

With the lull in business promising to be a long one, Donovan unlocked the door to the back office, stepped inside, and relocked it before crossing to the desk. He took a seat and dialed the number he had long ago committed to memory.

“It’s Donovan,” he identified himself the minute Rutledge answered. “Do you have a few minutes?”

“I do. Did the Calders show up last night?”

“They did. You never mentioned that Chase Calder has a stepson.

“It’s the first I heard of it.”

“That’s what a rancher’s son told me last night. The stepson goes by the name of Laredo Smith. When I first met him, I would have sworn he was a bodyguard. But the cowboy claimed his mother was married to the old man.”

“As far as I know,” Rutledge began in a thought-filled voice, “Chase Calder was only married twice. His first wife was the daughter of a neighboring rancher up there. And his second wife was a widow by the name of Hattie Ludlow. She owned a small ranch not far from mine. Chase bought it from her shortly before they married. I don’t recall that she had any children, but I’ll find out.”

“If this Laredo is supposed to be her son, then his last name should be Ludlow, unless he had a different father. And there’s always the possibility that my source got it wrong,” Donovan admitted. “Initially he wasn’t sure if the woman was Laredo’s aunt or his mother. Whoever he is, he’s in damned tight with the family.”

“Is that why you’re so interested in him? Do you think you can turn him? Get him to feed us information?”

“Not this one.” Donovan was certain of that. “No, I saw something in his eyes I didn’t like. I don’t know what your plans are, and I don’t want to know. But a word of warning—watch out for this guy. He can be dangerous.”