“I never said that,” Trey protested.
“You didn’t have to,” Sloan retorted. “You looked at me like I just committed a cardinal sin.”
“I was surprised,” he said in his own defense. “It never occurred to me that you would call him.”
“Well, I did. Did you think your family were the only ones who were curious why he never mentioned that there had been contact between his family and yours?”
“And what was his”—Trey started to say “excuse” but quickly changed it—“answer?”
“He explained that I sounded so happy when I told him I was engaged to you, he had been reluctant to mention the things Boone had done.” Sloan paused, suddenly turning earnest. “I don’t think you understand, Trey. He’s such a proud man. He has to be ashamed of what his son did. I know that’s why he must find it so painful to talk about.”
The sympathy in her voice touched a nerve. As far as Trey was concerned, there was no man less deserving of it than one who shifted all the blame onto his dead son just to keep his own name clean.
“Are you sure we’re talking about the same Max Rutledge?” he challenged tightly. “The one I met would only be ashamed that his son got caught.”
“How dare you say that!” Sloan erupted in anger. “You don’t know him at all!”
“And you do? I thought you said you were never that close. Yet here you are, claiming to understand how he feels. Which is the truth, Sloan?”
“I have known that man all my life.” Every word was carefully and firmly enunciated, a tight anger trembling in her voice. “How many times have you met him? Once? Twice?”
Working to haul in his temper, Trey looked at her for a long second. “One of the first things I was taught as a boy was how to recognize a rattlesnake. It doesn’t matter whether it’s coiled and ready to strike or just slithering through the grass, it still has fangs and venom. Only a fool is blind to that.”
“Uncle Max is a rattlesnake now, is he?” Sarcasm was thick in her voice.
A muscle leaped convulsively along his clenched jaw. “I think we’d better agree to disagree where Max Rutledge is concerned and just drop the subject.”
“Fine,” she snapped and jerked the napkin across her lap.
The solution was far from a satisfactory one, and Trey knew it. At the same time he couldn’t pretend that Rutledge was innocent of any wrongdoing, not even to please Sloan. And she refused to concede the possibility of his guilt. Which left no area for compromise.
Swept by a sudden raw energy, Trey pivoted away from her and muttered, “I’ll throw another log on the fire.”
Before he could take the first step toward the wood box, the phone rang. Trey swung around to answer it. When he saw the way Sloan’s glance ricocheted from the phone to him, suspicion reared its head.
“Was Uncle Max going to call you back, or should I answer it?” he challenged smoothly.
“You can answer it. I’m eating.” She dipped a fork into the vegetable medley on her plate, all cool and stiff. “But if it is Uncle Max, I’ll talk to him.”
One rigid stride carried him to the telephone. He snatched the receiver from its cradle and carried it to his ear. “This is Trey,” he said curtly.
A man’s voice spoke above a background din of music and voices. “Is Johnny there?”
“Johnny?”
“Yeah, I was given this number and told to ask for Johnny. This is the Calder Ranch, isn’t it?”
“It is, but Johnny isn’t here. Who is this?” Trey couldn’t place the man’s voice.
“My name’s Al. I’m the bartender at The Oasis. We got one of your cowboys here who’s too drunk to stand, let alone walk or drive. Sounded like he said his name was Tank, but it’s probably Hank.”
“No, it’s Tank,” Trey acknowledged.
“Well, Tank is tanked. He said this Johnny fella would come get him.”
“There’s bound to be other Triple C hands there who can give him a ride home.”
The initial response was a partially muffled, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be right there.” The promise obviously was issued to someone else. “Look, this place is packed,” he said to Trey. “I haven’t got time to poll the customers and find out who works where. Donovan said I should call out of courtesy since a lot of our business comes from the Triple C. But I don’t really care whether the guy spends the night in the drunk tank or not.”