Page 3 of Calder Strong (The Calder Brand #5)

Price-wise, the Tudor was at the low end of the Ford line.

But driving the shiny red auto was pure pleasure.

The motor started up without the need of a crank.

The forty-horsepower engine gave it a top speed of sixty-five miles per hour, with a three-speed sliding gear and a single speed reverse.

The four-wheel mechanical drum brakes could stop on a dime.

The day Joseph had driven his father home from the hospital, Blake, braced and in pain, had complained all the way about the cost of buying a new car when several hundred dollars could have been saved on a used Model T.

But Joseph had understood that the real issue wasn’t money.

It was that Blake had been bypassed in the decision to buy the car. He hadn’t even been asked.

For now, Joseph would be walking a tightrope between pleasing his father and carrying out his new responsibilities. Much as he longed to be free again, there could be no turning away from the demands of the ranch and the mill.

Had Chase Calder felt the same when his father died, leaving his son to run the biggest ranch in Montana? No, Chase had stepped into his new role as if born to it—which he was. Chase had been the crown prince of the Calder line from his boyhood. Now he was king.

Joseph felt more like a glorified lackey, in charge of the family enterprises but accountable to his father for every decision.

Now, as he drove down the switchback road from the house, he put out a hand to keep the briefcase from sliding off the seat beside him.

He slowed the car as he passed the place where Blake had swerved the Model T and careened over the side.

Joseph’s first order, the day after the accident, had been to have the crumbling edge shored up with rocks and timbers.

Other spots on the road to the bluff were equally at risk.

He would need to get a crew on road repair soon, before another tragedy occurred.

After stopping by the sawmill and taking time to check with the foreman on duty, Joseph drove on to the junction with the main road and made a right turn toward town.

The week of the accident, the road had been a quagmire of mud.

The recent summer hot spell had dried the potholes, ridges, and furrows to the hardness of concrete.

The Model A lurched and shuddered over the washboard surface, jarring Joseph’s bones.

As far as he knew, the only paved road in fifty miles ran the short distance from downtown Miles City to the railway depot. With so many people driving autos, there’d surely be a demand for more paving. Somebody with the money to invest would be in line to make a fortune.

That wouldn’t be him. But while he was in Miles City, he would arrange a bid on getting the bluff road graded and graveled. The cost would probably be more than the ranch could afford. But he couldn’t just sit back and wait for another tragedy.

What would Blake say to that idea? It made sense that Joseph’s father would approve. But Blake had been hard to read since the accident.

As he drove into Blue Moon, Joseph’s thoughts shifted to his plans for the day.

He would stop there to fill the Model A’s gas tank and check for mail at the post office.

After that, he would drive to Miles City and spend his time doing business.

That business would include submitting bids for two new lumber contracts.

His heart wasn’t in the job, but he owed the family his best effort.

Midmorning was the busiest time in Blue Moon—the time when farmers came in for supplies at the Feed and Hardware and their wives came along to shop at the general store.

It was a time for greeting friends, exchanging gossip, and looking over the newest goods.

Children who trailed after their mothers might get a penny treat.

This was a prosperous time for the small town, which, in its long history, had gone from road stop to boom town to derelict and in recent years had settled into a dowdy sort of permanence.

Autos, buggies, and wagons were parked along the main street.

Horses drowsed in the sun, swishing flies with their tails and dropping piles of fresh manure in the dust. Ladies kept to the boardwalk, mindful of their shoes.

Jake’s Place, a former saloon converted by Prohibition to a restaurant, had been sold to an unknown buyer.

A couple of workers were piling unwanted items—cardboard boxes, stained table linens and bedding, broken furniture, charred pans, and other trash—onto a wagon.

Jake and his restaurant had been well liked, even with the “nieces” he brought in to wait tables and ply their trade up the back stairs.

People agreed that it was a shame to see the roadhouse close, especially because of its tender, juicy steaks, cooked to order.

Maybe the new place would have more class, but to most folks, that wouldn’t matter as long as the food was good.

The street was crowded. Joseph geared down and slowed the auto to a crawl.

A trio of girls in fluttery summer dresses crossed in front of him, giggling and skipping.

They appeared to be about fifteen. Too young for him.

But the sight of them, so gay and pretty, sparked the memory of his father’s order to find a wife.

Joseph was in no hurry to lose his freedom. But Blake wouldn’t be fully satisfied until the proper woman was found, married, bedded, and pregnant. At least, Joseph would need to show that he was willing. But marriage was a lifetime commitment. Would finding a woman he could love be asking too much?

He’d lost his virginity at nineteen to a pretty and very willing farm girl named Annabeth Coleman.

The romance had lasted a few dizzying weeks.

But Joseph had only been looking for a good time.

And Annabeth’s plan to get pregnant and marry a rancher’s son had scared him off.

When he’d stopped calling, she’d wed a dirt farmer like her father and disappeared from his life.

By now she was probably raising a passel of barefoot kids.

Joseph had barely broken up with Annabeth when he’d fallen hard for the ladylike Lucy Merriweather, a guest of the Calders.

He’d never gotten more than a few kisses from the glamorous brunette.

But that was just as well. She’d turned out to be a married con artist who’d left a trail of ruined lives behind her.

The last he’d heard of Lucy, the woman had been sentenced to prison for fraud and was serving time.

There’d been a few other women over the years, the encounters brief and meaningless.

None of the ladies had been the sort Joseph would choose for his future family.

So here he was now, without a prospective wife in sight—and no time to look for one.

It was all he could do to handle his responsibilities with the ranch and the mill.

Blake’s wish for a new family would have to wait.

Lost in thought, Joseph barely glimpsed the small child who darted into the street, right in front of his auto. Seeing the flash of her blue pinafore, he slammed on the brakes and leaped out of the car, imagining the worst.

But no, thank heaven, he’d stopped in time. A little girl, about three years old with wheaten braids, stood in front of the car with traffic and people milling around her. She was wailing at the top of her lungs.

“ Ma … Ma …”

Joseph swept her up in his arms, meaning to get her out of the road and find somebody to take her. But being picked up by a stranger only frightened the child more. She squirmed and kicked, her wails rising to high-pitched shrieks.

“Ellie? Oh, my stars, Ellie!” A woman had burst out of the general store and was pushing her way through the crowd. Dressed in faded gingham, her face shadowed by a drooping straw hat, she battled her way to Joseph’s side.

“Mama!” The little girl screamed and struggled. Her cries faded to sobs as she saw her mother. Workworn hands, a thin gold band on one finger, reached up to take the child. Joseph exhaled with relief as those hands lifted the little wildcat from his arms.

“Elinor Mosby, you scared me to death!” the woman scolded her daughter as she cradled her close. “I was looking for you everywhere! Why did you go outside?”

“I saw a puppy,” the little girl whimpered. “I wanted to pet him. He ran over there.” She pointed toward the far side of the street. “Don’t be mad at me, Mama.”

“I’m not mad. But you can’t just go running into the street. You could’ve been …”

Her words trailed off, as if she’d just become aware of Joseph, who was standing a step away. She raised her head, giving him a first look at the face below the broad-brimmed hat.

“Forgive me for ignoring you, sir,” she said. “It would be rude of me not to thank you for rescuing my daughter.”

He stared down at her, almost forgetting to breathe. How could a man forget that heart-shaped face, framed by tendrils of sun-streaked golden hair? How could he not remember the little cleft in her chin and the violet eyes, their color so deep that in a certain light they appeared almost purple?

Her lips parted. She stepped back, looking as if she were about to turn and flee. Joseph knew she was married. But he couldn’t help wanting to delay her, if even for a few seconds.

“Hello, Annabeth,” he said. “It’s been a while.”

“Yes. It has … Joseph.” Her eyes were as wide and startled as a doe’s. Her arms clasped the little girl almost protectively. Joseph hadn’t meant to make the woman feel uncomfortable. But clearly she was.

How long had it been since he’d last seen her? Not since before her marriage, Joseph realized. Was it a coincidence that so much time had passed without a word or a glimpse, or had she been avoiding him? In a small town like Blue Moon, that would take some effort.