Page 30 of Calder Strong (The Calder Brand #5)

What would the old man have to say if he could be here now?

Joseph walked outside. The day was clear, the torrid weather cooled by an early breath of Montana autumn.

It would feel good to get out of the house for a while.

He would check on the sawmill and the cattle, then head into town to gas the Ford, check the mail at the post office, and pick up some supplies at the Feed and Hardware store.

Maybe he would pay a call on Francine if she was at home. He might even suggest lunch if she didn’t bridle at accepting a last-minute invitation. She was a lovely, charming young woman who would make any man a suitable wife. He owed himself the chance to know her better.

At the sawmill, he found the replacement wheel standing idle and Seamus O’Brien, the shift foreman, oiling the gears. “Is everything all right?” Joseph asked.

“Everything’s fine, Boss,” the Irishman said.

“We’re just makin’ sure she stays that way.

If we’re to fill that order for the new warehouse, we’ve got to run steady all day.

We can’t have the engine breakin’ down.” He took a clipboard from its place on a nearby hook.

“This here’s a list of the sizes and grades for the order that’s due at the end of the month.

This column shows the output for each day.

This one shows how much we’ve delivered.

We got behind when the blade broke, but now that it’s runnin’, we’re almost caught up.

I give the gears a few drops of oil at the start of every shift and a good going over every week, which is what I’m doing now.

Your dad trained us well, God rest his soul. ”

Those last words stayed with Joseph as he drove away and headed for the bunkhouse.

As the new man at the helm of the Dollarhide empire, he couldn’t be everywhere at once.

He needed to start delegating. Tomorrow, he would promote Seamus O’Brien to be production boss at the mill, reporting directly to him.

He would also give the man a well-deserved raise and look into promoting other valued employees.

The cattle operation was another story. The four cowhands, hired by Blake, were decent boys, but with no one to give them direction, they tended to overlook things that needed to be done.

Today Joseph found that one of the water troughs hadn’t been filled, and a fence post on the far pasture was about to topple and bring the fence down with it.

More than once, he’d been tempted to fire the lot of them, but that would mean hiring others who might not be any better.

What the young cowboys really needed was someone there full time to tell them what to do.

That would mean hiring a new man, an experienced cowboy who knew the job and could put fear in any slackers.

He would put up a notice in town today or, better yet, run an ad in the Miles City paper and hope the right person would respond.

The fall roundup was a couple of months off.

Joseph had been working cattle since he was old enough to sit a horse.

But this would be his first year as roundup boss.

Having a well-trained crew could cut days off the job of gathering, sorting, branding, and processing the herd—but only if he could find the right man to work the boys into shape.

He added the item to his mental list as he drove into town.

Blue Moon was bustling with activity this morning, with folks taking advantage of the cooler weather to run their errands.

Passing the school attached to Francine’s house, he noticed that the door and windows had been opened to let in the fresh air.

He parked in the schoolyard and crossed the porch.

Through the open doorway, he could see Francine on her knees arranging books on a low shelf.

For a long moment, he stood watching her, admiring her graceful movements as she wiped each book with a cloth and replaced it on the shelf. When she failed to notice him, he knocked lightly on the doorframe.

As she glanced up, the startled look on her face melted into a smile. “Hello, Joseph,” she said. “You caught me working. This classroom is covered with a year’s worth of dust. Since there’s no one else around, cleaning it appears to be part of my job.”

She stood and walked toward him. Her hair was twisted up and pinned with loose curls framing her flushed face. One rosy cheek was smudged with coal dust. The effect was enchanting. “I don’t suppose you’ve come to offer your help, have you?” She gave him a wistful look.

Joseph was tempted for a moment. But she appeared to have the simple job well in hand, and this wasn’t how he’d planned to spend his day. “Maybe another time,” he said. “This morning, I’ve got some errands to run. But I was hoping to take you to lunch later, if you’d do me the honor.”

She raised an eyebrow, giving him a look of mild displeasure. “I’ll think about it. Come back after your errands and ask me again. Maybe by then I’ll be hungry.”

Joseph could tell that she was peeved. But he wasn’t about to change his plans on a whim. “I’ll do that,” he said. “Think it over. I’ll stop by on my way out of town.”

“Fine.” She flounced away. Joseph was about to leave when she suddenly turned around and walked back to him. “This is so you won’t forget me,” she whispered, and planted a firm kiss on his mouth.

Before Joseph could react, she backed away from him, laughing at his surprise. “In case you’re wondering, that was an apology,” she said. “And I’ll accept that invitation to lunch.”

“Fine. We’ll talk then.” Joseph took his leave of her, hoping that no one passing by had looked through an open window and seen her kissing him. She could lose her job for that. But Francine didn’t seem concerned.

Lost in thought, Joseph climbed into his car and drove the rest of the way downtown.

Life with a woman like Francine would never be dull.

But would she be satisfied with what he had to offer her?

She seemed to thrive on excitement and drama.

Where would she find that as the wife of a busy rancher?

He would take his time finding out, Joseph resolved.

But he couldn’t deny that the idea of marriage was already playing in his mind.

At the Feed and Hardware store, he bought a salt block for the cattle, some burlap sacks of oats for the horses, and a roll of barbed wire to replace the weak spots in the fence.

After filling the Ford’s tank at the gas station and checking the mail, he remembered needing Arbuckle Coffee—the traditional brand that Blake had always favored.

Joseph had begun drinking it in his memory. Now the supply was almost gone.

He entered the general store and wove his way among the shoppers to the aisle where the cans of coffee were found. He was about to take what he needed when he heard his name, spoken in a voice that barely rose above a whisper.

“Joseph.”

His heart slammed. Annabeth stood beside him, a loaded shopping basket over her arm and her little girl clinging to her skirt. Only when she turned and looked up at him did he see the blackened eye and the wine-colored bruise, still fresh, that covered the side of her face from temple to jaw.

“Annabeth—”

“Don’t say anything. I asked for this. It was the price I paid for getting what I needed. I’ll be all right.”

“Until he does it again. Damn it, Annabeth—” Her calm resignation only fueled Joseph’s rage. I should’ve left the sonofabitch to die , he thought. I could’ve taken care of her. I could’ve claimed my son .

“You deserve better than this,” he said. “Leave him. Take the children. I’ll help you.”

She shook her head. “You know things don’t work that way.

The law would be on his side. I could lose my children.

” She glanced around nervously. “Listen. We don’t have much time.

I need to give you something.” She slipped a tightly folded sheet of paper out of her bodice.

“I didn’t expect to see you here. I was looking for someone I could trust to get this to the right place.

But you’re the one who should have it.” She thrust the paper toward him.

“Don’t look at it here. Put it in your pocket before someone sees. ”

He did as she’d asked, tucking the paper into the chest pocket of his shirt. As he did so, he felt a tug at his pants leg. He glanced down to find Ellie grinning up at him. As he gave her a smile, the little girl reached up, clearly wanting to be lifted into his arms.

“She remembers you,” Annabeth said. “But you mustn’t pick her up. People might be watching.”

“Sorry, sweetheart.” Joseph gave the small hand a gentle squeeze. “Is she all right?” he asked Annabeth. “Does Silas ever hurt your children, or even threaten to?”

“No. Never. If he were to do that …” She took a breath. “If he were to do that, I would kill him.”

“Where’s Lucas?” Joseph asked.

“Outside in the car with Silas. They’re waiting for me. I still have things to buy. You’d better go.”

Joseph knew he should leave now—preferably by a discreet back door.

He could buy coffee another time or have Patches pick it up.

But as he gazed down into Annabeth’s beautiful, battered face, he felt as if his feet were rooted to the floor.

How could he leave her like this, at the mercy of a brutal man, with nothing to sustain her but her courage and her love for her little ones?

He wanted to cup her face between his hands and kiss her with healing tenderness. He wanted to take her in his arms and promise to keep her and her children safe forever. But not everything he wished for could be made to happen.

“Go,” she whispered. “Please, Joseph.”

“Be safe, Annabeth.” He forced himself to turn away and walk out of the front door.