Page 33 of Calder Strong (The Calder Brand #5)

Joseph took his place beside her. “Take a look at this,” he said, handing her the will. “Annabeth slipped it to me in town when her husband wasn’t looking.”

Kristin read the document. “Oh, Joseph,” she murmured as she handed it back to him. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“First of all, her husband’s a brute. He hits her. I’ve seen the bruises on her face. She puts up with it because he’s threatened to take the children if she tries to leave—or if she has anything to do with me.”

“Does he know the boy is yours?”

Joseph nodded. “That only makes things worse. Annabeth claims he’s never hurt the children, but I’ve heard the way he talks about them.

If he puts those words into actions, they won’t be safe.

Neither will she, and she knows it. Why else would she write this will and give it to me, unless she was afraid he was going to kill her? ”

“You love her, don’t you?”

Joseph’s silence answered her question.

“I feel so damned helpless,” he said. “At least, I need to let her know I’m there for her and her children. But I don’t even know if this will is legal. It’s written in pencil, and the signature isn’t even witnessed.”

“The handwriting is fine—in fact, it strengthens the credibility of the will. The lack of a witness may or may not be a problem if the will’s contested.

But Joseph, nothing’s happened yet. She’s just letting you know that this is what she wants.

Right now, all you can do is reassure her that if the worst happens, you’ll fight to your last breath to protect those children. ”

“I hope she knows that,” Joseph said. “I’d give my life for them, the little girl as well as Lucas.

The same for Annabeth. But she won’t leave her husband if there’s any chance of losing her children.

If the case goes to court, you know who will win.

Not that he cares about Lucas and Ellie.

He’d take them away just to punish her.”

“Yes. I keep hoping that someday things will change and the law will give women more rights. But that won’t help you now.”

“I could turn him in for running moonshine. I’ve threatened to if he hurts her again.”

“He’s a small-time criminal,” Kristin said.

“The courts and jails are overflowing with people like him. If he goes to trial, he could get a fine, maybe a very short sentence, or nothing but a slap on the wrist. And what would he do after that? Probably take out his anger on Annabeth and the children. Leave it, Joseph. There’s nothing you can do that won’t make things worse. ”

“But Lucas is my—”

“Don’t even say it. Annabeth was already married when Lucas was born. Not unlike your mother when you were born. If you want to spend the time and money, you can talk to a lawyer. But he’ll tell you the same thing. You can’t change the past. Silas Mosby is Lucas’s legal father.”

Kristin rose at the sound of footsteps on the front porch. “That’ll be my next appointment. Keep the will in a safe place and pray you’ll never need it. I care about your problem, Joseph. I really do. But that’s the best advice I can give you.”

Joseph drove home, lost in thought. Kristin’s advice had been sound. But how could he stand back and let Annabeth be abused? He had threatened to report Silas to the law. But as Kristin had pointed out, it was an empty threat.

For now, all he could do was hold himself back, keep an eye on Annabeth and her children, and try to be there in case of trouble.

He’d driven partway up the switchback road when he noticed that another car—a beat-up Model T—was following him.

His first thought was that it might be Silas.

But he swiftly realized that this was a different vehicle, one whose driver he couldn’t identify, although he could see the vague outline of a cowboy hat through the dusty windshield.

There was no safe place to stop on the steep, narrow road until he got to the top.

Then Joseph pulled off to one side, giving the Model T room to park.

Before getting out of his car, he opened the glove box, took out the loaded pistol, and cocked it.

When it came to strangers, he couldn’t be too careful.

The man who stepped out of the old car was dressed in ragged cowboy clothes. He was tall but stoop-shouldered, as if from long years in the saddle. Joseph guessed him to be in his late fifties. In one hand, he held a folded newspaper that appeared to be a recent edition of the Miles City Star .

His free hand lifted off his Stetson, revealing a face that was tanned and wrinkled like an old leather glove. His thick hair, which wanted cutting, was iron gray. Joseph could see that the man was unarmed. He released the hammer on the pistol and laid the weapon aside.

“Do I have the pleasure of speaking with Mr. Joseph Dollarhide?” The man’s speech was flat, with a slight midwestern twang.

“You do, sir.”

“Hiram Hatch is the name. When I asked folks in town how to find you, they pointed out your car, so I just followed you. I’m here about the advertisement you placed.” He made a gesture with the newspaper. “Are you still looking for an experienced cowhand?”

“The job’s still open. It remains to be seen whether you’re the right man. Come sit on the porch and we’ll talk. I can get you something to drink. Cider?”

“No thanks.” Hatch settled himself on the top step, his skinny knees jutting upward. “Your ad called for an experienced cowhand. One look at me should put that concern to rest. You can ask me anything you want. I’ve long since outlived any secrets.”

He spoke as if he’d had some education, which piqued Joseph’s curiosity. “You don’t talk like most cowboys I know,” he said.

He chuckled. “So it shows, does it?” My father was a history professor at Brigham Young University in Utah.

I was brought up to follow in his footsteps.

But I was the black sheep of the family.

They put up with my rebellious ways for a while, but they finally cast me out.

I haven’t been home in more than forty years. ”

“Your family cast you out? What did you do to deserve that?”

“I killed a man in an Ogden bar fight. Didn’t mean to do it, just hit him too hard. I served six years for manslaughter. When I got out, the letter that was waiting for me said I wouldn’t be welcomed at home. So I took to cowboying—a profession that’s lasted me the rest of my life.”

He laughed at Joseph’s stunned expression. “See? I told you I’d outlived my secrets. Wouldn’t want you to find out later and think I’d hidden something from you. You need to know you can trust me. But if it’s experience you want, I’ve worked on ranches in Wyoming, Colorado, Texas, and Missouri.”

“Is there some reason you moved around so much?” Joseph asked.

“Just restless. Things change. And people change. On my last job, I was foreman of a sweet little Missouri ranch. Great people. But they had a run of bad luck and lost the place to the bank. So I decided to try my luck here in Montana.” He shifted his bony haunches on the step.

“So tell me about the job, and we can decide if I’m suitable. ”

“It’s pretty much regular cowboy work,” Joseph said. “But I’ve got four young cowhands who need whipping into shape. They’re good boys, but they need a boss to give them orders and keep them working, maybe put a little fear in them as well. Does that sound like something you could do?”

“You’ve heard my story. What do you think?”

“I think you might be just the man for the job,” Joseph said.

“You’d need to start right away. We’ll be getting a new bull shipped in next week.

He’s arriving by train, so I’ll be picking him up in Miles City.

Before he gets here, we’ll need the pasture fences shored up and the heifers gathered.

When the breeding’s done, we’ll be getting ready for the fall roundup. ”

“Sounds like the kind of work I’ve been doing most of my life,” Hiram said.

“But you’ll also be riding herd on four youngsters who’ve got a lot to learn.

And you’ll be reporting everything to me.

If you’re agreeable to that, follow me down to see the cattle operation and meet the boys.

If everything still looks good, we’ll talk about your wages, and you can unload your gear in the bunkhouse. ”

With Hiram following in his Model T, Joseph drove back down the road and took the turnoff to the bunkhouse.

With luck, he would end the day with some issues resolved.

Francine was engaged and no longer a concern of his.

And now, hopefully, he’d found a good man to oversee the cowboys and the cattle.

Annabeth’s will was still tucked in his pocket. For now, he would file the will away and keep a distant watch on Annabeth and her children. But what would he do if Silas hurt her again? How could he manage to restrain himself?

Things change. And people change . Hiram’s words surfaced in his thoughts. Nothing was settled. Nothing was certain. He could only brace for whatever was to come and try to be ready.

Francine lay in Chase’s arms, watching the play of reflected moonlight on her diamond engagement ring. This would be her last night in the small house attached to the school. Tomorrow she would be moving to the majestic, pillared house known as the Homestead, on the Triple C Ranch.

She had done it. She had won her dream.

And once she was Mrs. Chase Calder, her sister could go to hell.

Chase pulled her closer. She nestled against him.

His bare chest was warm, with a dusting of crisp, dark hair.

He smelled of sagebrush and leather. “Once you’ve moved into the house, we’ll need to behave ourselves until the wedding,” he murmured in her ear.

“We won’t be alone. There’ll be servants.

I want them to respect you as a proper lady.

If we’re fooling around, they’ll know it.

They’ll talk, and the gossip will spread.

I won’t stand for any whispering behind your back. Understand?”