Page 36 of Calder Strong (The Calder Brand #5)

She’d known she was in trouble when that older cowboy had stepped through the door.

She couldn’t recall his name, but she’d remembered him as a customer who’d treated her well and given her generous tips.

When he’d caught her eye and immediately stepped outside, she’d known that he remembered her as well.

Chase hadn’t said a word to her when he came back inside. But his coldness told the story. He knew. He knew everything. And when the last guest had gone, she would face the storm.

If this were a fairy tale, he would forgive her. They would marry and live happily ever after. But this was no fairy tale. And Chase Calder wasn’t a forgiving man.

Lola had stayed behind the scenes during the open house.

But once the party was over, she came out to close the front door and direct the kitchen staff at clearing out the trash, sweeping the floor, and rearranging the tables for the dinner meal.

She averted her gaze from Chase and Francine.

If her own guilt wasn’t already known, it soon would be.

It was Chase who broke the awkward silence as he took Francine’s arm. “Let’s go,” he said in an icy voice.

He walked her out to his Packard and held the door for her. “Where are we going?” she dared to ask as they drove out of the parking lot.

“We’re going back to the Homestead,” he said. “You’ll have a few minutes to pack your things. Then I’ll have one of my men drive you to Miles City. He’ll give you enough money for a hotel room and buy you a train ticket to wherever you want to go. After that, I never want to hear from you again.”

Her eyes flooded with tears. “Chase, I can’t change my past and what I did to survive. But I fell in love with you. That part was—and is—real.”

“Then you should have told me the truth. It’s not your past that I can’t forgive.

It’s the fact that you lied about it—lied when you swore you wouldn’t.

And you planned to hide the truth forever—or at least until it was too late for me to change my mind.

” He cast her a stony glance. “Before I forget, give me my mother’s ring.

There’s no more reason for you to wear it. ”

Anger rising, she twisted the ring off her finger and thrust it toward him. He took it from her and dropped it into his vest pocket.

Francine settled back in her seat, her arms folded across her chest. She was through talking.

And she was finished with this podunk town, its dowdy, backward women, and its tobacco-chewing, manure-smelling cowboys.

While she still had her youth, her looks, and her talent for charming men, she would move on and move up.

San Francisco sounded like a good idea. She could change her name, dye her hair, find herself a rich husband, and settle down to living the good life.

As for her sister, Lucy—or Lola, as she called herself now—she had made her own bed. For all Francine cared, the woman could stay in Blue Moon and rot.

Joseph stood by the pasture fence, watching Major, the new bull, prove that he was worth every dollar Joseph had paid for him.

He wasn’t as big as some Hereford studs, but he was a perfect animal—solid, muscular, and vigorous.

And he loved the ladies. His final measure would be taken in the calves he sired.

But so far, Joseph had every reason to be pleased.

“He knows his job, I’ll say that for him,” Hiram commented with a grin.

“Keep an eye on him,” Joseph said. “Have the boys separate him if there’s a problem. I’ll be at the house if you need me.”

He drove back up the bluff, planning to spend a couple of hours in the office, paying bills and updating the ranch books. Leaving the car in the front yard, he walked into a silent house. Even Patches was gone, probably buying groceries in town.

Most of the time, Joseph didn’t mind the stillness.

Even with his family around, he’d been a loner, taking refuge in books and horses.

Now, in the cool shadows of the old log house, he felt a deep emptiness.

He passed into the parlor, the empty rocking chair still in its place by the hearth.

Joseph could picture his mother there, rocking and humming to the click of her knitting needles.

The novel his sister had been reading lay on a side table, bookmarked where she’d left it to ride to town with her parents.

After the accident, Blake had refused to let these things be moved. For now, Joseph had left them alone.

His grandfather’s portrait gazed down at him from the wall, his stern presence as real as the memory of those so recently passed. What would the old man say if his spirit could speak? If he let his thoughts flow, Joseph could almost imagine hearing Joe Dollarhide’s stentorian voice.

The ranch is yours now, Joseph. But you can’t keep it on your own. Hard times are coming, with enemies closing in. If you want to survive, you’re going to need allies. You’re going to need strong family on your side .

Joseph could feel his resistance mounting. He had family—two aunts, their husbands, and their children, who would stand with him if trouble came.

He sensed what the next words would be. But he couldn’t stop what the voice in his thoughts was telling him.

I had two sons, Joseph. Two, not one. It’s time to make the family whole again .

Joseph had been a boy of fourteen when Mason had gone to prison.

Hurt and betrayed by the man he’d idolized, Joseph had cut off all connections with his natural father.

Even after Mason had served his sentence and settled into a respectable new life on his ranch, Joseph had kept his distance, refusing to forgive him.

At Blake’s grave, Mason had extended the hand of friendship. Still, Joseph was hesitant to trust him. Now he forced himself to ask what was holding him back. Was it fear? Or could it be his own self-righteous pride?

Joseph had made mistakes of his own. He thought of Annabeth and Lucas, sentenced to life with a brutal man.

And he remembered the reckless act that had cost a sheriff the use of his legs.

Jake, who was married to Joseph’s aunt Britta, had never held the tragedy against him.

But Joseph would always blame himself. How could he presume to judge another man?

It was time.

After letting Hiram know that he was leaving, Joseph drove to the main road and turned south toward the Hollister Ranch.

Mason, the son of Joe Dollarhide’s first wife, Amelia, had inherited the ranch from his late mother.

Modest in size, it was one of the choicest parcels in the county, its rolling green hills blessed with virgin soil and abundant well water, its cattle fat and contented.

He remembered going there for the first time in his early teens, crawling under the thorny hedge with his friends, Buck and Culley, to be met by a terrifying figure of a woman with a whip in her hands and two massive dogs at her side.

The woman and her dogs would be gone now.

But as he drove the familiar road, Joseph felt a shadow of the same trepidation.

Maybe he should have telephoned before leaving the house—the operator would have given him the number.

But it was too late for that now. Hating Mason Dollarhide had become a habit over the years.

The prospect of change was daunting. But it was time to face the emotions that had held him back.

The stately house, one of the few brick homes in the timber-rich county, was much as he remembered it. But the rusted wrought iron gate had been replaced, and the yard was well tended. Sunlight gleamed on the polished leaded windows.

Joseph left the car at the side of the road, opened the gate, and strode up the walk to the porch. After a beat of hesitation, he knocked on the door. He heard a light patter of footsteps before the door swung open.

“Joseph! It’s really you!” The khaki-clad woman in the doorway was petite, pretty, and vaguely familiar.

Her auburn hair was tied back with a scarf.

One hand held a feather duster. “You look puzzled,” she said, smiling.

“Don’t you remember me? My father gave you an airplane ride. I’m Ruby, Mason’s wife.”

Joseph’s memory cleared. “Sure, I remember you. I had a free ticket. You took it and helped me strap on my helmet. I knew Mason was married, but I had no idea it was to you.”

“Yes, there’s a long story behind that. But I suppose you’ve come to see Mason. He’s been so hopeful that you would.” She laid the feather duster on the arm of a chair, the silence becoming awkward.

“You were so excited about flying,” she said. “Did you ever become a pilot?”

“No. At the time it was all I wanted to do. But my father had other ideas. And now I’ve got a ranch to run,” Joseph said.

“Yes, I know. I was sorry about your father and that I couldn’t make it to the service.”

“I understood. Mason explained that your little girl was sick. I hope she’s doing better.”

“Grace is fine now. She’s out in the stable, watching her father fix a horse’s loose shoe. Follow me. I’ll take you to him.”

She led Joseph around the house and down the slope of the yard.

As the barn and stable came into sight, Joseph felt a stab of memory—the dark night, the canvas-covered trucks, and the crates of Canadian whiskey that he and his friends had unloaded for more money than they’d ever seen in their lives.

But the past was the past. It was time to let it go.

As they approached the stable, he could hear the faint, metallic ping of a hammer.

Upon entering, he saw Mason bent over the raised hoof of a big bay horse, hammering a shoe into place.

A few more blows finished the job. He released the hoof, straightened, and turned around. Only then did he see Joseph.

“Is everything all right?” He masked his surprise.

“Everything’s fine. You invited me over. I hope this isn’t a bad time.”