Page 6 of Calder Strong (The Calder Brand #5)
“ I SAW THE WAY HE LOOKED AT YOU — AND THE WAY HE LOOKED AT the boy.” Silas’s voice was as harsh as a slap. “What did he say to you?”
Backed against the kitchen table, Annabeth willed herself not to shrink away from him. Silas’s rages could be terrifying, but she’d done nothing wrong and she had her pride.
“I asked you what he said.” Silas took a step closer, looming over her.
“He said hello, or something to that effect,” Annabeth replied in a level voice. “That was all.”
“And what did you say to him?”
“I thanked him for saving Ellie. She could’ve been hit, you know. Somebody said that she ran right in front of the car.”
“And why weren’t you watching her? Maybe your eyes were somewhere else.”
Annabeth ignored the innuendo. “She was right next to me, holding my skirt. Then she saw a puppy outside, and she was off like a shot. I was looking for her when I heard the squeal of brakes. My heart stopped. But she was all right.”
Not that she owed her husband an explanation, Annabeth thought. Most of the time, Silas paid no more attention to his daughter than he did to the ranch dog. He’d never wanted a girl.
Glancing out through the kitchen window, Annabeth could see her children in the yard, throwing a stick for Freckles, the collie mix. She always kept a sharp eye on them. They were bold, inquisitive, and precious beyond words. And here on the ranch, there were plenty of dangers.
“What about the boy?” Silas’s gaze drilled into her. “Did the bastard see him?”
Annabeth forced herself to meet his eyes. “How would I know what he saw? Lucas was curious enough to ask about him, but you heard my answer, Silas. I said he was nobody. Stop making this into something it isn’t.”
“Nobody?” His powerful hand gripped her arm. “I saw the way you were looking at nobody . And I saw the way he was looking at you.”
“You saw nothing. There was nothing to see. Let go of me, Silas. Let me go to my children.”
“They’re our children, and don’t you forget it.” His grip on her arm bruised her flesh. “And I’d better not catch that man coming around my family. If I do, so help me, God, I’ll tie him down, sharpen my knife, and make damn sure he never ruins another woman.”
In Miles City, Joseph left the Ford at a mechanic’s shop and walked up the street to the sheriff’s office. He probably looked like a homeless bum, but he walked with a purposeful stride. He was a Dollarhide, and he wasn’t about to be humiliated by a petty criminal.
The portly, graying deputy heard his story. “Did you see anybody?” he asked.
“No. And I didn’t hear anybody, either. But I had the feeling someone was watching me.
Whoever it was, I figure they must’ve been hiding in the bushes next to that big pothole, waiting for an accident to happen.
When they grabbed my briefcase, they struck gold.
The checks might not do them any good, but there was almost eight hundred dollars cash in that briefcase. ”
“We’ll want a description of the briefcase and everything in it. If you’re lucky, it’ll show up in some alley with the checks still inside. But don’t bet on it. We’re dealing with a clever thief, most likely a professional.”
“Keep me informed.” Joseph stood up to leave. “The sneaky sonofabitch is going to find out he picked the wrong man to rob.”
Without taking time to clean up, Joseph went to the bank next.
No one questioned his appearance. The Dollarhides were important customers.
Closeted with the manager, he recounted what had happened and warned him to be on the lookout for the checks.
They weren’t endorsed, thank goodness, but there was still a chance the thief might forge the signature and try to cash them.
Outside the bank, in the shade of the awning, he debated what to do next. He’d planned to deliver the bid for a second new warehouse, but the document he’d prepared was in the stolen briefcase. And the paperwork he needed to draw up a new one was back at the ranch.
The day was blistering hot, and his muscles were beginning to stiffen.
He felt like a fugitive from a chain gang and probably smelled like one, too.
He could always check into the Olive Hotel, order a change of clothes from the nearby haberdashery, and enjoy a cleansing shower and a meal in the dining room before spending the night in town.
Or he could just write off the day and go home. One thing he mustn’t do was wait around doing nothing. His thoughts were too apt to stray onto forbidden paths, to a violet-eyed woman and the green-eyed boy he could never claim.
He’d be better off pondering what to do about the stolen money and how he was going to handle the problem with his father.
He would check on the auto. If it was fit to drive, he would leave town at once.
If it needed more extensive repairs than he’d hoped, he would get a hotel room, clean up, and make an evening of it.
There was a new Buster Keaton picture playing at the cinema.
He could go after dinner and give himself a rare treat.
Keeping an eye out for a thief with his briefcase, he walked back to the mechanic’s shop. The Ford was ready to go. “We checked her over, cleaned out the wheel, tightened a few bolts, and shined her up pretty,” the owner said. “She’s as good as new.”
Joseph thanked the man, paid him an extra tip from the money in his wallet, and took the vehicle.
He was on the road out of town when a rumbling sensation in the pit of his stomach reminded him that his only meal of the day had been hastily gulped morning coffee.
He was running on empty, and home was more than an hour away.
Lunch at the hotel would take time and also be bad for appearances. But the snack bar at the railroad station sold sandwiches and sodas. That should be enough to slake his hunger for the drive back to the ranch.
As he parked behind the station house and climbed out of the car, a shrill whistle blasted the air. Bell clanging, rods pumping, and steam hissing from the wheels, the Northern Pacific train rolled up to the platform.
The sight and sound of the train stirred a vague yearning in Joseph.
How would it feel to leave his old life, climb aboard, and ride as far as it would carry him—across the prairie to the big eastern cities, all the way to the ocean, where anything, anyplace, was possible?
He had grown up reading books about travel and adventure—Africa, India, China, and so many other exotic places he would never see.
Unless another war called him away, he would live out his life here, in this remote corner of Montana, bound by family duty to his father, the ranch, and that accursed sawmill.
And when he married, any sons he had would likely do the same. He thought about Chase Calder, who was also bound by tradition. All the Calder land and money in the world couldn’t buy his freedom. But maybe Chase didn’t care. Maybe the life he had was the only life he wanted.
The train wouldn’t be here for long. Most of the passengers and cargo were bound for points east. A middle-aged couple waited on the platform with their luggage.
Before boarding the passenger car, they stepped aside to let a slender young woman make her way down the steps.
Two husky workers were picking up a bag of mail and unloading a large, leather-bound trunk from the baggage car.
Minutes later, with a call of “All aboard” and a blast of the whistle, the steam-driven wheels began to churn.
The train pulled away from the platform, picked up speed, and vanished down the track, leaving two people alone on the platform—Joseph and the young woman.
Hunger forgotten, he studied her with furtive glances. She was dark haired, fair skinned, and strikingly pretty. Her navy blue traveling suit and prim straw bonnet spoke of modest means but refined taste.
Every inch a lady . The timeworn phrase rose in Joseph’s mind as he watched her from a discreet distance.
She glanced around uncertainly, as if looking for help.
Her gaze found Joseph, then shifted away, as if dismissing him on sight.
He could hardly blame her. He looked like a tramp—hardly someone a lady should trust.
As minutes passed and no one else showed up, she grew visibly impatient, pacing as she gazed up and down the platform. At last, squaring her shoulders, she walked directly to where Joseph stood. In her hand, she held a dollar bill.
“Excuse me, sir,” she said, extending the bill. “I’m in need of a taxi to take me and my trunk to Blue Moon. If you’ll find me one, this money is yours.”
“Keep your money,” Joseph said. “I have a car and I’ll be going to Blue Moon. You’re welcome to ride with me.”
She hesitated, eyeing him as if he were a slice of spoiled meat. “I really don’t think—”
“I understand.” Joseph brushed a dirt smudge off his sleeve. “My apologies for the way I look. I had to deal with an emergency on the road. My car’s around back. Joseph Dollarhide’s the name. My family has a ranch outside Blue Moon. The station attendant will vouch for me.”
She glanced toward the station house, as if she planned to go inside and ask. But then she shrugged. “All right, Mr. Dollarhide, if you’re sure my trunk will fit in your car.”
“We’ll make it fit.” Joseph fetched a cart from a line outside the station house and loaded the heavy trunk on it. “Follow me, Miss—”
“It’s Miss Rutledge. Francine Rutledge. I’ve been hired as the new schoolteacher in Blue Moon.”
“Right this way, Miss Rutledge.” As he wheeled the cart around the station house to his car, Joseph felt his spirits rise. Until now, the day had been a long chain of disasters. But maybe his luck was about to change.