by Janet Dailey
She smiled pleasantly when Echohawk introduced himself. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She gave his hand a firm shake. “Although I have been expecting you.”
“Really?” He managed to inject a request for an explanation in his single-word response.
“Not you in particular, but—after Laredo told me about finding the body, I expected someone in authority would come to find out what I might have seen or heard,” Hattie explained.
“And what was that, Mrs. Smith?”
“Not much, I’m afraid. I do remember hearing a vehicle on the road sometime yesterday. It did stop for a while, then start up again and drive away. It didn’t seem all that unusual at the time,” she told him. “I assumed it was one of the ranch hands fixing fence or checking on livestock.”
“What kind of vehicle was it?”
She shook her head. “I don’t have any idea. I wasn’t curious enough to look. And, as you can tell, the view of the road from here is somewhat limited.”
“Yes, I noticed. Do you remember hearing anything else?”
“Like what?”
Laredo supplied the answer. “I think he wants to know if you heard a gunshot.”
Hattie released a laughing breath of denial. “Definitely not. I would have mentioned that first thing. It isn’t something as common as hearing a truck on the road.”
“Do you keep any weapons here?”
She darted a quick glance at Laredo. “We have a .30/.30 Winchester.”
“Would you mind showing it to me?” Echohawk watched her closely.
“Not at all. I’ll get it for you.”
When she turned toward the cabin, a voice came from inside. “Ask Logan to come in, Hattie.”
Logan’s reaction to the discovery of a third person was small but significant—a sudden tensing of muscle and a quick movement of his right hand to the holstered weapon at his waist. But it was the flicker of confusion and doubt in his expression that brought a slight curve to Laredo’s mouth.
“I guess we sprang a little surprise on you, didn’t we? Then again, maybe it isn’t so little,” Laredo said and moved past him toward the door.
“Please come in, Sheriff.” Hattie paused in the doorway, holding the screen door open for him.
“No. Tell whoever your friend is to come out.” Logan shifted a little closer to the cabin wall, ready to seek its protection and make himself a less easy target.
Slipping past Hattie, Laredo went inside, his gaze sliding to Chase. “I told you he was a careful man.”
Chase took Hattie’s place in the opening, making himself fully visible without setting foot outside. “I can’t do that, Logan. It’s better if I’m not seen here.”
“Chase?” Logan still questioned what he was seeing. “You’re alive?”
“Yes, and I plan on staying that way awhile longer. Come in.” Chase moved away from the door.
Logan followed him into the line shack. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, anger showing at the way he and everyone had been tricked, both then and now. “Why did you let us all believe you were dead?”
“At the time it suited my purpose.” Chase crossed to the table and pulled out a chair.
“I always knew you were a hard man, Calder, but I don’t think you realize what you put your daughter and grandchildren through, not to mention—” Logan stopped, eyes narrowing. “Jessy knows you’re alive, doesn’t she.” It was a statement, not a question. “All the times Culley saw her slipping up here, it was to see you.”
“She knows,” Chase confirmed. “But she is the only one who knows outside of those here in this cabin.”
“Why?” His gray glance flicked to the red welt that reached into the hairline above Chase’s temple. “And what happened to your head?”
“You might as well sit down. This could take a few minutes.” Chase gestured to one of the other chairs and sat down. “Hattie, will you pour some coffee for us?”
Keeping to the facts, Chase told Logan as much as he knew about the attempt on his life and its aftermath. On occasions, he deferred to Laredo, letting him fill in any blanks he could. Logan listened without interruption until he was finished.
“I have trouble believing Markham is behind this.” Logan continued to mull that one over. “There are a few circumstances that appear to point in his direction, but you haven’t built any case against him— or given me a good reason to pin my suspicions on him.”
“I remember something, but . . . I can’t quite remember what it is.” The frustration of that slipped into Chase’s voice, giving an edge to it.
“So, why did you decide to make yourself known now?” Logan lifted his coffee cup.
“O’Rourke’s murder.”
Logan nodded in understanding. “As close as the body was found, it was only a matter of time before you would be discovered.”
Laredo disagreed. “If Chase didn’t want you to know he was here, it would have taken dogs to find him.”
“Laredo’s right,” Chase confirmed. “My decision to come forward has nothing to do with fear of discovery. O’Rourke’s death changed things because I’m certain Markham killed him.”
“Now you really are reaching, Chase,” Logan said with a mildly amused shake of his head. “Markham had even less reason to kill O’Rourke than he did you.”
Chase replied with a question of his own. “What can you tell me about the note that came up missing? The one Jessy gave to Cat. I understand that Tara is convinced that Jessy took it.”
“You think Markham is behind that,” Logan guessed.
“Why not?” Chase countered. “He wouldn’t have known what was written on it. For all Markham knew, it could have been something that would have pointed to him.”
Logan thoughtfully rubbed a hand across his mouth, then glanced at Chase, a stony hardness in his gray eyes. “You may have just convinced me, Chase. I remember now that after the note came up missing, Culley made a point to remind Cat that he had seen Markham poking around the desk.”
“And Markham mentioned to Jessy that he had seen O’Rourke at Fedderson’s the other morning. My guess is that’s when Culley accused Markham of taking it—and ultimately sealed his fate,” Chase stated. “I don’t know when or where Markham did the killing, but I think he probably dumped the body around here in an attempt to throw suspicion on Laredo, especially if he had somehow learned that you were checking on him.”
“And finding some answers, too.” Logan pushed his cup away, glancing up when Hattie breathed in sharply. “Just what do you know about him, Chase?”
“I know he saved my life. And if you are referring to that business in Mexico, that happened a good many years ago,” Chase replied. “I’m not going to tell you to ignore it. Neither one of us would have much respect for the other if I did. But I am going to ask that you forget it for a while. Whatever else you might say against him, Laredo is the kind of man you want watching your back when things get hot. And they will get hot very soon. That note has Markham running scared right now, but it’s a smart scared. Laredo and I agree that he has probably picked out his next target. But we don’t know if it’s Jessy or Cat.”
“Now I get it.” Logan nodded. “That’s why you decided to come back from the dead—to make Markham readjust his sights. You plan on becoming a decoy.”
“It’s the quickest way that I know to flush him out,” Chase stated. “O’Rourke’s death made me realize that I don’t have the luxury of waiting until I completely recover my memory.”
Logan turned to Laredo. “So why didn’t you tell me any of this on the way here? You could have saved us both a lot of time.”
Laredo nodded toward Chase. “It was his play to make. Not mine. I just follow orders. He said to bring you here alone, and that’s what I did.”
In order to do that, Logan realized that Laredo had made himself a suspect in O’Rourke’s death. It spoke loudly of the loyalty and trust Laredo had in Chase. And it had Logan looking at him with a new respe
ct.
He brought his attention back to Chase. “So what’s your next move?”
“You are going to help me stage my return to the Triple C,” Chase replied calmly. “No one else must know that I’ve been staying here at the Boar’s Nest, and that includes Cat. We can’t afford to have anyone think that Laredo was a part of this. Will you do it?”
“Count me in,” Logan agreed without hesitation.
Laredo spoke up, “I hope that means you won’t object if I start carrying again.”
Logan’s pause was a deliberate one. “I didn’t hear you say that.”
Laredo’s smile was slow and lazy. “Thanks.”
“So, when do you want to return, Chase?”
“The sooner the better,” he replied. “Later on today you can tell Cat that I called you and that I will be flying into Miles City tomorrow. Explain as much of the truth as she needs to know—that I was mugged, suffered from amnesia, and finally remembered who I was. Laredo can drop me off at the airport in the morning, and I’ll wait there until you come to pick me up.”
“Sounds simple enough.” Logan nodded. After a pause, he added, “Although, to be honest, Chase, it’s not clear in my mind why I’m sitting here now. You don’t really need my help to stage your return. You could have done it on your own and kept me in the dark.”
“I considered it,” Chase admitted. “But you wouldn’t have known there was a possibility Cat was in danger. That wasn’t a risk I was willing to take.”
“I should have guessed,” Logan murmured.
“Laredo will call you sometime late this afternoon. The two of you can decide what time would be best. That will be the alleged call from me. Whatever you do, don’t keep the call a secret. The sooner Markham gets word that I am still alive, the less likely he’ll be to look at anyone else until he deals with me.”
Chapter Eighteen
All over the Triple C there was a kind of electricity in the air. The range telegraph buzzed with it. People everywhere seemed to walk with a lighter step. The name that had rarely been mentioned since the day of his premature burial was on everyone’s lips.
Chase Calder was alive.
Rumor and fact spread from one end of the ranch to the other. And no one seemed to care if one masqueraded as the other. They welcomed any excuse to call someone else and pass on the latest.
By midmorning Jessy had fielded dozens of calls. Regardless of their initial content, each ended with the same question: when would Chase arrive? All were frustrated by her inability to be more specific than somewhere around noon or one o’clock.
Even her own mother found it hard to believe she couldn’t be more exact. Judy Niles had arrived at The Homestead shortly before nine o’clock in the morning, ostensibly to give the house a thorough cleaning so everything would be neat and tidy when Chase arrived. She spent almost as much time chattering at Jessy as she did cleaning.
Finding it difficult to maintain the pretext that she knew little more about Chase than anyone else, Jessy left her mother to answer the phone while she made her escape from the house. With no particular destination, Jessy struck out toward the corrals.
She was halfway across the ranch yard when she recognized Laredo’s pickup coming down the lane. She stopped and waited for him to arrive. He pulled up alongside her, an arm draped over the open driver’s side window.
“Good morning.” His smile was warm and faintly intimate.
“Good morning.” Jessy stepped closer and casually laid a hand on the pickup’s sun-warmed metal skin. “Did you drop him off at the airport?” she asked, referring to Chase.
“Delivered him safe and sound,” Laredo confirmed.
“The telephone hasn’t stopped ringing all morning. Did you know that Chase has been in a coma until a few days ago?” she asked, passing on one of the many rumors making the circuit.
“I didn’t know that.” Laredo grinned.
“Somebody else told me that they had heard he had been in Mexico all this time.”
“Amazing. What about Markham? Has he called?”
“No. It makes me wonder if he’s heard.”
“He has. You can bet on it.”
The mere mention of his name altered the tenor of their conversation, adding a tension to it. “Cat called before they left for the airport,” Jessy said. “O’Rourke’s funeral is set for eleven o’clock Saturday morning. Graveside services will be held at the old cemetery.”
For the most part, Culley’s death had become lost in the excitement of Chase’s imminent return. When anyone bothered to remember it, it was usually in connection with Cat, invariably framed in a remark that noted the irony of losing her uncle on the same day she found out her father was alive. Not even the fact that O’Rourke had died of a gunshot wound seemed to arouse much interest. Most people seemed willing to believe someone had been shooting at a coyote or prairie dog and the bullet went astray—one of those tragic freak accidents. Considering the way O’Rourke ghosted over the countryside, they doubted that the shooter had known anyone was in the area.
“I hear there is a big barbecue planned for Sunday to welcome Chase back,” Laredo remarked.
Jessy nodded. “My mom told me about it. There seemed to be a groundswell to do something to mark the occasion.” She paused, her thoughts turning to another concern that was never far from her mind. “I still think Chase should have laid low awhile longer. I know Culley’s death made that difficult. Just the same, though, I don’t think it’s wise for him to come forward now.”
“It was his decision. Whether it’s wise or not doesn’t matter anymore. It’s done.” It was a statement that pointed out the futility of second-guessing now.
Jessy understood the reasoning behind the decision—to force Monte to make another attempt at Chase, hopefully panicking him into a rash one. There was always the possibility Monte would wait to see how much of his memory Chase had regained, but somehow Jessy knew that wasn’t likely.
“At least there shouldn’t be any problems at the barbecue. Monte isn’t apt to try anything with so many people around.” She found some relief in that thought.
“Don’t count on it,” Laredo warned. “Markham has to know he will have trouble luring Chase away from the ranch. And there aren’t many places he can lie in wait for Chase around here without running the risk of being seen. The crowd and confusion of a barbecue might just be the kind of setup he wants.”
She felt a chill of foreboding. “You’ll be here at headquarters from now on, won’t you?”
“Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “I plan to stick as close to Chase as his shadow.”
“Where are you headed now?”
“Back up to the Boar’s Nest. If I’m going to be staying around here, Hattie will need the truck. If Markham shows up while I’m gone, let me know his reaction.”
“Will do,” Jessy promised and stepped back from the truck, watching as he drove away.
The highway cut a long gray line through the plains of eastern Montana. The traffic thickened, signaling the nearness of a city. Spotting a signpost ahead, Cat leaned forward in the passenger seat, her expression a mix of anxiety and excitement.
“Seven more miles,” she announced. “Thank heavens. This is the longest drive to Miles City I ever remember making. I wish now we had flown here in the ranch plane.”
“It wouldn’t have been any different. The flight would have seemed twice as long.” Logan took his gaze from the highway long enough to run a glance over Cat. Throughout the trip she had been a bundle of restless energy, rarely still, all edgy nerves with emotions running the gamut.
She turned her face toward the side window for a moment. Swinging back toward him, she asked for at least the tenth time, “Are you absolutely certain it was Dad you talked to?”
“Positive. His voice is unmistakable. The minute I heard it I knew it was Chase even though my mind told me it was impossible,” Logan replied. “It was an eerie moment.”
“But what if i
t’s an imposter? You told me yourself that the man claimed to have amnesia. He could remember some things, but not others. There wasn’t any way he could prove to you he was Chase Calder.”
“We’ll know soon enough whether or not he’s an imposter.” Logan made the turn onto the road that led to the airport. “But I’m positive he’ll turn out to be the genuine article.”
“I hope you are right.” Cat propped an elbow on the window ledge and closed her hand, holding it against her chin. “I’m just afraid to believe it, though.”
Reaching over, Logan covered her hand, aware of the emotional roller coaster she had ridden during the last twenty-four hours, first learning of her uncle’s death, then receiving the stunning news that her father was alive.
From the backseat, Quint asked, “Do you think he will remember us, Dad?”
Logan glanced at his son’s reflection in the rearview mirror, observing the troubled light in his eyes. “I think he will.”
“What time did you say his flight is supposed to land?” Cat focused all her attention on the terminal building. It was a small one by big-city standards.
“In about fifteen minutes,” Logan replied. “I’ll let you two out and go park.”
“Mom, look!” Quint hurriedly unbuckled his seat belt and leaned over the back of the front seat to point. “Isn’t that Grampa?”
Cat stared at the tall, thick-chested man standing close to the building’s entrance, his dark hair shot with silver, a duffel bag sitting at his feet. She breathed in sharply in recognition.
“It’s him, Quint.” The emotion of the moment made her voice small and thin. She fumbled frantically with the clasp of her own seat belt. She barely gave Logan a chance to pull up to the curb before she was out the passenger door and running to greet him. Quint wasn’t far behind her. Logan took his time, content to observe the moment of reunion. The unbridled joy in the faces of his wife and son moved him, but he knew too many things that they didn’t for him to share in it.
