by Janet Dailey
But the coal supply was finite. When it ran out, Dy-Corp locked the gates, leaving its workers without jobs and with no prospects for new ones. A mass exodus ensued, once again making the streets and buildings of Blue Moon mostly deserted.
And, again, the town was little more than a wide spot in the highway, anchored on one side by a combination gas station, grocery store, and post office called Fedderson’s. On the other side stood a two-story structure that had gone by various names: Jake’s Roadhouse, Sally’s Café, and most recently, Harry’s Hideaway.
Already the building had been stripped of the sign that had spelled out its former name in gaudy green neon. Workers crawled around on its roof, laying new shingles, while more scraped at the chipped and cracked paint on its siding.
Another crew was busy inside. Only one man stood idle, but his sharp eyes were alert for any hint of slacking by the others. Standing an inch under six feet, he wore a white T-shirt that revealed his bulging biceps and the insignia of the Marine Corps tattooed on the left one. His brown hair sported a butch cut that allowed its few strands of gray to merge with the white of his scalp. With his military-correct posture and stern-jawed features, Gordon Donovan looked every inch exactly what he was—a former Marine Corps sergeant who knew how to follow orders as well as give them.
This was the new owner of the restaurant and bar.
The door to the rear office opened, and a bleached blonde in high heels and shorts lolled against its frame, jaw working as she cracked the gum in her mouth. “Hey, Donovan,” she called in a loud and bored voice. “You’re wanted on the phone. It’s long-distance.”
Jaw ridged in anger, he crossed the intervening space with long strides. When she turned sideways to let him pass, he seized her wrist and gave it a savage twist, indifferent to the fear that leaped into her eyes.
“You stupid slut,” he growled the words, his voice pitched low, intended for her hearing only. “I never told you to answer the damned phone. I said to call me if it rang.”
“I’m sorry.” The apology was barely more than a scared whimper.
He pushed his face close. “Don’t ever touch my private line again, or your ass is grass. You got that, sweetie.” Lips curling, he gave her wrist an extra twist, drawing a tiny outcry from her and a quick nod. “I can’t hear you.” Threat was in his low taunt.
“Yes sir.” Pain trembled through her voice. “I’ll never do it again. I swear.”
“Damn right you won’t. Now get.” He jerked her out of the doorway and sent her stumbling into the now-vacant bar area. “And don’t go strutting around the workers. Not till payday.”
Staring after her, Donovan waited until he saw her start for the stairwell door that led to the rooms on the second floor. After a quick visual check of the workers, he stepped inside the small office, closed the door, and locked it. Only then did he cross to the desk and pick up the receiver lying atop its precisely organized surface.
“This is Donovan,” he said, crisp-voiced, and lowered his muscled frame into the desk’s companion chair.
“Who was that woman who answered?” Rutledge’s familiar voice was on the other end of the line, just as he had anticipated.
“Sorry, sir. It was one of the girls. I’ve already made sure it won’t happen again.” He offered no excuse, aware that none were acceptable.
“See that it doesn’t,” came the terse reply. “What progress have you made?”
“About all I can, until I get this place open and have some traffic through here. There isn’t much to learn from the people here in Blue Moon. Like I told you, it’s one step away from being a ghost town.”
“How soon before you open?” There was an underlying tone of irritation at the delay.
“It’ll be another week at least.” Donovan ran a disparaging glance over the dingy office. “You bought yourself a pigsty.”
“I didn’t buy anything. You did.”
“Right.” Donovan nodded and muttered under his breath, “Lucky me.” Louder, he said, “The last of the new kitchen equipment is being installed as we speak, and the electrician is finishing up all the wiring for the machines. They’re due here on Monday. The new menus are all set, and the food’s scheduled to be delivered next week. I’m pushing to have a big blowout of a grand opening the weekend after next, complete with invitations sent to everyone within a hundred miles. I think I can count on the Calders being here.”
“Good. I need all the information you can get me. No matter how meaningless it sounds to you, pass it on. I’ll judge what’s worthless and what isn’t.”
“You’ll know everything I do,” Donovan assured him. “Which reminds me—I don’t know if you’re in the market for a ranch, but according to the gal that runs the gas station across the road, the Kaufman spread might be coming on the market.”
“I don’t think I am, but send me the information on it anyway. What else have you heard?”
“Nothing about the Calders, except that the lack of rain is hurting them just like it is all the ranchers in the area. For the most part, all the locals want to talk about is the good ole days when the pit mine was up and running, and the town was really hopping. If you want stories about that, I’ve got plenty of them.”
“That was Dyson’s operation,” Rutledge mused, giving Donovan the impression he was talking to himself.
“That’s right. His daughter Tara was once married to old man Calder’s son. There are all kinds of stories about her and how extravagant she is. Nobody around here likes anything about her, other than her money. According to them, she treats it like sand in a desert. Right now she’s footing the bill to redecorate some rooms at the main house as a wedding present for the Calder newlyweds. The price is going to be steep, I hear. But it sure made it easy for me to import all my workers without offending the locals.”
“Has there been any talk about the mine reopening?”
“Just some wishful thinking. But it isn’t something people around here would know, with the exception of Dyson’s daughter.”
“I doubt even she would know. Not that it matters. That coal operation won’t be of any use to me anyway.”
“It’s your call,” Donovan agreed readily. “My job is to get you information.”
“Then get that place open and get me some. The Calders aren’t invulnerable; nobody is. There’s a way to get to them. Find it.”
“Yes sir.” But the line had already gone dead.
Spurs and cowboy hat in hand, Jessy closed the bedroom door behind her and headed to the staircase. The only sound to be heard was the hollow echo of her own footsteps. Silence had become so alien these last few weeks that Jessy couldn’t fail to notice it. Automatically she glanced at the open door to the master suite.
A mix of curiosity and memories pulled her to the opening. She paused in the doorway, a hand on the jamb, and looked around the sitting room, not so much noting its new wall color or its sparcity of furniture, as remembering her own time in it.
Before the past could take hold on Jessy, Sloan came out of the adjoining bedroom, armed with rags and glass cleaner, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She came to an abrupt halt.
“Jessy,” she said in surprise. “I thought you left over an hour ago.”
“I forgot my hat, which shows I haven’t spent much time outside lately.” Again Jessy let her glance drift over the room. “It’s close to being done.”
“Finally.” The ghost of remembered frustrations was in the sigh that followed Sloan’s emphatic statement. “Now we’re just waiting for the rugs and the rest of the furniture to arrive. Then it will be just a matter of dressing the rooms with pictures and things, and we can move back in.”
Currently an overstuffed sofa with a side table and an old walnut rocker were the only articles of furniture in the room. But it was the old rocker that caught Jessy’s eye.
“I see you still have that old chair in here,” she remarked.
Sloan nodded. “It has good lines, and it’s m
uch more comfortable than it looks.”
“I know.” Jessy wandered over to it and absently touched the back of it to start its rocking motion. “After the twins were born, we turned the sitting room into a nursery. I spent many an hour rocking one or the other of them in this chair.”
“I didn’t know that,” Sloan admitted with some surprise. Yet she couldn’t help noticing that far-off look in Jessy’s eyes that suggested she was remembering when she had occupied the master suite with her late husband. A little uneasy, she asked, “Does it bother you? All the changes we’ve made in here, I mean.”
“No. It was time.” The statement was made with a calm certainty that showed Jessy was completely comfortable with the situation. An easy smile curved her wide lips. “By the way, Nancy Taylor showed me the pictures you took of her family. She couldn’t stop talking about what a great job you did. Deservedly so.”
“Thank you. I thought they turned out well.” Sloan was always more critical of her work than others were, but she did think the pictures had turned out well. “They may have opened the floodgates, though. Nancy must have shown them to nearly everyone on the ranch. Now they all want me to take pictures of their families. I guess it’s a good thing Laredo set up that temporary darkroom in the basement for me.”
Jessy laughed softly in understanding. “You’d better cross your fingers that Nancy doesn’t take them into Blue Moon on Saturday night, or you’ll be getting phone calls from everyone in the area. From what I hear, they’re all going to the grand opening of Harry’s old place.”
“Yes. Trey told me we were invited.” Sloan wasn’t exactly enthused about the idea, aware that it was likely to be crowded and noisy, neither of which conditions appealed to her.
“A night out will do us all good.” The words were barely out of Jessy’s mouth when a horn honked outside. “That must be Laredo. He said he’d pick me up. See you later.”
In place of the tall neon letters that had once identified the place as Harry’s Hideaway, lights shone on a painted sign that proclaimed the new name, THE OASIS. In smaller letters were the words “Bar and Grill.” Brightly colored pennants were strung along the covered porch, and the parking lot was packed with cars and pickups of every shape and size.
Chase leaned on his cane and surveyed the changes to the building. “Looks like this new owner spent his money where it matters—on a new roof and a fresh coat of paint.” He arched a questioning glance at Cat. “What did you say this fellow’s name was again?”
“Gordon Donovan,” she repeated patiently.
“Donovan,” he murmured to himself, then asked, “Do we know where he’s from?”
It was Laredo who answered him. “From somewhere in Wyoming, I heard.”
Chase was too wise to accept rumor. “I guess we’ll find out soon enough. At least it doesn’t look like he has any ideas in his head that this place is more than a local watering hole.”
Behind him, Trey leaned close to Sloan to add quietly, “From the sounds of it, there are a lot of thirsty people in there tonight.” The steady hum of voices and muffled music that emanated from the building offered its own brand of proof.
“I just hope there’s a place for us to sit,” Sloan offered in response.
“Don’t worry about that,” Cat assured her. “I called to have a table reserved for us.”
“Then let’s don’t be standing around out here,” Laredo declared and gave Chase a joshing prod. “Get the lead out of that cane and let’s get going.”
Chase cut him a look. “We’ll see how fast you move when you’re my age,” he declared and started forward.
With Chase leading the way, they trooped inside and were immediately surrounded by the seemingly nonstop chatter of voices interspersed with laughter and the distinctive dinging of slot machines.
The interior lights had been turned low, creating an abundance of shadowy spaces, not only in the bar but in the eating area as well. It was the first change that Chase noticed on the inside.
Bells went off somewhere to his right, and a cowboy hooted at his luck. The sudden flurry of excitement drew Chase’s glance to the slot machines that lined one whole wall.
“Looks like he got rid of the pool table,” he remarked to Laredo, then used his cane to gesture at the long bar, its dark wood polished to a high shine. “But he kept the old bar. There’s been many a cowboy who rested his boot on that brass foot rail.”
“I imagine so.” But Laredo never bothered to glance at the old bar. He was too busy studying the trimly muscled man who approached them, clutching a sheaf of menus. “I think the boss is coming,” he murmured to Chase and faded back a step to observe.
The man came to a halt in front of Chase, his feet coming together in military precision. “Welcome to The Oasis, Mr. Calder.” His mouth curved in a polite smile. “The name’s Donovan. Glad you could come tonight.”
Slightly startled, Chase frowned in suspicion. “How did you know who I am? Have we met before?”
“No sir. But your picture has been in the newspapers. That made it easy for me to recognize you.”
“I guess it would,” Chase mumbled, annoyed that he hadn’t considered that. To cover what he regarded as a slip, he reached out to Cat. “This is my daughter, Cat Echohawk.”
Cat extended a hand in greeting. “Welcome to Blue Moon, Mr. Donovan.”
His gaze sharpened on her as he briefly gripped her hand. “You’re the one who called to make reservations. I recognize your voice.”
“That was me,” she confirmed with an easy smile. “I knew you would be packed tonight, and I wanted to be sure we’d have a table.”
“I have one waiting for you,” he assured her.
But Chase hadn’t finished the introductions. “This is my daughter-in-law, Jessy Calder. She heads up the Triple C for me.”
“Ma’am.” Donovan acknowledged her with a respectful nod that Jessy returned.
“My grandson, Trey Calder, and his bride, Sloan.”
Donovan’s smile widened a bit. “You must be the newlyweds I’ve heard about. Congratulations, a little after the fact.”
Trey shook the man’s hand and left it at that while Sloan smiled and offered a warm, “Thank you.”
Only Laredo remained, and Donovan’s attention shifted expectantly to him. But it was the searching probe of the man’s gaze, trying to size him up, that prompted Laredo to step forward without waiting for Chase.
“The name’s Laredo Smith. I work for the Calders.” He stuck out a hand, his smile all friendly and lazy.
Donovan briefly gripped his band. “From Texas, are you?”
“Nope. That’s just what they call me. But people always figure the same thing you did.” Laredo never lost his smile. “How about you? Where do you hail from?”
“You name it and I’ve probably been there, though I grew up in Wyoming.”
“Then you enlisted. Am I right?” Laredo grinned with certainty while maintaining a nosy, folksy air.
“Yes sir. U.S. Marine Corps, and proud of it,” Donovan stated. “What gave me away?”
Laredo could have named any number of things, from the buzz haircut to his ramrod-straight posture. “Those knife-sharp creases in your pants. We don’t see much of that around here except when one of our boys is home on leave.”
“Old habits are hard to break, I guess,” Donovan admitted without apology.
“So, how’d an ex-Marine end up in Blue Moon?” Laredo asked, and added quickly, “Don’t get me wrong, now. We’re glad to have you here. It’s just that we’re miles from anywhere.”
Donovan never blinked an eye at the question. “For me, that was a selling point. I liked the elbow room and lack of competition. Naturally, the price was right, too.”
“You sure have spruced the place up,” Laredo declared. “Even added a little excitement with the slot machines.”
As before, the new owner had an answer at the ready. “I don’t want people to have a reason to drive somewhere el
se.”
“Makes sense,” Laredo acknowledged.
Chase spoke up. “I see you took out the pool table. The boys are going to miss it.”
“It’s only temporary,” Donovan assured him. “I plan on turning that back-office area into a separate pool room.” The door opened and another couple walked in. Seeing the new arrivals, Donovan made a ninety-degree pivot. “Your table is right over here, Mr. Calder.”
With his square-shouldered shape leading the way, Jessy no longer had to contain her curiosity at Laredo’s strange behavior. She couldn’t recall a single time in the past when he had drawn attention to himself that way or been so chatty with someone he didn’t know. He had always kept in the background, content to watch and listen—until tonight.
“What was that all about?” She kept her voice low and slid him a puzzled look.
“He was trying to put a label on me, so I tried to make sure he tagged me with the wrong one.”
His reply raised more questions than it answered, but they had arrived at the table, and Jessy had to put her curiosity on hold while they took a seat. She was quick to use the brief confusion to make a visual reassessment of the new owner, trying to figure out why Laredo hadn’t taken the man at face value.
Donovan distributed the menus. “We don’t have a large selection, but you’ll find everything on the menu is good. If you have any questions, Mary Ann will be your server. Enjoy,” he said with an all-inclusive nod and moved away.
Chase opened the menu, then drew his head back with a frown. “Print’s awful small.” Reluctantly, he took out his glasses case and slipped on his magnifiers. “That’s better.”
“I don’t know why you’re even bothering to look. You know you’re going to order a steak,” Cat chided.
“I just wanted to see what he’s got. Might be something new,” Chase said defensively.
“One thing that’s new is his help,” Trey remarked. “Looks like most of them aren’t from around here.”
