Calder Storm (18 page)

“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 else.”

“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.”

“Well, somebody needs to tell those girls at the bar that they need a few more clothes.”

Cat's comment drew a throaty chuckle from Trey. “Somehow I don't think that's the idea, Aunt Cat.”

“What are you talking about?” Chase tipped his head down to peer over the top of his half-glasses. His attention instantly centered on a blonde in shorts and a low-cut knit top, balancing a tray laden with beer. “Looks like this place has come full circle.”

“What do you mean?” Sloan turned curious eyes to him.

“When I was a young buck, a fella by the name of Jake Loman had this place,” Chase recalled, leaning back in his chair, a reflective tilt to his head. “And there was always a string of pretty girls on hand, willing to show a fella a good time. For a price, of course. Jake always claimed they were his nieces.”

“Sounds like you're talking from experience, Gramps.” Trey grinned.

“It was common knowledge,” was all that Chase would admit.

Jessy snuck a glance over her shoulder. “Chase you don't really think those girls are—”

Chase interrupted before she could finish her question. “The man did say he didn't want people to have a reason to drive somewhere else, didn't he?”

His dry comment brought a round of laughter. It faded to smiles when the waitress arrived to take their orders. Afterward, a
fellow rancher stopped to say hello to Chase and complain about the lack of rain.

When a discussion of previous dry spells ensued, Laredo gave Jessy's shoulder a light nudge. “Care to dance?”

Her initial look of surprise quickly turned to warm pleasure. “I'd love to.”

“Let's do it.” Laredo stood up and moved to the back of Jessy's chair, pulling it out for her. “We're going to take a spin on the dance floor,” he told the others, then addressed Trey. “Are you two going to join us?”

Trey shook his head. “I don't think so.”

“Trey knows I'm not much for dancing,” Sloan explained.

“That leaves more room on the dance floor for us,” Laredo said as he steered Jessy away from the table.

The dance area at The Oasis was little more than some open floor in front of the jukebox that also served as a divider separating the dining area from the bar. One other couple circled its perimeter when Jessy and Laredo reached it.

With the ease of one accustomed to her partner, Jessy turned into Laredo's arms, one hand coming up to rest on his shoulder while the other fit itself to his palm. The tune was an old-fashioned Texas two-step, simple and not too lively. Feet moving in unison, they made one circuit of the floor, neither speaking.

“So, when are you going to tell me what this is all about?” Jessy asked, amused and curious. “Not that I don't enjoy dancing with you, because I do. But something tells me you asked me out here for a different reason.”

“I was only trying to oblige a pretty lady,” he drawled. “I figured you had more questions for me, and I thought I'd give you a chance to ask them with some privacy.”

“You're right,” Jessy admitted. “Because I still don't understand what all that was about with Donovan.”

“I didn't like the way he was dissecting me.” For all the change in his expression, Laredo could have been talking about the weather.
“But more than that, I couldn't figure out why he would. Why should he care who I am or what I do?”

“He is new here,” Jessy reminded him.

“But ask yourself—why would anybody buy a business in a dried-up town in the middle of nowhere and pour a bunch of money into fixing it up? It's not smart. Did Donovan strike you as being thick between the ears?”

“No.”

“Which brings us right back to the same question—what's he doing in Blue Moon? Elbow room and lack of competition, that's what he said. Somebody wanting to disappear might be more like it, but he seems to be doing his damnedest to attract customers. It could be that he plans on setting up some side business.”

“Like what?”

Laredo steered her around the other couple before answering, “In a way, it has the smell of drugs. That still doesn't explain why he was so interested in me…. Unless…” A possibility occurred to him. “He could have heard that Calder's daughter was married to the local sheriff, without being told that Logan was killed. It would be natural for him to assume that's who I am. No wonder he was checking me out so closely,” Laredo mused, then grinned crookedly. “It's kind'a funny when you think about it—somebody mistaking me for the law.”

Jessy laughed softly in response, relieved that Laredo had no real reason to be suspicious of the man. Just for a moment she had been worried that Chase's constant warnings about Rutledge might be coming true, and Donovan was Rutledge's man. But none of that seemed likely now.

At the bar, Donovan deftly poured a shot of whiskey into a glass while simultaneously adding 7-Up. Through it all, he managed to keep one eye on the couple, circling the dance floor. He couldn't seem to shake the uneasy feeling he had about the sandy-haired cowboy who called himself Laredo Smith.

Some little warning bell had gone off in his head the minute he
saw the man with the Calders. It wasn't so much the way the cowboy had initially stayed in the background as it was the sharp, searching way his gaze had shot through the crowd—that, and the coolness in his eyes when they had finally centered on him. At that moment, Donovan had been ready to swear the man was a bodyguard. Then he had been treated to that good ole cowboy routine, complete with an aw-shucks grin.

Yet he'd seen something in the cowboy's eyes that he recognized right away—a willingness to shoot without hesitation. Maybe the man had done just that in the past. Which made it all the more interesting to Donovan that Laredo Smith was on the Calders' payroll.

A cowboy stepped up to the bar, blocking his view of the dance floor. Hat pushed to the back of his head, exposing a shock of dark red hair that curled onto his forehead, the man said, “Hey, draw me a beer, will ya?”

“Sure thing.” Donovan shoved a beer mug under the tap and pulled the handle.

A bunch of quarters clattered onto the counter. “You're the new owner, aren't you?” the cowboy asked.

“That's right,” Donovan confirmed as he caught a fleeting glimpse of the couple exiting the dance floor.

“For your information, you're paying for this drink, 'cause I just hit a fifty-dollar jackpot over there on your slots.”

“Glad to hear it.” Donovan declared and set the mug in front of him. “I like to keep my machines loose. It brings customers back.”

“I'll remember that.” The cowboy took a swig of beer, then wiped away the foam on his mouth and stuck out his hand. “By the way, my name's Matt Rivers. My dad owns the old Kennesaw spread north of here.”

“Mine's Donovan. Glad to have you.” He stacked some dirty glasses in the under-the-counter washer. “It's going to take me a while, I guess, to get all the names and faces straight and know who's who and who's not.”

“I'll bet it is,” the young cowboy agreed. “Especially when you got a crowd like this.”

“It's been hard.” Donovan was quick to make use of the young cowboy's willingness to talk. “And in a small town, customers expect you to know who they are. Like tonight, the Calders are here having dinner. I recognized the old man from pictures I've seen of him. The same with Jessy Calder. The son and his wife were easy to spot. But there was a cowboy with them—blue eyes, sandy hair, probably older than he looks. I can't figure out where he fits in.”