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“Let’s concentrate on getting you better,” the doctor said in an almost absent response to the hoarse demand as he snapped impatiently at the nurse filling a hypo needle. His glance flicked across the bed at Ty, irritation showing. “I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
“No.” It was a flatly voiced refusal, and the doctor chose not to argue. Ty bent closer to the man in the bed. “Dad? It’s me, Ty.” His voice was level, all emotion pulled out of it. "You’ve got to do what they tell you.”
The brown eyes that were turned on him were the same as his father’s, hard and piercing when they wanted to be. And they were now, despite the glaze of pain.
“Ty, they won’t tell me. Your mother ... is she alive?” Desperation clawed at the edges of his weak and gravelly voice.
There was a long moment before Ty could push out an answer, his throat gripped too tightly by emotion. Finally he looked away to say thickly, “I think you already know the answer to that, Dad.”
“Yes.” The word was long and slow in coming, so soft Ty almost couldn’t hear it. A wet shimmer covered his father’s brown eyes before he closed them to hide that gathering of tears.
“Mr. Calder”—one of the nurses firmly but politely nudged Ty out of the way—“we’re going to have to put this tube down your throat. It’s going to be very uncomfortable, but it will be easier if you don’t fight us.”
There was no resistance left in him as his father mutely gave himself up to their ministrations. “You’d better leave,” the second nurse suggested to Ty and blocked him away from the bed. “There’s really nothing you can do here. Take your family somewhere and try to get some rest. Just leave word where you can be reached and we’ll contact you if there is the slightest change in his condition.”
It was sound advice, although it wasn’t easy to convince his sister of that. She wanted to stay at the hospital so she could be close to her father. In the end, Ty relented when Tara agreed to stay with her. But he couldn’t allow himself the luxury of such a gesture. Too many other things required his time and attention. He had seen first to the living; now it was time to make arrangements for the dead and put into motion the adjustments necessary for the continuation of the ranch’s operation.
A place to stay had already been arranged. Dyson kept an apartment in Helena for his occasional use, and Tara also had a key. She gave it to him.
“I don’t understand him,” Cat murmured tautly as she watched her brother stride away from the waiting room. “How can he leave when our father might be in there dying?”
Personally, Tara was heartened by the control he exhibited over his emotions. It seemed to make a mockery of Jessy’s claim that he had needed her.
“I don’t think you’re considering the number of responsibilities that have fallen to him now. He has to act as the head of the family as well as take full charge of the ranch.” It was the realization of a dream for Tara, and there was a streak of guilt that she found a cause for rejoicing in this tragedy. “There are many arrangements he has to make.”
“You mean ... for my mother, don’t you?” Cat said in a small, grief-tormented voice; then agitation lifted it. “It isn’t fair,” she protested in a stormy outcry. “She had no right to die! Not like this—with no warning! How could she have done this to us?”
No logic could combat those words of bitter rebellion against rate. Pain-charged emotions were being released through anger, so Tara simply let the girl rant on until the tears came. Then she held Cathleen in her arms and let her cry to the point of hiccoughing exhaustion.
On the way to the apartment, Ty stopped at the local mortuary where his mother had been taken and made arrangements for her body to be sent home for burial in the family plot. After that, there was a long list of phone calls he had to make. He started by tracking down which hotel Phil Silverton, the attorney who handled all the Calder interests, was staying in.
“How is your rather, Ty?” the man asked after Ty had reached him by phone. “The hospital wouldn’t give me much information.”
“Not good,” Ty admitted, still struggling himself to race the reality of that. “I spoke to him briefly, but—The doctor is unwilling even to say what his chances are.”
“What do you want me to do about this meeting with Hines from the Interior Department? Naturally, when we heard about the plane crash, everything was put on hold. However, I know he’s still in town.”
“I’ll meet with him,” Ty said. “See if you can schedule something for tomorrow morning.”
“Right.” It was an affirmative answer, followed by a short pause. “I haven’t heard any official word about the cause of the accident. An eyewitness thought the plane had engine trouble. Was your father able to tell you anything?”
“No. I didn’t ask.” The cause had been the least of his concerns. He was still trying to deal with the aftermath of it
“Ty—I hate to bring this up, but. . . some decisions have to be made. From what you’ve told me, your rather is going to be out of commission for a long time, even if he survives. You are going to have to be empowered to act as head of the company. There are two choices. If the doctor can certify that your rather is aware of his actions, we can have him sign a document turning control of the company over to you. Or we can petition the courts and have you appointed to manage his interests. The first is the best way if it can be done.”
“We’ll talk to Dr. Haslind about it in the morning..” Ty understoo
d the necessity for it. In all but fact he had taken over, but making it legal sounded so final.
“I’ll draft a document tonight.”
After he had concluded his business with the attorney, Ty phoned Dyson at his home in Fort Worth. Despite business conflicts, Dyson was Tara’s father, therefore a member of the family and entitled to be notified of the accident. Ty gave him what details he knew, embellishing none of them.
“If there is anything I can do in the meantime for you, please call,” Dyson said in parting and hung up the phone, sobered by the news.
“What is it?” Stricklin removed his wire glasses and sat back in his chair to study his solemn-faced partner.
“Calder’s plane crashed yesterday.” Dyson rose from the desk and crossed the room to pour himself a drink. “His wife was killed.”
