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For a time Trey was fascinated by all the noise and action at the pool table. But his own restless nature made it impossible for anything to hold his interest for long. Within minutes he wanted down. The instant his feet touched the floor, he made a dash for the pool table and the cache of balls that had fallen into the pockets.
“Sorry, guy.” Ty scooped him back up.
As usual, Trey simply looked around for another distraction and settled for the rhythmic gyrations of the people on the dance floor. Several more minutes passed before Ty noticed that Ballard and the brunette were no longer among the spectators at the pool table. Too soon the fast music ended and a slow song took its place, too slow to interest Trey.
Idly Ty ran his glance around the area. There was no sign of Ballard in the immediate vicinity, but he did catch sight of Logan working his way toward the bar area.
He touched Quint’s shoulder. “Here comes your dad. It must be time for us to head back to the table.”
“Okay.” With a barely perceptible sigh of resignation, Quint dragged his gaze from the pool table and moved away from the wall.
Ty shifted Trey to his left hip and followed behind Quint. Near the bar, they hooked up with Logan. The jam of people made for slow going as Logan led the way with Quint sandwiched between the two men.
Their route took them by the small dance floor. Just ahead on Ty’s right a burly mineworker slapped one of his compatriots on his shoulder and pivoted blindly right into Ty’s path. Ty stepped quickly to the side to avoid running into the man and bumped one of the couples on the dance floor.
“Sorry,” he began then found himself staring into Ballard’s face. A quick glance revealed that his partner wasn’t the shapely brunette Ty had seen him with earlier, or Emily Trumbo. This one was a bleached blonde. Ty shot Ballard a look of disgust. “Why can’t you be satisfied with just one woman?”
Ballard’s eyes narrowed briefly. Then a faintly taunting smile curved his mouth. “At least I’m not married like you.”
In the fraction of an instant that it took the words to register, Ty realized that Ballard had seen that innocent kiss between himself and Tara—seen it and put his own construction on it.
Furious, Ty let his fist fly, slamming it against Ballard’s jaw. The force of the impact jarred his whole arm and knocked Ballard sideways into other dancers, where he stumbled, lost his balance, and fell.
One minute Ty was staring at Ballard, propped on one elbow, trying to shake off the effects of the blow; and in the next, Logan blocked his view, stepping between them.
“That’s enough!” He shot Ty a look of sharp warning.
It wasn’t necessary. That momentary fury was gone. Ty loosened the muscles in his shoulders and opened his fist, spreading his fingers wide, all the while conscious of the aura of stillness and expectancy that surrounded him. He felt the stares and heard the low hum of murmuring voices as Ballard got to his feet, rubbing his jaw.
“I’ll give you that one, Calder,” he said in a low but audible voice.
“Are you all right?” Logan asked him.
“Except for a sore jaw, I’m just jim dandy, Sheriff,” Ballard assured him with a return of his slow smile. “But I’m sure going to watch closer for flying objects. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a dance to finish.”
Turning from both of them back to the blonde, Ballard effectively signaled an end to the moment. Immediately the milling and talking began in an eager exchange of information.
Logan glanced sideways at Ty, his gaze curious and measuring. “What was that about?”
“That’s my business.” Brother-in-law or not, Ty wasn’t about to explain.
“I’ll accept that.” Logan continued to study him. “Just make sure that it doesn’t eventually become my business.”
Among the many things Logan had learned about the Calders since moving to Montana, he knew they demanded loyalty from those who worked for them, and they gave it in return. He hadn’t heard the words the two men exchanged, but he had seen enough to know that something Ballard said provoked Ty’s swing. And Ty wasn’t a man to rile easily, or likely to punch one of his employees. So why had he? Logan hated questions without quick answers.
Chapter Twelve
The high and wide Montana sky was a startling blue, lit by a bright morning sun. A twin-engine Beechcraft bearing the Triple C insignia on its door sped down the runway. Buckled in the passenger seat across the aisle from Cat, Jessy gazed out the window at the rolling grassland whipping by.
Unlike Cat, she couldn’t summon any enthusiasm for this shopping trip to Dallas. Logic told her it was necessary, but as far as she was concerned, it was one of life’s unpleasantries that had to be endured.
With the engines roaring at full power, the plane’s nose lifted. A moment later the craft was airborne, the land falling away beneath it. Somewhere around eight hundred feet it began a banking turn to the south.
“I’ve been thinking,” Cat said.
“About what?” Jessy asked when Cat failed to continue.
“We will actually need two outfits. One for the auction, and another for the open house the day before.”
