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“I’m not sure I share your concern,” Chase answered thoughtfully. “By the same token, I’m not willing to risk being wrong. You stay here and keep an eye on things.”
“I appreciate that, Chase.” Ballard smiled his relief then sobered with a new thought. “You do know Ty may not like the idea if he finds out. He doesn’t understand that me and Jessy go back a long ways. I can see why it wouldn’t sit right with him, him bein’ married to her an’ all.”
“I’ll square it with him,” Chase promised. “Is there anything else?”
The question was a subtle prod to leave. “Nope. That just about does it,” Ballard replied and headed for the door, adding as he went, “You can rest easy that nothin’s gonna happen to Jessy. I’ll see to that.”
Try as he might, Chase couldn’t put much stock in Ballard’s suspicions. He doubted that he would be able to as long as Buck was in the picture. It was a prejudice he had, one that could blind him. Which was the reason he had agreed to Ballard’s request.
The sun sat low in the Saturday evening sky, throwing its strong yellow light over the Wolf Meadow range, intensifying the ochre hues in the stone and stucco exterior of the newly constructed house. During his only other visit to the site, Ty had taken little notice of the low and sprawling, single-story house. This time he ran an inspecting eye over it as they approached the thickly graveled area in front of it.
Its roof was steeply pitched to shed winter snow and shingled in a dusty brown color that blended with the face of the butte behind it. The roof line extended far beyond the exterior walls, shading the south-facing windows from the sun’s glare and creating a covered porch along the front, with stone pillars for support.
In the back seat, Sally craned her neck to get a better view of the house. “That’s it, isn’t it?” she murmured, then added with a touch of surprise, “It isn’t quite as grand as I expected. Do you think so, Jessy?”
Jessy was quicker to note how much ground it covered. “It’s bigger than you think. But it could have been worse.”
“She could have built it on top of the mesa.” Dryness rustled through Ty’s voice.
Chase reacted with a harrumph. “Thank God for small favors.”
Approaching the graveled area, Ty slowed the vehicle and swept his gaze over the rest of the site. A helicopter sat in readiness on a concrete pad a goodly distance from both the house and the bluff, sharing the skyline with windmill eleven. Roughly the same distance from the house to the left stood the horse corral.
“Looks like they’re building a stable,” Chase remarked, taking note of the construction in prog
ress near the corral. “Isn’t that a house trailer back there?” With a frown, Chase peered at some sort of structure near the corral.
“Could be.” Catching a movement in the rearview mirror, Ty glanced up to see the reflection of another vehicle behind them. “Here comes Logan and Cat.”
Chase checked his watch. “One minute before seven. That’s as close to being on time as you can get.”
Both vehicles parked on the gravel near the stone walk that led to the house. As Jessy freed Laura from the car seat, Tara emerged from the house to welcome them.
Strictly casual, Tara had said the dress would be. But Tara’s definition of casual had always been slightly different from others. This evening she wore a squaw skirt and matching blouse in a rich wine red. The hem of the skirt skimmed her shins, revealing the fashionable boots she wore. A chunky belt, mounted with silver and strung with elongated conchos, showed off the smallness of her waist. Her ebony hair was pulled back in a sleek chignon, the severe style accenting the perfection of her face.
Casual? Jessy supposed it was, but it left her feeling a little underdressed in her sea green slacks and top. Being around Tara, it was something she was used to experiencing. It no longer bothered Jessy that much.
After the usual exchange of greetings with their hostess, Tara clasped her hands together with barely suppressed delight. “I can’t believe you all arrived at the same time. This is perfect.” With a graceful pivot and a presenting sweep of her hand, she directed their attention to the house. “Here it is. My new home. What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful,” Cat answered for all of them.
“It is, isn’t it?” Tara unabashedly agreed. “Obviously not every little thing is finished yet—like the landscaping. But we are planting only native shrubs. I made it clear to the landscape architect that I wanted the grounds to be an extension of the plains. Perhaps a few flowering plants in containers on the porch, but that is all. And something still has to be done to finish the driveway area, but I haven’t decided if I want to do it in stained concrete or pave it with brick or stone.”
“I noticed you are building a stable by the corral,” Ty remarked.
“Yes. At the moment it will hold six horses, but I have space to expand it to ten if I choose,” Tara explained. “And the architect is working on drawings for some sort of hangar shed and fuel storage facility for the helipad area. Once it’s finished, we’ll extend the driveway to it.”
“What about the trailer over by the corral?” Chase asked. “Is someone living there?”
“Buck Haskell and his father, for the time being anyway,” Tara replied and smiled with a touch of wry resignation. “That’s another thing that has to be built yet—a house for the groundskeeper, but I’m still debating about the exact site for it. I have to decide soon, though. It needs to be finished before winter.”
Trey chose that moment to let loose with a protesting shriek as he twisted in Ty’s arms, wanting down to run off some of his pent-up energy from the drive. His angry outcry initially startled Tara. But she quickly laughed.
“Bored with standing around, are you, young man?” She playfully tweaked his arm. “I think you are absolutely right. Let’s all go inside. You must be thirsty after that dusty ride. We’ll have a drink. Then I’ll show you around the house before we sit down to dinner.”
Without further ado, Tara ushered them into the house and straight to the main living area she identified as the great room. It possessed a comfortable lodge-like atmosphere with slate floors and roughly textured walls painted a soft gold that cast a warm glow over the room. Its decor was a curious blend of Western and Old World, bergère-style chairs upholstered in geometric-patterned fabric reminiscent of Navajo designs, an overstuffed leather sofa scattered with tapestry pillows. A deep red Persian rug covered the floor beneath a sturdy wooden coffee table, and antlered chandeliers hung from a darkly paneled coffered ceiling. Dominating the entire room was a massive fireplace, built of moss stone.
A waiter, dressed in cowboy boots, blue jeans, and a pearl-snapped plaid shirt, moved among the group, first taking their drink orders then returning with them. When all had their drinks in hand, Tara raised her wineglass, signaling a toast.
