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“Yes.”
Her clipped, one-word response served only to feed his suspicions. “Was any motive established at the killer’s trial?”
“There was no trial. Ballard was killed by Buck when he tried to stab Chase.”
“Who is Buck?” Laredo was determined to gather as much information as possible to help Chase fill in some of the blanks and possibly trigger the return of his memory. And if that didn’t work, he would at least know some of the players in his life.
“Buck Haskell. He works for me.”
He arched an eyebrow in confusion. “Don’t you live here in Fort Worth?”
“Yes, but I also have a summer home on the Triple C. Buck looks after it for me when I’m not there.” She seemed to realize the incongruity of her statement. “I know it must seem strange that I would keep a home there after our divorce, but I still regard the Calders as my family. Cat is like a little sister to me. And there are the twins. They are as precious to me as if they were my own.”
“The twins,” he repeated, not sure if these were more of Chase’s children.
“Yes. They are Ty’s by his second marriage. A boy and a beautiful little girl.”
“Chase’s grandchildren.” Laredo nodded as if remembering them only at that moment. “What are their names again?”
“The little girl is Laura and the boy is Trey. Actually, Trey is named Chase Benteen Calder, after his grandfather. But Chase referred to him as his little ‘trey spot’ almost from the moment he came home from the hospital. And the name Trey stuck.” She swirled the wine in her glass. “It’s probably just as well that it did. It would have become confusing to have two people called Chase in the house, especially for the child.”
“It certainly would.” He took advantage of her willingness to speak about the family, recognizing that people found it easier to open up to a stranger. “I don’t mean to sound nosy, but I can’t help wondering why you seem so sure that this man Ballard killed Chase’s son when he never came to trial. I know it’s logical to think that, since he made an attempt on Chase’s life, but . . .” He let the sentence hang with a question mark.
“Because Ballard admitted it to Jessy before he died.” Something in her expression told him that Ty’s death was a subject she found particularly painful. Was she still in love with the man, or was there another reason for it?
“Who is Jessy?” he asked, shifting the focus.
“Ty’s second wife.” Her voice had an edge to it. Clearly Jessy was not popular with her, but few ex-wives did like the women who supplanted them in their husband’s affections.
“I guess the Calder ranch will pass into the daughter’s hands,” Laredo remarked, seeking information without asking for it.
“As I understand, Jessy will be in charge.” The dislike in her voice thickened.
“Really?” He arched an eyebrow, suspicion sharpening. “Whose idea was that?”
“Actually, it’s what Chase wanted.” She took a big swallow of wine as if washing down a bad taste.
“Really,” Laredo murmured, much less skeptically. “I guess he would know whether she was qualified to run it or not.”
“Oh, she has the qualifications,” Tara agreed with an undertone of sarcasm. “She was born and raised on the ranch, just like her father and his father before that.”
“Sounds like a clannish bunch.” His comment evoked only silence from her, which served as a kind of confirmation. Laredo wondered how welcome Tara had felt coming there as a new bride. And he also wondered how tolerant this elegant woman had been of the ranch hands. No doubt she was more at home in Fort Worth society than a ranch setting. “When will the funeral be? Have they said?”
“It’s tentatively planned for Tuesday.” She ran her glance over his face, curious and measuring. “Do you plan to attend?”
“I was thinking about it. What’s the closest airport?”
“Commercially? That would be Miles City.”
“Do you usually fly into there?”
“No. My company has a landing strip at Blue Moon. I use it,” she explained. “It’s much closer to the ranch. I imagine most people will make use of the airstrip at the Triple C.”
“I forgot. The ranch has its own landing strip, doesn’t it,” he guessed.
“Yes.” Idly she held the wineglass by its stem and swept a skimming glance over his boots, jeans, and hat. “What business are you in? Cattle or oil?”
“In Fort Worth, it’s usually one or the other, isn’t it?” He smiled, deflecting the question. “Wasn’t it Amon Carter who said: ‘Fort Worth is where the West begins. Dallas is where the East peters out.’ ”
