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“Why would she meet him there?” She used the spatula to baste his eggs.
“Don’t know,” Culley replied.
“How curious,” Cat murmured and removed the bacon strips from the skillet, laying them on a paper towel to drain.
“They moved here.”
“Really.” A quick check confirmed that his eggs were done. She dished them up, retrieved the toast from the toaster, added the drained bacon and carried his plate to the table. “I guess they sold their place in Texas.”
“I reckon.” Culley pulled out a chair and sat down. “The old man must’a died. It’s just the mother and the son. He’s a man grown, though, about Jessy’s age.”
Cat poured herself a fresh cup of coffee and sat down at the table with him. “Where are they living? In Blue Moon?” It was only Culley’s interest in them that made Cat curious about a family she didn’t know.
“Nope. They’ve set up house in that old line shack up in the foothills.”
“You’re kidding,” she said in disbelief. “That old cabin has been empty for years.”
“Jessy paid ’im to fix it up,” Culley replied between bites of food.
“The family must have fallen on hard times,” Cat concluded, before her thoughts jumped to another track. “But if they needed a place to live, why would Jessy stick them way out there? The old Stanton place is empty, and so is the house at East camp. Good heavens, there isn’t even a road to that old shack. Although, I suppose she could have hired them to fix it up so it wouldn’t look like charity. They might have been too proud to accept otherwise. And goodness knows, the ranch doesn’t need extra hands at this time of year.”
“Well, the son’s on the Triple C payroll.”
“Naturally. You said Je
ssy hired him to fix the cabin.” Cat raised her cup to take a sip.
“Oh, he finished that.” Culley scooped the last bite of egg onto his fork. “Now he’s workin’ at the feedlot.”
“The feedlot?” Cat lowered her cup. “What is there for him to do at the lot? We haven’t fed cattle since—why, since Ty and Tara were still married.”
“He’s lookin’ after that English fella’s cows.”
“You mean Monte Markham? You must be mistaken.” Cat shook her head, convinced that Culley’s age was beginning to show.
“Nope. Saw the semis unloadin ’em with my own eyes two days ago. An’ it was Jessy herself who tole me she was leasin’ the lot to that Monte character, an’ he was going to pay her to look after ’em. It seemed peculiar to me. I can’t remember a time when a cow that didn’t carry the Triple C brand was allowed on the place. Now there’s a whole lot full of ’em. If Calder knew about it, he’d turn over in his grave.” He leaned back in his chair and patted his stomach. “Mighty good breakfast, Cat. But you always did know how to fix my eggs just the way I like ’em.”
Cat was too stunned by his previous statements for the compliment to register. She looked at him with dawning knowledge. “This is what you came here to tell me, isn’t it?”
Culley didn’t deny it. “That ranch is yours, too. Figured you ought’a know what’s goin’ on over there.”
“You’re right. Dad would never have agreed to it.” The longer she thought about it the more convinced Cat became.
“I figure somebody talked her into it.” He stood up and moved away from the table.
“Who?” The instant she asked the question, she guessed the answer. “The Smiths.”
“Could be,” he replied with a small restless movement of his narrow shoulders.
“Why, I wonder?” she murmured.
“Could be they got somethin’ to gain outa it.”
“But what?”
“I ain’t figured that out yet,” Culley admitted. “But it smells funny, don’t it?”
After giving it a moment of thought, Cat was forced to agree. “Yes.” She nodded. “Yes, it does.”
