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“As a matter of fact, I don’t.”
The hardened contempt in his expression never wavered. “I suppose you’re gonna tell me that y
ou don’t know Markham came to me first with his lease deal,” he countered. “My mistake was in calling Chase to check this English guy out. Chase said he’d look into it for me. He did that all right. He snatched the deal for himself. It shouldn’t surprise me. The big ones always gotta get bigger—and to hell with the little guys.”
There was a touch of sarcasm in the polite way he touched his hat to her before walking away. Stunned, Jessy stood motionless, letting the full implication of his words wash over her.
The expression of resentment wasn’t new. No ranch could be as big as the Triple C without sowing seeds of envy among smaller spreads. What made it unusual this time was Monte’s involvement. It seemed to be almost too much of a coincidence.
Trey tugged at her hand. “Can we go, Mom?”
After a brief hesitation, Jessy nodded. “First, though, we have to find Gramma and Poppy.”
“How come?” Trey wanted to know.
“Because we are riding with them.” But when she glanced toward the church, it was Monte she saw in her line of vision, gliding straight toward her. For the first time Jessy felt a new wariness of him.
“Good morning.” His greeting was typically warm and friendly. “Lovely sermon today, wasn’t it?”
“I enjoyed it.” Curious, she tilted her head to one side. “You must have been sitting in front. I don’t remembering seeing you.”
“Indeed I was,” Monte confirmed. “A habit from home, I expect. Our family always occupies the front pew at Sunday service.” Just when Jessy had nearly convinced herself a simple coincidence was no basis for suspicion, Monte glanced in the direction of the Seymour sedan as it pulled out of the church parking lot. “Isn’t that George . . . George . . .” With an impatient snap of his fingers, he attempted to recall the rancher’s surname.
“George Seymour.” Jess supplied it. “Yes, I was talking to him only a minute ago. The wind blew away Trey’s paper and George was kind enough to snare it for him.”
Jessy didn’t volunteer more than that. Monte seemed to wait a beat to see whether she had anything else to add.
Before the silence became too long, he offered wryly, “I always remember names and faces, but not always together.”
Jessy chose not to comment on that. “I’m sorry we weren’t able to come to your place for dinner today.”
He waved off her apology. “I understand, although it seems circumstances are conspiring to prevent me from returning your hospitality. Just the same”—Monte paused, glancing at Trey, a touch of fondness in the curve of his mouth—“I agree that Trey has waited long enough for his surprise.”
“I gotta s’prise?” Trey asked, suddenly all ears. “Where? What is it?” Instantly he was cautious. “It’s not another pony, is it?”
Monte chuckled. “I have it on good authority that it is definitely not a pony.”
Her parents joined them. After the customary exchange of greetings with Monte, Stumpy turned to Trey. “I see you caught up with your drawin’. Did it get hurt any?”
“Naw.” Trey smoothed the paper again, then darted a look at Monte. “He says I gotta s’prise, Poppy. Do you know about it?”
A smile twitched Stumpy’s mouth. “I reckon I know a little about it.”
“What is it?” Laura chimed in. “Do I have one?”
“Not this time, pet,” he told her.
Laura thought about it a minute, then decided. “That’s okay. Trey can have one this time.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” Stumpy declared, still fighting not to smile.
“Where is my s’prise, Poppy?” Trey wanted to know.
“At my place,” he replied. “Are you ready to head in that direction? I think we should. Your grandma left dinner in the oven, and we don’t want it to burn up before we get there.”
“Will I get my s’prise before or after dinner?” Convinced now that his grandfather was the source of his surprise, Trey was more eager to have it.
“After.”
