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There was a clunk of the receiver being set down. In the background, there was the low murmur of voices, the words indistinguishable. Then Stumpy Niles was on the line.
“I spoke to the sheriff,” Ty said. “And he was about as much help as a drop of water in the desert. So we’re on our own.”
“I could have told you that,” Stumpy offered dryly. “It’s not wise to count on getting help from anyone but yourself.”
“I know, you can’t wait for somebody else to solve your problems.” Ty repeated the saying that he’d heard time and again. “We’re going to start actively looking for Cathleen ourselves. I want you to organize the boys into pairs and drive every inch of highway between here and Helena. I want them to hit every road stop and bus stop along the way. I’ll be at The Homestead by eleven. We’ll use that as the headquarters. If they find anyone who thinks they have seen her, they’re to call immediately. Got that?”
“I’ll have them on the road in less than twenty minutes,” Stumpy promised, glad some action was finally being taken.
Before he left the kitchen, he called a thanks to DeeDee again for the doughnuts. Sally passed the word that no one in the restaurant remembered seeing Cat but they’d keep an eye out for her. Ty flipped some coins on the counter to pay for the coffee he hadn’t drunk and walked out of the cafe to his truck. He swung into the cab and jammed one of the doughnuts between his teeth as he started the motor. The second he left in its napkin on the seat. The doughnut was so fresh the first bite nearly melted in his mouth as he started to reverse onto the highway.
A horn honked. “Hey, mister!” A man shouted from his car. “You got a low tire in back.”
Ty waved a thanks and pulled over to the gas pumps next door, not wanting to be delayed by a flat on the way home. Emmett Fedderson plodded out of the store. “What d’ya need?” he asked.
“Just some air in the rear tire. One of them’s low,” Ty said and hopped out of the truck to check it himself, still munching on the doughnut.
“Is that one of DeeDee’s?” Emmett asked as he pulled the air hose around to the back of the truck.
“Yeah.” Ty crouched down and unscrewed the cap from the valve.
“Your whole family’s got a sweet tooth this morning,” the man observed and passed Ty the air hose.
The remark instantly put him alert. “What do you mean? Was my sister by your store this morning?”
“Your sister, no. It was your uncle—O’Rourke.” He shook his head, mildly amused by his own thoughts. “That crazy Culley was waiting outside when I unlocked the doors this morning. He bought two sacks of cookies, a chocolate-cake mix and frosting, as well as a ten-pound bag of sugar. I never knew him to buy that much sweet stuff in a year.”
“Chocolate cake.” Ty wasn’t even conscious of saying the words out loud. It was Cat’s favorite. In his mind, there was a vision of Cat embracing O’Rourke at the funeral . . . sharing their grief, he’d said at the time.
“Aren’t you gonna put air in that tire?” Fedderson prodded him.
“Yeah . . . yeah.” It was an absent response, and he fitted the hose connection onto the valve with equal absentness. It was incredible. He would never have looked for Cat at the Shamrock Ranch in a million years. With the tire filled, he straightened. “Do me a favor,” he asked and didn’t wait for Fedderson to agree. “Call the Triple C and talk to Stumpy Niles. Tell him not to send the men. Tell him I’m on my way to O’Rourke’s place and not to do anything until he hears from me.”
“Sure.” The request made him curious. “Wha
t’s going on?”
Ty didn’t take the time to answer him. Right now, he just wanted to get to O’Rourke’s place and find out if his hunch was right.
The second doughnut lay forgotten on the seat. In this country, there was no such thing as short distances. Ty had an hour’s worth of traveling or more ahead of him.
After she had slipped the cake pan into the preheated oven, Cat walked back to the counter and picked up the mixing bowl. With her finger, she wiped the sides and wandered to the kitchen table, licking the chocolate batter from her finger.
“This is the best part,” she told Culley, her tongue darting out to clean the corners of her lips, and offered him the bowl. “Want some?”
His mouth curved with indulgent humor as he shook his head in quiet refusal. “You go ahead.” He’d smiled more in the last few hours than he remembered smiling all his life. Pleasure and contentment ran through him. A light glowed in his dark eyes. He’d passed the fifty mark and once again life seemed worth living.
With the bowl wiped clean, Cat licked every last bit of batter from her fingers and carried the bowl to the sink. “It’s been ages since I’ve messed around in the kitchen,” she declared. “It’s fun.”
“Your momma used to do a lot of baking,” he recalled. “She’d go out and work on the ranch all day long, just like a man, then come home an’ cook our meals an’ clean the house.” But he didn’t want to dwell on the past. “There’s still a couple of doughnuts left.”
“I couldn’t eat any more,” Cat insisted. “I must have eaten a dozen already. Besides, I have to save room for the cake. What I need is some exercise.” She laughed. “After that long walk last night, I never thought I’d say that again.”
“Maybe later I can saddle a couple horses and we can go riding, I can show you around the ranch. It’s pretty country, but it’s not much good for raising cattle—not enough water and not enough grass.”
“I’d like that, but”—she looked down at the regulation pleated skirt—“I don’t have anything to wear but this dumb school skirt. I was going to have the school send my clothes home. I’m afraid this won’t work for riding horseback.”
“I wish I’d thought about that.” Culley frowned. “When I was in town, I could have bought you some everyday clothes to wear.”
