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Ty left it to Jessy to contact Tara and inform her that he wouldn’t be coming that morning. She dialed the mobile number Tara had given them. But someone other than Tara answered. Jessy waited while Tara was summoned to th
e phone.
“Tara, it’s Jessy. Ty asked me to call and let you know he won’t be able to make it this morning. There’s been an accident here at the ranch.”
“Ty isn’t hurt, is he?” There was real alarm in Tara’s voice.
“No. One of the men on the windmill crew took a bad fall. Beyond an obvious broken leg, we aren’t sure of the extent of his injuries. The last I heard he was still unconscious. Ty is on his way to pick up Amy Trumbo and take her to the scene,” Jessy explained, referring to the ranch nurse.
“Where did it happen?” Tara’s tone became brisk and businesslike, without any emotional edge.
“At windmill twenty-nine, down at South Branch.”
“I can have one of my helicopters there in twenty minutes. We can airlift him directly to the hospital.”
“Right now we have an ambulance on the way. Once the extent of his injuries can be determined, it might be necessary to fly him out. If it is, I’ll call you back. But either way, thanks for offering.”
“I just want to help any way I can,” Tara replied. “I do remember that’s the way it’s done out here. Everybody pulls together in a crisis.”
“That’s right,” Jessy agreed and hung up, wondering if the offer was prompted by genuine concern for the man’s welfare or to project the right image.
Fortunately the helicopter wasn’t needed. Beyond the broken leg and a concussion, the injured worker had only some severe bruising. By Monday, he was released from the hospital and sent home on crutches.
The fall, however, seemed to ignite a whole string of minor catastrophes over the next two weeks, everything from a grass fire along the road to Blue Moon that burned nearly a hundred acres to the sudden death of a prized broodmare that had the vet shaking his head in bewilderment.
Although none of these things was out of the ordinary, cowboys tended to be a superstitious lot. Some began to blame the bad luck the Triple C was experiencing on Tara’s return, recalling the tragedies and near tragedies that had plagued the ranch when she was married to Ty. There were those of the certain opinion that more of the same was on the way. The loss of Wolf Meadow was just the start of the trouble to come. It made for a gloomy and sometimes churlish atmosphere.
Armed with a dust rag and a feather duster, Sally Brogan entered the den. As usual, Chase sat behind the desk, frowning over some papers in front of him, his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose.
Hearing her footsteps, he looked up, glaring at her over the rim of his glasses. “What do you want?”
“Nothing. Just doing a little dusting.” She gave the dark-feathered duster a pointed shake and skipped her glance around the room, pursing her lips at the sight of the opened window that guaranteed a steady infiltration of dust. “Goodness knows, this room needs it.”
“Can’t you see I’m trying to get some work done?” Chase snapped.
His sharpness momentarily startled her, but Sally was quick to dismiss it. “My, you are irritable today.”
“Who wouldn’t be with all this damned paperwork to go through?” He jerked his glasses off and tapped the papers with them in emphasis then continued to gesture with them. “Not to mention that pile of forms waiting. And you decide the room needs to be cleaned. Well, clean it and be damned.” He pushed stiffly out of the chair despite the protest of his achy joints.
Stunned by the explosion, Sally stared. She wasn’t a woman given to losing her temper, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have one. The hair on her head might be white, but it was red when she was born.
She unleashed a portion of its fiery nature on him. “Just because you’re in a bad mood, Chase Calder, don’t you be taking it out on me! I won’t stand for it.”
The outburst was so out of character, it momentarily brought him up short. After a long second, Chase dragged in a deep breath and let it out.
“Sorry.” His gaze darkened with regret even as the line of his mouth tightened in grimness. “I don’t know why I’m so restless and edgy. Maybe it’s from being cooped up behind that desk always dealing with a bunch of paperwork. There’s a whole damned ranch out there.” With an impatient sweep of his hand, he gestured toward the window. “And I don’t know what’s going on in half of it unless somebody puts it on a piece of paper. I feel so damned out of touch. It’s like I have lost control of it somehow.”
“It’s this Tara thing, isn’t it?” Sally guessed, a hint of worry creeping into her expression.
Chase sighed, the sound troubled and heavy, and resumed his seat in the big leather chair. “I wish I knew what she was up to.”
“Maybe it’s no more complicated than needing to feel that she belongs somewhere.”
“Maybe.” But he didn’t believe that. “The first time I met her, I could see she was a hungry girl, always wanting something. And now she’s a hungry woman. I can’t shake the feeling that she’s got a taste for something other than a home in the middle of the Triple C. It wasn’t enough to satisfy her before. It isn’t logical to think it would be now.”
“But what would it be?” That’s what puzzled Sally.
“I don’t know, but I’ll bet we won’t have to wait long to find out. She is not only hungry by nature, she is impatient. The day is coming when she will tip her hand, and it won’t be far off.”
