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When Jessy emerged from the caretaker’s quarters, Laredo stood a short distance away watching Jake gallop his imaginary horse in a wide circle. His attention shifted to her as she approached him.
“Everything okay in there, too?”
She answered with an absent nod. “I’d forgotten the house had three bedrooms. We just might be able to use Wolf Meadow as an outcamp. Our manpower is spread a little thin in this sector. Usually it’s not been much of a problem unless we have a hard winter.”
“That would mean putting a connecting road in,” Laredo reminded her.
“One of the old ranch roads used to come within three-quarters of a mile of old windmill eleven. Chase blocked it off and tore out the culvert when Tara gained title to Wolf Meadow. He wanted to make sure she couldn’t use it.” She cast a thoughtful glance in the direction of the old road. “It will take some work to make that road useable again, but it wouldn’t be as costly as putting in a whole new road.”
“It looks like you’ve come up with…at least a partial solution for this place,” Laredo said.
Just as Jessy opened her mouth to reply, there came a shouted “Whoa!” from Jake. Both turned to look. Laredo smiled in amusement at the sight of the young boy veering off his wide circle into some taller grass.
“Looks like Jake has himself a pretend runaway.” Laredo exchanged smiling glances with Jessy.
As always, Jessy used the opportunity to teach her grandson. “Let your horse run a bit,” she called. “Don’t pull back on the reins right away. He’ll just fight you. Make him go in a circle instead. That will slow him down.”
She watched in approval while Jake followed her instructions and brought his imaginary mount under control and started back toward them. Abruptly he stopped and stared at something to his left.
Jake pointed to it. “What’s that little pen for, Grandma?”
There, half hidden by the tall grasses and weeds, were a series of fence posts that boxed in an area roughly ten feet square. Jessy stared at it for an uncomprehending second before she realized what it was.
“That’s a cemetery plot, Jake,” she told him.
“You mean like that place we got down by the river where Grandpa’s…buried?” He frowned his uncertainty of the word’s meaning.
“Just like that,” Jessy confirmed. “Only this one’s smaller. And badly neglected, too,” she added in an undertone to Laredo, then walked over for a closer look, joined by both Laredo and Jake.
“Who’s buried here?” Laredo tried to make out the name on the gravestone through the high weeds.
“Buck Haskell and his father,” Jessy replied.
“Really.” Laredo frowned in surprise. “I didn’t remember that.”
“Probably not. You probably hadn’t been here on the Triple C much more than two or three years when Buck was killed in that head-on collision. We offered to have him buried in the ranch cemetery, but Vernon—Buck’s dad—wouldn’t hear of it. Of course, Vernon always blamed Chase for the way Buck turned out, insisting that if Chase hadn’t testified against him, Buck would never have gone to prison that first time.”
“Prison can bring out the worst in a person.”
To Jessy’s ears, Laredo’s remark sounded like a statement of fact, as if from personal knowledge. She was reminded of how little she knew about his past. Just for a moment she was curious, but she quickly shut the door on the questions, leaving the past in the past, fully aware that knowledge of it wouldn’t change anything.
“Have you noticed how quiet it’s been?” Laredo asked.
“Peacefully so,” Jessy agreed and let her glance wander over the isolated spot, hearing the soft murmur of a breeze through the grass. “The quiet
is something that always strikes me anytime I get away from the constant comings and goings at headquarters.”
“That’s true, but I wasn’t referring to that kind of quiet,” Laredo said.
Her sidelong glance was half amused and half puzzled. “Exactly what kind do you mean?”
His shoulders moved in a vague shrug. “It just seems we’ve had a long spell without anyone causing trouble.”
“Is that a complaint—or merely an observation?” During these years they had been together, Jessy had learned to trust his instincts. It made her wonder if he was sensing something now, enough that she couldn’t laugh off.
“Not sure what it is,” Laredo admitted. “I just have this uneasy feeling I can’t explain.” With quicksilver swiftness, a lazy smile stripped the serious look from his face. “Probably nothing.”
“Probably,” Jessy agreed, aware that she felt a new need for alertness.
