For a fleeting second, she wished Culley would sell the ranch and come to California, but she knew he wouldn’t. She didn’t even think she wanted him to, because deep down, she wanted her brother to get even with the Calders someday. She didn’t know how, and she didn’t care. She just wanted to know that someday they would be brought to their knees.
Chapter XIX
Jake’s place was wild and raucous. The Triple C was enjoying its first real blowout since the fall roundup. But it wasn’t just Triple C riders who were celebrating, although they did outnumber the other small ranchers and townspeople. It seemed everyone had chosen this Saturday night to party before the long winter set in. This night would provide subject matter to talk about during the cold evenings ahead.
As Chase started across the saloon to freshen his drink at the bar, a hand slapped him on the back. “Hey, Boss!” Buck mocked his new status at the Triple C. Chase was no longer just a cowboy. He had been promoted to foreman. “It ain’t dignified anymore for you to get drunk,” Buck warned. “You gotta look after the rest of us and keep us out of trouble, Boss.”
Buck had been razzing him since the day his father had made the change. Chase thought the constant teasing was beginning to wear thin, but he let Buck’s remark slide off, as he’d let all the others.
“Thought you were in the back room playing poker,” he said, instead.
“I decided to quit while I was ahead.”
“Buy you a drink?” Chase offered.
“Nope.” Buck shook his head and winked broadly. “I’m gonna go rub bellies with Connie Sue while they’re playing something my two left feet can dance to.”
With that, Buck moved off to the small area by the juke box used as a dance floor. Connie Sue Bingham was a local girl, recently divorced. She’d been somebody’s date that night, but Chase had seen her with so many cowboys, he had given up trying to decide who it was. He watched Buck cut in and whirl her away from her previous partner, and smiled as he continued to the bar. There were times when Buck seemed totally irresponsible, yet he was a damned good cowboy.
He shouldered his way up to the bar and signaled Jake to refill his glass. Several cowboys at the bar were embroiled in a discussion about the long-range forecast for the winter ahead. Chase listened in on it, like every other cattleman wanting a way to outguess the weather. Someone wedged a shoulder into the small space beside him, and Chase shifted to make room, turning to see who it was.
“Hello, Fred.” Chase greeted the man, a bull-rider on the rodeo circuit with a few acres outside of town where he spent the winters. “How did you do this year?”
“Not bad, not bad,” the cowboy drawled. “Broke two ribs at Wolf Point, dislocated a shoulder in Miles City, and cracked my wrist in Butte. All things considered, I had a good year. Wasn’t ever injured so bad that I couldn’t ride.”
“That’s not bad,” Chase agreed.
Fred popped the
top of a beer can and took a swig. “You’d better teach your buddy how to play poker. He lost damned near everything but his shirt.”
“You mean Buck Haskell?” Chase frowned. He’d had the impression Buck had come out ahead at the poker table for a change.
“Yeah. I don’t think he won a single pot tonight, but he played ’til he was broke. He’s either stubborn or stupid.” The cowboy pushed away from the bar with the beer in his hand. “Guess I’ll call it a night while I’m still able to walk.” He lifted his beer in a farewell salute. “See you around, Chase.”
“Take care, Fred.” Leaning an elbow on the white-ringed bartop, he turned at a right angle to it and watched the rodeo cowboy wend his way to the front door in that peculiar rolling gait that accompanied bowed legs. His glance strayed to Buck, on the dance floor with Connie Sue. He didn’t know what it was about Buck and money. He’d never known anyone so anxious to get it and so quick to get rid of it.
With a wry shake of his head, he faced the bar again and leaned both elbows on the countertop. The weather was still the subject of discussion around him, mostly an individual recounting of previous hard winters and debating which was the worst.
As he lifted his glass to take a drink, his gaze automatically went to the long mirror behind the bar. From where he was standing, the mirror reflected a view of the front door. Buck was beside it, looking around in an odd way, as if to see whether anyone was watching him. A frown narrowed Chase’s eyes as he watched his friend slip outside. He lowered the glass, the frown deepening while he swirled the melting cubes in the amber liquid. Maybe Buck was meeting Connie Sue outside on the sly, Chase thought and tried to dismiss the incident with a shrug. His gaze absently searched the minor’s reflection until he found her. She was sitting with someone else and showed no signs of having a rendezvous to keep.
Overcome with curiosity about his friend’s whereabouts and his reasons, Chase pushed away from the bar. An impulse he didn’t quite understand carried him to the rear entrance of the saloon instead of the front door. It was used mainly as a rear access to the second floor, permitting customers to come and go without necessarily being seen by anyone in the bar if they chose.
Before he reached the door, it opened and Buck walked in, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them in an effort to warm them from the exposure to the chill of the November night. He gave a guilty start when he first saw Chase, then recovered quickly to grin.
“What are you doing, Chase? Sneakin’ up the back stairs?”
“Where have you been?” A half-smile softened the challenge, but Chase couldn’t stop the suspicion running through him concerning Buck’s odd behavior.
“Just stepped out for some air,” Buck shrugged and continued to grin. “The smoke’s so thick in here it burns your eyes.”
“Is that why you went out the front door and came in the back?” Chase asked and saw the discomfited look flash in Buck’s eyes.
“What’re you talking about?” Buck laughed.
There was a shout from the bar area. “Hey! Somebody help! Fred Dickens is outside with his head bashed in! We gotta get him to a hospital!”
Chase shot his gaze at Buck, narrowed in disbelieving accusation. His friend had a look of surprise on his face, too. Chase couldn’t tell if it was faked or real. Buck started to push by him.