“Maybe you did rustle a bunch of Triple C cattle, Pa,” he said. “But that didn’t give old man Calder the right t’ take the law in his own hands and hang ya.”
Before the memory of those long ago days could upset him again, Culley turned away and shoved his hat back on his head. He hesitated, glancing back at the weed-choked plot.
“It ain’t right the way they let this place go to seed,” he said and experienced a twinge of guilt that he hadn’t checked on it before. “I’ll come back t’morrow an’ tidy it up a bit.”
Exploring further, he found some fresh tire tracks and more footprints, a set on either side of the vehicle. Judging from the depth of the impressions, Culley guessed they were made by men. Among them he found one of Jessy’s boot prints. Which meant she must have met up with them.
&nbs
p; Who or why, he still didn’t know and wasn’t likely to find out, either. But at least he had discovered the answers to some of his questions.
Chapter Six
The next morning it took Culley the better part of an hour to search through the barn and tool shed before he finally found the old hand scythe. After that he spent twenty minutes at the grindstone, sharpening its blade.
It was a few minutes past nine o’clock when he finally tossed the scythe into the back of his old pickup and climbed behind the wheel. He drove to the end of the lane and made the turn to head for the old cemetery.
The engine in the old pickup balked when he pushed down on the accelerator. The truck’s top speed was usually between forty and fifty miles an hour. But this morning he had trouble getting it up to thirty-five.
When he saw another pickup traveling toward him, Culley glanced in the rearview mirror, relieved to see there was nobody behind him. He didn’t want to find himself in an accident because some fool tried to pass him.
With his attention once more on the road ahead of him, Culley let his gaze wander to the oncoming pickup. He was quick to recognize the Triple C insignia on its door. He peered at the windshield, trying to identify the driver.
But he didn’t get a good look until the truck went by him. The minute he saw Jessy Calder behind the wheel, he decided she was on her way to the Circle Six to visit Cat.
He wouldn’t have given it another thought if he hadn’t noticed a second pickup following close behind her. Culley saw right away that it had out-of-state license plates. It was rare enough for anyone to travel these roads, let alone a nonresident of Montana.
There appeared to be two, maybe three people traveling in it, but Culley had a good look at only the driver. Right away he felt there was something familiar about him. Then he remembered the cowboy who had talked with Jessy at the Triple C cemetery. It started him wondering if that cowboy might also be the same one she met yesterday.
“But,” Culley said to himself with a frown, “why did she meet him on the sly?”
Located on the jutting shoulder of a rocky foothill, the old line shack was tucked against the slope to take advantage of its shelter from the cold winter winds. The terrain was more stone than soil, studded with brush, stunted pines, and patches of scrawny grass.
A deadfall had prevented them from driving closer than a hundred yards from the site. Jessy felt the tug and stretch of her leg muscles as she made the sloping climb.
When she topped the rise to the foothill’s shoulder, she came to an abrupt stop and simply stared at the dilapidated structure. A sizable section of the roof had collapsed; all the windows were broken, and the door hung drunkenly on its hinges.
“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.” Jessy glanced at Chase with a mixture of regret and concern. “It’s in worse shape than I thought.”
On the other side of him, Hattie murmured in dismay, “Lordy, this reminds me of where we stayed in Mexico—” She broke off the sentence and threw a worried glance at Laredo as if she had said something she shouldn’t.
“Now, you aren’t looking at it right.” Laredo smiled lazily, hands on his hips, one leg cocked in a relaxed stance. “This place has a skylight, good air flow, and a quaintly rustic touch.”
“Ramshackle, you mean,” Hattie corrected with dry censure.
“You’re forgetting that your house wasn’t in much better shape when you and Ed bought the place. As long as the line shack doesn’t fall over when you lean on it, it can be repaired.” He laid a hand on her shoulder in quiet encouragement and urged her forward. “Let’s go take a closer look.”
“I’ll go look,” Hattie agreed with obvious reservations. “But I’m telling you right now that I’m glad we used the last of our cash to buy that tent. You can bet that’s where I’ll be sleeping tonight.”
“Speaking of money,” Jessy dug into her jeans pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. She handed it to Chase. “This is about all we had left in the petty cash fund. I haven’t figured out how I’m going to account for it yet, but I will.”
“That’s easily handled.” Chase glanced at the bills before stuffing them in his own pocket. “Do you have a slip of paper?”
“I have a tablet back at the truck. Why? What do you have in mind?”
“I’ll write an IOU, sign it, and date it prior to my trip to Texas.”
Jessy nodded in immediate understanding. “That way I won’t have to explain anything.”