Chapter Five
M
orning brought an end to the rain, but the clouds and the wind stayed, making it another gloomy and blustery day. It had been close to midnight when the limo dropped Ty and Cat at their hotel. Ty hadn’t slept well; he seldom did in a strange bed.
After an early breakfast with Cat, he returned to his room to make the necessary phone calls while she went off to do some shopping. It was a slow process, making the calls and waiting for his to be returned. Each time the phone rang, he expected to hear Tara on the other end. But it never was.
Ty found it difficult not to remember the sight of Tara lying alone in that bed, looking small and lost—and so very vulnerable. The Tara he knew had never been vulnerable. Not even for one second.
Abruptly he tore off the notepad sheet listing the places, the contact names, and the directions to them, swung away from the silent telephone, grabbed up his hat and sheepskin-lined jacket, and headed for the door, stuffing the list in his jacket pocket.
Before he reached it, someone rapped on the door. Assuming it was the maid coming to clean the room, Ty opened it. Tara stood in the hall, her hands buried in the pockets of a fur-lined raincoat. She wore little makeup, a touch of mascara, a blush of lipstick, but no more than that. It had the effect of heightening the pallor of her skin and enhancing that aura of vulnerability. But it was the lack of vitality that struck him hardest.
“I didn’t dream you,” Tara murmured. “You did come.”
“Yes.” Ty wanted to ask what she was doing there, what she wanted from him. But she seemed too fragile to respond to such a direct question without shattering.
“Brownsmith told me that you sat by my bed until nearly midnight. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Her glance drifted down to the hat and coat he carried. The sight of them seemed to momentarily fluster her. “Are you going somewhere?” The question held a note of panic, reinforcing the impression of fragility.
“As a matter of fact, I was,” Ty admitted. “Why?”
“Because . . .” Tara hesitated then appeared to gather herself. “I didn’t go to the cemetery yesterday. I wanted to visit Daddy’s grave today, but I was hoping you would take me.” She lifted her head, her dark eyes vocal in their appeal. “Please. I don’t want to be alone.”
It was such a small request, one that wouldn’t take more than an hour or two of his time. To refuse seemed somehow vindictive and callous.
His lack of an immediate response prompted Tara to add, with a downcast look, “You probably have an appointment.” Head down, she started to turn away.
“It won’t hurt anything if I’m a little late.” Ty stepped into the hall, closing the door behind him.
“Thank you.” Her soft voice was husky with gratitude.
A brisk wind stirred through the damp leaves, raking the willing ones into small piles at the base of the gravestones. It was a cold and damp day, made all the more bleak by the low, gray clouds.
Ty kept a steadying hand around Tara as they made their way over the uneven ground, past the orderly rows of ancient markers. With one hand, she clutched the up-turned fur collar tight around her neck, completing the frame of her cameo-perfect features. In the other hand, she carried a single Texas-yellow rose.
Their destination was just ahead, Dyson’s final resting place marked by a rectangular mound of freshly turned earth, a sharp contrast to the winter-brown grasses. When they reached the site, Ty removed his hat out of respect, conscious of the wind ruffling his hair, as it was doing to Tara’s.
They stood silently beside the new grave for a long run of seconds. For all of Dyson’s Texas-flash while living, his granite headstone was an unusually modest one, containing no more than his name, date of birth, and a blank space for the date of his death to be engraved.
Stepping forward, Tara bent down and placed the yellow rose atop the dirt. The wind immediately blew at it, but it caught against a large clod and stayed in place.
Rising, Tara brushed back a strand of hair the wind had whipped across her face. “Daddy left written instructions that we were to move heaven and earth, if necessary, to see that he was buried here. He said he wanted to lie among real Texans, not a bunch of newcomers. Silly, isn’t it?” she mused.
“He was proud of his Texas roots.”
“I know.” With a turn of her head, she looked up at Ty. Just for a minute there was that knowing gleam of the old Tara in her eyes. “Whereas the Calders rarely mention theirs at all.”
It was the kind of subtly flirtatious look that invited a smile. Ty responded with a slow one. “I guess we’ve been in Montana too long.”
Tara watched the smiling movement of his mouth, finding something sexy in the laziness of it that still had the power to snatch at her breath. There was a time when she would have tilted her head at just the right angle, inviting more than his smile. But she was much too wise to try that ploy this time. Instead Tara hooked an arm around his and let her gaze wander over the old cemetery.
“Do you remember the last time you brought me here, Ty? You wanted to show me where your great-grandfather was buried. We were both still in college.” At a leisurely pace, she began to stroll in the direction of the car, drawing Ty with her, arm in arm.
“That was a long time ago.”
“You proposed to me that day,” Tara reminded him, giving him one of her patented sideways glances that was both coy and mischievous.
“For either the third or fourth time. I did a lot of proposing back then, as I recall.”
There was an opening there, but Tara let it pass. “We were so young back then. Or at least I was. You were too serious to ever really be young.”
“I suppose.”
She deliberately let the silence lengthen a little. “It’s sad, isn’t it?”
“What?” Ty’s glance touched her with mild interest.
“That you have to lose someone close to you, someone you loved very much, before you realize that money, status, the opinions of others—none of that matters. Only the people in your life are important. All my life I’ve been so ambitious—” Tara stopped and darted him a wry look. “But you know that better than anybody. Now—now, I realize that I spent all that time chasing the wrong things. And that is very, very sad.” She knew there was nothing Ty could say to that, so she didn’t give him the chance to respond. “Sorry. As always, I’m so wrapped up in myself and my troubles that I haven’t even asked how you are.”
“I’m fine. Busy as usual.” It was exactly the kind of noncommittal response Tara expected from him.
“And Jessy?” It was so hard to keep her lip from curling in dislike.
“She and the twins are fine.”
“She’s had the babies, then.” The news was like a lead weight in her stomach.
“Last week,” Ty replied, with a hint of pride in his voice. “A boy
and
a girl.”
“A boy and a girl.” Tara didn’t have to feign her surprise. Therefore, she let it work for her. “Then, you have been doubly blessed.”
“We think so.”
The pronoun grated at her with its reference to Jessy. “What are their names?” She tried to sound interested.
“Laura Marie and Chase Benteen Calder III.”
So the name continues, Tara thought, tasting bitterness. She had never gotten along with her former father-in-law despite numerous attempts to gain his favor. In his inimitable way, Chase Calder had made it clear he tolerated her only because his son had chosen her to be his wife.
“That’s quite a mouthful for a little baby,” was the comment she made.
“Dad has taken to calling him Trey, and the nickname’s caught on.”
Tara leaned into his shoulder as they walked. “You sound very happy, Ty. I’m glad for you.”
When he glanced down, Tara observed the doubt flicker in his eyes, questioning the sincerity of her words. She looked away, irritated that, in some ways, he knew her so well.
A gust of wind buffeted both of them. Taking advantage of its cold blast, she shuddered. “It’s positively freezing. I don’t suppose you would have time to buy a girl a cup of coffee, would you?”
“I think it could be arranged.”
The café Ty chose was in the Stockyards District, not far from the cemetery. Personally Tara would have picked a trendier spot than this over-the-top cowboy-themed café that catered mainly to the tourists. But the abundance of empty tables suited her purposes, creating a privacy and intimacy that she might not have attained in other places where she would have been more readily recognized and their conversation possibly interrupted.
With her usual skill, Tara made sure that
she
became the subject under discussion. She was well aware that Ty pitied her. If pity was the only emotion she aroused in him, then she was determined to use it.
“I was there when Daddy died. Did you know?”
“No.” His expression softened with deepening sympathy.
“He was gone so quick, there wasn’t anything anyone could do. The heart attack was massive and sudden. He collapsed and I screamed. In those few seconds it took to rush to him, it was over and he was dead. I keep telling myself that I’m glad he didn’t suffer long, but—” Tara broke off the rest of the sentence, punctuating it with a vague shrug and a teary-eyed smile.
“At least you were with him,” Ty offered.
“Yes.” She nodded. “These last few months, Daddy looked so tired. I tried to get him to slow down, but he wouldn’t listen. It’s clear now that he knew he wasn’t well. Possibly he even knew that he didn’t have much longer. Maybe that’s why he pushed himself so hard lately. He wanted to get his affairs in order. Isn’t that a horrible phrase—‘get his affairs in order’? I despise it,” Tara declared.
“I’m sure he did it for you.”
“I know. And the lawyers tell me that he succeeded admirably. As far as the business side goes, I have minimum responsibilities, and absolutely no financial worries, personally. My time and money are my own now. Unfortunately I’m not sure what to do with either of them. Life looks so empty right now.”
“That’s to be expected,” Ty assured her. “But later on, you’ll find plenty of things to do, places to go, parties to give.”
Tara wondered if he truly believed she was that frivolous. Had he forgotten that she had never entertained anyone without a purpose? Not even now.
“Logic tells me you’re right. But at the moment, the future looks horribly bleak—and much too depressing to talk about anymore. Tell me about the ranch. What’s going on there? Has your father acquired title to that Wolf Meadow land yet?”
“We’re working on it.”
“Dealing with the government is never easy. Even though he was very good at it, Daddy hated it. He said it was always such a hassle. Just about the time you had a deal struck, there would be an election and a big shuffling of people. Suddenly, there you were with a brand new person in charge and you had to start almost from the beginning.”
“We’ve run into our share of that,” Ty admitted, but didn’t elaborate. Tara recalled a time when he would have discussed his problems in detail with her. But he was being as close-mouthed as his father about them now.
“The environmental lobby is very strong right now, too. That has to be an obstacle as well.”
“They have definitely been among the opposition.”
After a moment’s pause, Tara chose not to pursue the subject. “It’s good to talk about things like this—for me, anyway. It gets my mind off things,” she said, determined not to give him the impression she was probing for information. “At the hotel, you mentioned you had someplace you needed to be. As I recall, you only flew to Texas when you were in the market for a bull or some brood mares. So, which is it this time?”
Ty smiled, revealing that he was comfortable with this subject. “Actually, it’s neither.”
“Really?” Tara lifted the coffee mug to her lips, peering curiously over the rim at him.
“We’re considering holding private auctions for our registered livestock. Since I was here in Texas, I thought I would scout out the kinds of facilities other ranchers use for theirs.”
Eyes widening, Tara lowered the mug, her interest piqued. “Some of those private sales are incredibly lavish affairs, private jets flying in from all over the country. They are almost as much social events as they are buying sprees.” She hesitated, deliberately. “I don’t know how to say this, Ty, but—this doesn’t sound like the kind of thing that would meet with your father’s approval.”
His mouth slanted in a crooked smile. “He isn’t all that keen on the idea. But if the preliminary figures we’ve run are only half right, the profit margin could still be staggering, more than enough to warrant being temporarily inconvenienced.”
“When is your first sale scheduled? I would love to come.”
“That’s at least a year or two away. We still need to determine the type of facility that’s required, design and build it, plus have plenty of advance time to promote the sale.”