Page 13 of Calder Country

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Mason had stayed, watching from his car, until the plane carrying Joseph had landed safely. Only then did he crank the engine to a sputtering start and head back to the ranch. He was proud of his son. Joseph had shown daring and determination when it came to getting what he wanted. Mason possessed those same qualities. He liked to think that he might’ve passed them on to the boy, along with his striking green eyes.

What if things had been different? What if, instead of skipping town at his mother’s urging, he’d remained in Blue Moon, married sweet Hannah, and stayed to raise a family?

But that choice would have been a mistake. He would have ended up feeling trapped and frustrated; and he would have passed his discontent on to his wife and children. He’d done Hannah a favor, leaving her to be rescued by dull, reliable, duty-bound Blake. And he’d done Joseph a favor, too, giving him a secure childhood in the heart of the Dollarhide family.

Still, he couldn’t help wondering how things might have been. And he couldn’t deny a subtle yearning for what he would never have. But the past was gone and couldn’t be changed. All that mattered now was the future. And that future was in his hands.

The ranch house was quiet except for a line of laundry flapping behind the house in the afternoon breeze. He’d noticed a newfangled electric washing machine on the screen porch off the kitchen. But who was doing the laundry remained a question. Except for his mother, Mason had yet to see a woman about the place. Was Sidney, the elderly butler, also doing the wash?

It would be worth his time to learn more about the household routine and the person or persons doing the work around the place. If he planned to be moving crates of bootleg liquor, he would need absolute secrecy. But he would also need to maintain the appearance of a normal, working ranch.

Maybe what he needed was a secret place, away from the house and outbuildings, to carry on his business. He recalled finding the entrance to a cave near the south boundary. He’d discovered it as a boy, but after hearing animal sounds from inside, he’d run away and never returned to the spot.

The place was worth checking again. But until he got control of the money from the ranch account, his hands would be tied.

As he parked in the shed and climbed out of the Model T, his mother’s big mastiff came around the house. Its old age was evident in its gait and its white-haired muzzle, but Mason knew that it still had teeth. Seeing him, it stopped a stone’s toss away and growled a warning. Then, as if in pure contempt, it lifted its leg on the front tire of the car before trotting away.

Mason cursed. Damned dog. He didn’t even know its name or the name of its departed brother, but his mother had loved those two ugly mutts. Probably more than she’d ever loved him.

Reminding himself to have a look at the Model T’s engine before driving the auto again, Mason entered the house through the kitchen door. He found Sidney at the counter, cutting crustless egg salad sandwiches into precise triangles.

“Have you eaten, Mr. Dollarhide?” the elderly butler asked. “I’ll be glad to make an extra sandwich or two. Your mother likes to lunch late. Tea time, she calls it.” The old man was more relaxed and talkative here than in Amelia’s presence, where he behaved more like an actor cast in the traditional butler’s role.

“Thanks, but I’m fine for now.” What Mason really wanted was dinner in town with one of Jake’s rare beefsteaks. And maybe a big slab of apple pie for dessert. But his advance from the bank was all but gone.

“We’ve got some bottled sarsaparilla in the icebox,” Sidney said. “Now that you’re home, maybe you can talk Mrs. Dollarhide into buying one of those new electric refrigerators. I’ve seen them in town. They do a dandy job of keeping things cold. I hear that Webb Calder ordered a whole truckload of them for the Triple C.”

Webb Calder again—a man rich enough to own anything he wants. Airplanes and even refrigerators.

A man like that was easy to hate.

“Tell me what my mother did with the money from the bank account, and I’ll buy you a new refrigerator tomorrow. Hell, I’ll replace the whole kitchen.”

The old man shook his head. “Even if I knew—and I don’t—I would never betray Mrs. Dollarhide’s confidence. I’m afraid you’re on your own.”

Mason stepped aside as the dog padded into the kitchen. Passing Mason, it snarled, showing jagged fangs. It passed through Mason’s mind that he could threaten to shoot the dog if his mother didn’t give him access to the money. But Amelia was smart enough to recognize a useless threat. As things stood, he had two choices—win his mother’s trust, which would take time, or find the money himself.

The surest approach would be to try both.

The dog went to a bowl of table scraps in the corner of the kitchen and chuffed down the food. “We used to feed him on the back porch,” Sidney said. “But the coyotes started stealing his food. He was too old and slow to catch them.”

“My mother had two dogs when I was here before,” Mason said, making conversation. “What happened to the other one?”

Sidney arranged the sandwiches on a china plate. “He just got old. We found him dead on the porch one morning last year. Your mother was fit to be tied. She mourned him like he was her own child. She even buried him in the family cemetery, next to the place she’s laid out for herself.”

“What about this dog? Weren’t they brothers?”

“That’s right. I don’t suppose old Brutus here will last much longer. Mrs. Dollarhide had both their names carved into the headstone—Brutus and Cassius, like in Shakespeare’s play.” He picked up the plate, adding a napkin and a glass of cold tea, which he balanced between his large, immaculate hands. “I’m glad you’ve come back, Mr. Dollarhide. Your mother’s a strong woman, but she’s getting on, and she needs you to step in and manage the ranch. You can see how it’s all gone downhill, most of the cattle sold, the pastures gone to weed, the fences and sheds falling down. You’ll have your work cut out for you.” He gave Mason a sharp glance. “I do hope you plan to stay around this time.”

The old man would know, of course, that Mason had been in prison. What the words implied was the hope that he didn’t plan any illegal activities that would land him behind bars again. But what the butler didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. And Mason had learned his lesson. This time he would do everything right.

* * *

After the air show, Ruby and her father had flown back to the outskirts of Miles City, where there was a small airport with a runway and a secure enclosure for the plane. They’d taken a taxi back to the Olive Hotel in town, where they’d left their extra luggage at the desk.

Ruby would’ve been happy to settle for a light supper in her room, a warm bath, and an early bedtime. But Art had other plans. His new “business associates” would be meeting him at dinner. Ruby would need to be there, too.

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