Page 25 of Calder Country

Mason had sold his first shipment of Canadian whiskey. Following phoned directions from Colucci, he had met his buyer on a back road after midnight, transferred the crates from Mason’s horse trailer to the hollowed-out interior of the man’s 1921 Dodge Roadster, and pocketed the cash payment. As a precaution, both men had been wearing hats and been masked with bandannas over the lower parts of their faces. All Mason had seen of his customer was his pale blue eyes and a heavy gold ring in the shape of an eagle.

Hopefully, the sale would be repeated soon, as well as others; but he’d been told that next time the meeting arrangements would be different. That was Colucci’s formula for not getting caught—don’t follow a predictable pattern.

Mason had already ordered his next shipment and put aside most of his profits to pay for it. At this rate, getting rich would take time, and Mason wasn’t a patient man. He wanted bigger shipments and more customers. Colucci, who kept a tight rein on distribution and sales, was starting him out small. Maybe if he called the prison and asked, Julius Taviani would steer more business his way.

Meanwhile, he owed himself a small celebration.

Blue Moon’s only restaurant, known as Jake’s, was not what you’d call high-class. But Jake was a first-rate cook. The food was as good as any you could get in Miles City for double the price. There was also a back room for pool and card games; and the “nieces” Jake employed as waitresses were known to entertain paying guests in their rooms upstairs.

Mason had been so busy improving the cave and airstrip and managing the ranch that he hadn’t spent much time in town. His mother, who almost never left the house, had her groceries delivered, so there wasn’t much excuse for errand running. What he’d needed in the way of tools, hardware, and other supplies, he’d bought in Miles City to avoid suspicion from the locals.

But forget all that. Tonight he was driving into Blue Moon for a steak dinner. Maybe he’d get into a poker game if there was one going on or shoot a few rounds of pool. As for Jake’s girls—he would pass for now. He’d slaked his lust on his last visit to Miles City. The lady had been accomplished, and the encounter had gone all right, but it had been purely physical, leaving him vaguely dissatisfied. Whatever was missing, he wasn’t going to find it upstairs at Jake’s—not even if he tried to picture the haunting face of that beautiful pilot.

As he left the house, he said a dutiful good night to his mother. Amelia seemed indifferent to his comings and goings. Most nights, toward her early bedtime, Sidney would bring her a cup of tea. She would drink it, totter off to bed, and sleep deeply, with her dog lying next to her on the rug, until well after sunup. Mason could guess what might be in the tea, but he didn’t really want to know.

It was in his best interest to keep his mother calm and contented. Now that he’d streamlined the ranch management, keeping stock numbers down and leaving the physical work to two longtime hired cowboys, that was easy enough. As for the money he’d found and replaced in the bank, Amelia had never appeared to notice it was gone. The two of them had settled into a truce of sorts. For now, at least, it didn’t make sense to upset the apple cart.

As he drove into town, he looked forward to putting his cares behind him, enjoying a hearty meal, and maybe a relaxing game of cards. On a Saturday night like this one, Jake’s became the social hub of Blue Moon. Maybe he would run into old friends, or even meet an attractive woman who knew the score.

Jake’s was bustling tonight. Autos, buggies, and even a few saddled horses waited outside the roadhouse, the line extending down the street for nearly a block. Mason saw a battered Model T pull out of a parking spot. He gave the driver room to get clear, then swung into the place next to a classy-looking Dodge Touring Car. Good timing.

He was hoping that his luck would hold, but when he stepped through the door of the restaurant, he saw that all the tables were full. But someone was bound to leave soon. He shouldn’t have long to wait.

He gave his name to the tired-looking waitress, then found a quiet corner to wait. From where he stood, he could see the entire dining room, which had booths around the outside and movable tables in the center. Servers were bustling back and forth between the customers and the kitchen.

Webb Calder sat at a corner booth with two men. One was Webb’s longtime foreman, Nate Moore. The other man, a blonde who sat with his back toward Mason, was unfamiliar.

Webb had a son slightly older than Joseph. Chase—that was his name. The lad hadn’t come to dinner with his father. Maybe he had a girl somewhere. He was old enough to be sowing some wild oats. So was Joseph—and even as Mason thought about his son, he spotted the boy, sitting with his parents at a table across the room.

Over the years, he’d caught occasional glimpses of Hannah—enough to make him aware that she’d matured into a ripe, golden-haired beauty. But he hadn’t spoken to her since the moonlight rendezvous twenty years ago when he’d taken her innocence and left her with his child. He knew better than to speak with her now.

Blake, Mason’s half-brother and childhood playmate, was close to a decade older than his wife. His age showed in the gray at his temples and the weathered creases that framed his eyes. A rugged man—a good man who’d lived a life of hard work and family responsibility. That was more than Mason could say for himself.

Mason stood in plain view of their table, but the three were paying no attention to him. They appeared to be arguing. Their words were lost in the babble of conversation that filled the room. But even from a distance, Mason could sense the tension between them. He knew one possible cause for it—Joseph’s hope for a different future than the one his parents had planned for him. Britta had told him how much the boy wanted to fly—and Mason had witnessed that burning desire for himself. But what about duty to family? What about safety and security? One small mistake, and Joseph could end his promising young life in a plane crash.

Mason’s musings, and the discussion at the Dollarhide table, were both interrupted when Webb Calder and his two companions stood and pushed in their chairs. Webb paused to lay several bills on the table. Then, with the two men following, he led the way out of the dining room.

They didn’t appear to notice Mason, although they passed near to him on their way out. Mason couldn’t help noticing how they walked—like lords, confident of their power and their places at the top of the social order. Webb led the way, head high, people moving out of his way. Nate Moore followed his lifelong boss. Mason caught a clear view of the third man—a stranger with a well-groomed moustache and striking, pale eyes.

When the man reached up to brush a fly from his ear, Mason noticed the heavy gold ring on his right-hand middle finger—a ring in the shape of an eagle with outspread wings.

Mason’s reflexes went cold as he remembered the Dodge Touring Car next to where he’d parked outside. There could be no mistake—this was the man who’d bought his first shipment of Canadian whiskey. And he appeared to be working with Webb Calder.

Blake had turned in his chair and was glaring, not at the Calder party but at his brother. As Mason stood his ground, Blake rose and wove his way through the crowded tables. Reaching Mason, he muttered one word.

“Outside.”

Mason followed him out through the door, onto the boardwalk. He’d known that a confrontation between the two brothers was bound to happen. This wasn’t the time or place he’d have chosen, but it was what it was—and he had as much right to be here as Blake did.

As they stepped into the shadows, Blake turned on him. “I was hoping you wouldn’t have the nerve to come back here.”

“This is my home, Blake. My ranch is here. My mother is here. And I’ve paid my debt to society. This is where I belong. So you might as well get used to the idea.”

“I figured you’d say something like that. So there’s just one thing I’ve got to tell you. Leave my family alone—especially my son, and don’t think for a minute that he’ll ever be yours. Five years ago, you almost got him arrested, or worse. You were making him into a criminal—and you didn’t even care.”

“Would you believe me if I said I was sorry? Of all the things I did, and paid for, exposing those boys to danger is the one I regret most.”

“Regret wouldn’t matter if you’d gotten them killed.” His eyes burned into Mason’s. “I’m only going to say this once. If you try to speak with my son or put any of your wild ideas into his head, so help me, I’ll have you tarred and feathered. And the whole town, even the Calders, will help me run you out on a rail. Do you understand?”

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