Calder Storm (38 page)

“Thanks, Ed,” Jessy said. “Keep in touch.”

“You'll be the first to know anything I do,” he promised and hung up.

A heavy silence followed, weighted by all the questions that remained unanswered. Pushed by the edgy impatience swirling through him, Trey swung away from the desk and headed for the door. “I can't wait around here all day for the phone to ring.”

“Stay right here at headquarters. And make sure your cell phone's on.” Jessy told him

“I will.” The grudging agreement was issued as he walked out the door. Laredo stared after him a moment, then glanced at Jessy, one eyebrow lifting. “If there was ever anyone who needed to chop some wood, it's Trey.”

“I know,” Jessy said and sighed. The sound had the same troubled edge to it that was in her son's eyes.

T
he sleek executive jet streaked above a scattering of clouds, its heading set on a northerly course. Inside the gleaming chrome-and wood-adorned cabin, Max occupied his time by reviewing a raft of monthly reports, dictating correspondence, and placing a few phone calls. Yet his thoughts never strayed far from the race he was in.

Somewhere behind him stood the Colorado Rockies, and twenty-odd thousand feet below him the broken plains of Wyoming. Just ahead was Montana. With each mile, his tension grew. Defeat was something Max refused to acknowledge, even now, when time and distance were against him. His plan was too perfect; he wasn't about to abandon it until all hope of success ran out.

In front of him, the cockpit door swung open and the shirtsleeved copilot stepped through and made eye contact with Rutledge.

“Sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Rutledge.” A bob of his head accompanied the apology.

Immediately sensing the man had something of importance to tell him, Max stiffened, bracing himself for bad news. “What is it?” he said brusquely.

“We copied a transmission from the aircraft with the call let
ters you gave us. The pilot advised Air Traffic Control that he was experiencing electrical problems and intended to land at an airstrip adjacent to an abandoned open-pit mine about a mile south of Blue Moon.”

Alarm raced through Max. “They're making an emergency landing?” Images flashed through his mind of the plane crashing and bursting into flames, killing everyone on board and eliminating his chance of seizing control of the Calder empire through the child.

The copilot shook his head. “He never declared an emergency, sir. It seemed to be a precautionary measure. The pilot did say he had a registered mechanic on board. I got the impression he didn't want to risk an electrical problem escalating into a crisis. That can happen in these high-tech birds.”

Max smiled at the unexpected opportunity that had just been given him. “How far ahead are they?”

“Roughly fifteen or twenty minutes.”

“We'll land at the same airstrip and offer our assistance to their passengers.” A smug calm settled over him.

“Yes sir.”

Turning, the copilot headed back to the cockpit. Max waited until the door closed behind the man, then picked up the phone and placed a call.

After the fourth ring, Donovan's voice spoke in his ear. “What do you need?”

“You,” Max replied. “A plane is about to land at Dy-Corp's old runway. Sloan's onboard with the baby—”

“Sloan?! What's she doing coming back here now?”

“That's not something you need to know,” Max retorted. “Your job is to get down there and make sure she doesn't connect with Calders before I arrive.”

“You're on your way here? To Montana?” Donovan repeated in a stunned voice.

“Isn't that what I just said?” Rutledge snapped in impatience. “I should be there in fifteen minutes. And don't let Sloan see you.
I don't want her raising any alarm that might bring a lot of unwanted witnesses.”

“I'll take care of it. Just a sec.” There was a slight pause. “I think I hear a plane.”

“Then get moving.”

 

The cabin attendant was the first to come down the airplane's steps, Sloan's bag slung over his shoulder. At the bottom, he turned and offered an assisting hand to Tara. Sloan followed, carrying Jake in her arms, a corner of his blanket covering his face. A gust of wind flipped it off, exposing him to the sun's full glare.

“Hand the baby to me.” Tara reached to take him when Sloan paused to cover his face.

“I can manage,” Sloan assured her and descended the last few steps.

Shielding her own eyes from the sun and blowing dust, Tara looked around, making no attempt to disguise her irritation. “It was absolute nonsense to land here when we were so close to the ranch.”

It was a protest she had voiced numerous times since being informed of the pilot's decision, often enough that neither the cabin attendant nor Sloan bothered to comment on her complaint. Instead the attendant gestured in the direction of an open metal hangar a short distance away. “You can get shelter from the wind and dust over here.”

“I am not about to wait around in a drafty old hangar while the repairs are being made,” Tara informed him and opened her slim black handbag.

“I'm sorry, Mrs. Calder,” he began with tested patience, “but as I explained, it's going to get too stuffy on the plane with all the onboard systems shut down.”

“Fine. But I am not waiting in that hangar when there is a perfectly good office building over there. As I recall, when I stopped
here last spring, there was still an old chair in the lobby. We'll wait there.” She unzipped a small compartment inside her purse.

“It's bound to be locked, Mrs.—”

Tara held up a solid gold key. “Not a problem,” she replied. “I have a master to all the Dy-Corp properties. It was one of the last things my daddy gave me. I always carry it with me. Now, go fetch my sable in case it turns cooler.”

“And a cell phone, if anyone has one,” Sloan added.

“I have one in my flight bag,” the attendant told her and ran lightly up the steps into the cabin.

“Let's get the baby inside.” Tara's hand urged Sloan toward the single-story building with dust-caked windowpanes “It'll be a bit dusty in there, but it's better than standing out here.”

A double set of locks was on the front door. Tara had no difficulty opening either of them. The hinges creaked from disuse when she pulled the door open and held it for Sloan.

Her footsteps echoed through the building, adding to its empty feel when Sloan entered. The sun's hot rays had invaded the small lobby area and removed any lingering chill from the air.

Along one wall sat a vinyl-covered settee with a chair angled toward it, its upholstery ripped along the backrest and on the seat. The only other item of furniture was a low table with one leg partially collapsed under it, canting its surface at a drunken angle.

Completing a critical survey of the area, Tara released a dramatic sigh. “I should have told Daniel, or Kirk, whatever his name is, to bring something to dust off this furniture.”

“I have something in my bag we can use,” Sloan replied.

“It's a pity you weren't here when the mine was in operation,” Tara declared and launched into a lengthy narrative about the tonnage it produced, the people it employed, and the many benefits it brought to Blue Moon.

Sloan barely listened as she wandered about the small space, nerves on edge with the anticipation of her coming meeting with Trey, trying to guess what he would say and what she should answer.

“What is keeping him?” Tara's forceful demand was riddled
with exasperation. “How long does it take to fetch one coat and a cell phone?”

“Longer than we thought, obviously,” Sloan murmured. “Or maybe it just seems long.”

“It's been a good five minutes at least.” Impatient, Tara crossed to the door and pushed it open, then paused, her stiff posture relaxing a little. “Here he comes now.” She stayed at the door, holding it open for the young attendant loping toward the building.

With a sideways turn of his body, he slipped through the opening and halted, letting the bag strap slide off his shoulder and lowering the soft-sided tote to the floor. “Here you go.” He handed the sable coat to Tara and pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. “I had to borrow the pilot's. The battery was low on mine.”

“Thanks.” Sloan shifted her hold on the baby, freeing a hand to take the phone from him.

“You dallied all that time just to borrow a phone?” Rebuke was in the cool look Tara gave him.

“Actually, I was waiting to make sure the mechanic could get the part he needed,” he replied.

“What part? What are you talking about?” Tara demanded.

“There's a part he needs before he can get things working right again. It's okay, though. It's on its way from Miles City,” he assured her.

“Someone's flying it here?” she said in surprise.

“No, it's coming by courier.”

“But it's a good two-hour drive from Miles City,” Tara protested.

“At least they had the part in stock,” he reminded her. “Anyway, I'm supposed to hike to that gas station up the road and wait for the courier to arrive with the part. The pilot thought that would be easier than trying to explain how to get here, especially when the gate's padlocked. Would you like me to see if I can rent or borrow somebody's car and come back here for you?”

Sloan never let Tara answer. “No! Absolutely not.”

“Surely you don't want to stay here for two hours, do you?” Tara looked at Sloan as if she'd taken leave of her senses.

“If that's how long it takes, then yes,” Sloan answered without hesitation, Turning to the attendant, sah said, “And I don't want you to tell anyone that we're here. Do you understand? Absolutely no one.”

He shot a quick glance at Tara to make sure she had no problem with that. By then Tara had guessed the reason for Sloan's request. “Sloan's right. Under no circumstances admit that anyone other than crew was onboard the plane.”

“Yes ma'am. I won't say a word,” he promised and stepped to the door. “I'll be back as soon as the part gets here.”

Alone again, Tara turned to Sloan. “That was quick thinking,” she said in approval. “It had slipped my mind that Max has someone in Blue Moon working for him, and that person certainly doesn't need to know we're here.”

“That's what I thought,” Sloan replied, then asked, “Would you hold Jake while I call Trey?”

“Are you sure you don't want me to talk to him first?” Yet Tara was already reaching to gather the baby into her arms.

“I think it's better if I do.” Sloan relinquished her son into Tara's care.

 

Emerging from the ranch office, Trey automatically let his glance sweep the yard and its buildings, then reach beyond it to the wide plains and its winter-brown grass. The barren look of the land suited his mood.

The honk of a horn dragged his attention to an approaching pickup. When it rolled to a stop near him, Tank's head emerged from the driver's-side window. “Thought you'd want to know we got trouble at the foaling barn. Looks like we might lose both that dun mare and her colt.”

Without waiting for a response, he drove off. Trey stood there a moment, knowing he should go lend a hand if he could. The decision was taken from him when the cell phone vibrated in his pocket.

Half irritated, he answered it, certain it was one of the other
hands at the foaling barn, calling to tell him of the problem there. “Yeah, what is it?”

“Trey. It's Sloan.”

With an effort, Trey hardened himself against the pull of her voice. “What do you want, Sloan?” The dry demand was anything but friendly.

“You were right about Max. He's been behind everything that happened. Even now he's arranging for you to be arrested on charges of drug possession.”

“Is that a fact?” he countered with disinterest. Even though she had gotten his attention, Trey was wary of believing anything she said.

“It's true. I swear it, Trey.”

“I appreciate the warning—if that's what it is.”

“I don't know why I bothered to tell you that.” There was a note of defeat in her voice. “It isn't why I called. Look, this morning I managed to slip away from the guards that Max had watching me. I made it to Tara's with Jake.”

The instant she mentioned Tara, Trey turned and headed back to the ranch office.

“We were on our way to the Triple C when something malfunctioned on the plane,” Sloan continued, “and we had to land here at the old coal pit outside of Blue Moon. It's going to take another two hours before it's fixed. Please. Can you come get us?”

As she finished, Trey pushed open the door to Jessy's private office and walked in, signaling to both her and Laredo. Caution made him ask, “Is this some kind of trap, Sloan?”

“No, it's a call for help. But don't take my word for it. Ask Tara.”

The pause following Sloan's faintly annoyed statement was a small one. “Really, Trey, you need to stop being so hardheaded and listen to Sloan. Every word she said is the truth,” Tara informed him most insistently.

“Where are you, Tara?” His use of her name was deliberate, intended to alert his mother and Laredo.

“In the lobby of the old Dy-Corp office at the coal pit. It's dusty and awful—and certainly no place for your son to be.”

“Then you do have Jake with you?” Trey wanted that confirmed as well.

“Yes, we do. Don't we, sweetie,” Tara cooed, obviously to the baby.

“Tell Sloan I'm on my way.”

“What's up?” Laredo asked the instant Trey closed the cell phone.