EPILOGUE
Three weeks later
L ATE THAT NIGHT, A SNOWSTORM HAD BLOWN IN, FILLING THE DARKNESS with airy flakes that blanketed the ground like eiderdown. In the parlor of the ranch house, the flames in the fireplace had burned down to glowing coals. On the sofa, Ruby and Mason snuggled beneath a warm quilt, watching the storm through the windows.
Amelia, trailed by Brutus, had gone to bed earlier—without her special tea. Mason had discovered that the so-called “health tea” she’d been buying for years at the Chinese store in Miles City contained a torpor-inducing drug. With the drug’s effects filtering out of her system, her sharpness was returning.
“She’s still going to be a handful,” Ruby teased, resting her head against his shoulder. “I like your mother.”
“Amazingly, I think she likes you, too,” Mason said. “She always wanted me to marry a rich girl. But she’s realized that what this family needs more than money is a woman who can help me run the ranch.” He gave her a playful kiss. “Don’t worry, I’m not putting you to work until after the wedding. Then it’ll be too late for you to quit. But I promise you, we’re going to make something of this place. Even the Calders will envy us.”
She laughed. “That’ll be the day. This is Calder country, and they make sure everybody knows it.”
His arm tightened around her. “I heard from the prison doctor today,” he said. “Piston passed away in the hospital. The fall he took broke his ribs and affected his lungs. He saved my life. But there’s no place for someone like him—a killer as innocent as a child. Most hospitals for the criminally insane are worse than prison these days. I don’t know what waits for us on the other side, but I like to imagine Piston walking through the pearly gates as pure as an angel.”
“At least he’s at peace. So is my father.” Ruby wiped away a tear. She would be a long time mourning the man who’d only wanted to see her happy. “What about Taviani’s secret bootleg whiskey source? Did the feds ever find it?”
“The old man took that secret to his grave,” Mason said. “It doesn’t concern me anymore. I’m giving that cave back to the bats.”
“And what about the airstrip?” she asked.
He looked down at her, frowning. “We haven’t talked about that, have we? I’d never stand in the way of what you want, but if you were to crash and die, my life would be over.”
She smiled. “You can give the airstrip, and your worries, a rest. I can’t promise I’ll never want to fly again. But for now, other things are more important.”
More important than you know . Ruby’s body was sending subtle messages of change—the tenderness in her breasts, the absence of her usual monthly period, the slight nausea. It was too soon to tell Mason. She would wait a few more weeks to be sure the miracle had really happened. Then, if all went well, she would give him a happy surprise.
* * *
Webb Calder was waiting at a table when Blake walked into the restaurant. The lunch hour was busy. Webb had managed to find a quiet corner where they could talk, but his invitation, by telephone, had given Blake no hint of what he had in mind.
Webb rose as Blake approached the table. “Thanks for coming, Blake. Have a seat. Lunch is on me today.”
“I’ll buy my own lunch, thanks.” If Webb wanted a favor, Blake didn’t want to feel obligated. He sat down. Chili was on the menu today. That sounded all right. But damn, he missed having it with a cold beer. From the look of things, Prohibition could last forever.
“I guess you heard about the election,” Webb said as the waitress brought their coffee.
“Yup. Jake’s been a good sheriff, even on wheels. I’m glad the people voted to keep him. But now that he’s married to Britta, he’s got a family to think of. My brother-in-law, Logan, has offered Jake a job managing his horse and cattle operation. Britta and Kristin are friends. Raising their children together would be ideal for both of them.”
“We’d have to find a new schoolmarm.”
“True, but not right away. If Jake takes the ranch job, they’ll be having a home built out there, so they’ll both be in town over the winter, at least. Plenty of time to make up their minds.” Blake seasoned his chili with extra sauce. “But that’s not why you asked me here today. What’s on your mind, Webb?”
“Just something for you to think about.” Webb leaned back in his chair, the rival ranchers sizing each other up like two dominant herd bulls.
“You probably know I’m building an airstrip,” Webb said. “I’ve got a new engineer on the project, and it should be finished next spring.”
“So what’s that got to do with me?” Blake asked.
“Your son, Joseph, came to dinner with Chase a while back. He appeared interested in flying—not just interested, but passionate. He said he hoped to be a pilot.”
Blake’s stomach clenched like a fist.
“Of course, I want to clear this with you before I speak to him. I can tell he’s a bright lad and a fast learner. I’m going to need pilots on the ranch. If you’re willing, I would pay for his training and hire him if he does well. What do you say? Do I have your permission to bring this up to him?”
“Hell, no!” Blake’s fist slammed the tabletop, so hard that it spattered the chili in his bowl.
“Why not?” Webb looked surprised. “I’m offering him a great opportunity. I could tell how much he wants this. It’s his dream. Are you upset because Joseph would be working for a Calder?”
Blake was on his feet. He took a deep breath. “Not so much that,” he said. “But Joseph is the future of my family. If anything were to happen to him, the family wouldn’t continue. I love him, Webb. I can’t give him up. Especially not to you.”
“You’re sure that’s your final decision?” Webb remained seated.
“It is. Thank you for asking me first, but I won’t change my mind. And don’t you dare go behind my back.”
Blake opened his wallet and slapped enough money on the table to pay for both lunches. Then he turned and stalked out the door.
* * *
Joseph stood on the covered porch of the log house on the bluff. The storm had moved on. The land was frosted with silver, and the sky was a glory of stars.
But the beauty of the night was lost on Joseph. Earlier, Blake had laid down the law in no uncertain terms. As long as he lived under the family roof, Joseph would not be allowed to pilot an airplane.
Once he might have thought of leaving. But over the past weeks, he had learned a hard lesson in responsibility. His reckless behavior had robbed a man of his ability to use his legs. Maybe this was a consequence, Joseph thought, a penance for what he had done. True or not, his father was right. The family needed him. Running off to fly planes would be an act of pure selfishness.
So he would plan a life of servitude, like his father’s—a life of sawdust, cow manure, and backbreaking work. And if he had sons one day, he would raise them to do the same.
There had to be something more—something to give him a touch of the joy he’d felt in the air. But maybe he was asking too much. Maybe it was time to give up.
With a sigh, Joseph walked back into the silent parlor, the family asleep, the coals smoldering on the hearth. The portrait of his grandfather, Joe Dollarhide, tall, rugged, and resolute, hung next to the fireplace—except for the eyes, Joseph was growing up in his image. But he was growing up in a different time. Joe Dollarhide had come to Montana with nothing. He had made his start breaking wild horses, married an heiress, and carved his own kingdom on the bluff.
But the wild mustangs were gone from this part of Montana. Joe’s kingdom existed as a financial empire of cattle and lumber. The only challenge was to keep everything running smoothly.
Joseph looked up at the stern face, remembering the man and the vitality that had lingered into his old age. The hunger and ambition that had driven Joe Dollarhide had not been passed on to his son. They could have no place in the heart of his only grandson.
Joseph turned away, went up to his room, and got ready for bed. The day had been emotional. No sooner had his head settled on the pillow than he fell into an exhausted sleep.
The dream came from somewhere deep inside, perhaps from some inherited part of him. Horses—a wild band, thundering across the prairie—bays and blacks, paints, duns, and buckskins, snorting, calling, and tossing their manes.
In the lead, fearless and powerful, was a stallion . . . a magnificent blue roan.