Shifting Calder Wind by Janet Dailey Read Free Book Online

do you mean?” Hattie frowned.
    “Laredo said you have a small ranch. Is it a cow-and-calf outfit?”
    “Do you know something about a cow-calf operation?” She studied him closely, her dark eyes bright with interest.
    He thought about that a minute. “I guess I do.”
    “Those cowboy boots aren’t just for show, then,” Hattie observed before answering his original question. “In my position, I can’t really afford the financial risk that goes with ranching. I need an income that is a bit more reliable. I worked a deal with a local rancher to run his cattle on my place. He pays me rent for the pasture and labor costs for looking after his stock as well as reimburses me for any hay or feed.”
    “It’s not an uncommon arrangement. I understand quite a few small ranchers are opting for deals like that. It’s a bit like sharecropping in the old days,” he heard himself say. He didn’t understand how he could have knowledge of such things yet no recollection of his personal identity.
    “It keeps the wolves away from the door,” Hattie replied.
    “The financial kind, anyway,” he said with a knowing smile.
    “Why, Duke, I do believe you are flirting with me.” Hattie mocked, but it didn’t mask the pleased look in her eyes, a look that hinted at her interest in him.
    A dog barked outside, sounding an alarm as a vehicle approached. Rising from her chair, Hattie glanced out the window. The barking turned to excited yelps.
    “Laredo is back,” she announced.
    A new tension gripped him, heightening his senses. Each sound from outside came sharply to him—the crunch of tires on gravel, the sputter of a dying engine, the slam of the cab door, and the approach of footsteps to the rear door. Unwilling to betray his eagerness to hear the results of Laredo’s investigation, he didn’t look up when the cowboy walked into the kitchen.
    “You’re up. That’s means I won’t have to wake you.” Laredo crossed to the table, tossed a newspaper on top of it, pulled out a chair, swung it around, and straddled it.
    “Did you have any luck?” He pushed his plate away and leaned back in his chair, reaching for his coffee cup.
    “You could say that.” Steady blue eyes held his gaze. “I located a bellman who remembered you, said your name was Chase Calder. Unfortunately, according to the morning paper”—Laredo gave it a push toward him—“you’re dead, killed in a car crash the night before last.”
    He picked up the paper, but the type was blurred. He extended his arm, trying to bring it into focus.
    “Need some reading glasses, do you,” Hattie guessed, rising from her chair. “I’ll get you a pair of mine. They might be the right strength.”
    Questions buzzed in his head, but he held his silence until he read the article. Hattie’s glasses worked well enough to allow him to see the print. The write-up was a small one, between two and three inches long. Its length was mostly due to the identity of the victim in this particular traffic accident. Even then there were few facts to glean from it, merely that the deceased was Chase Calder, owner of the Triple C Ranch in eastern Montana.
    “Chase Calder.” He spoke the name, but it had no more meaning to him than if he had said John Doe. He set the paper aside and laid the glasses on top of it. Hattie picked up both.
    “Do you remember anything at all about the man who robbed you?” Laredo studied him thoughtfully.
    “No. I only remember you telling me that you saw a man holding me up. My memory starts with the slam of a car door, gunshots, and a vehicle peeling out.”
    “That was your holdup man, making his getaway as fast as he could,” Laredo stated, “taking with him your wallet with its identification and driving the car you rented. He even managed to wind up with the key to your hotel room.”
    “It’s also possible the victim was Chase Calder.”
    “It’s possible,” Laredo conceded. “But I don’t believe it. That article in the paper