Chapter Eleven
Saturdays always brought a change in atmosphere
at the Triple C, tingeing the air with an underlying crackle of
excitement. Routines were altered. There was a slight spring in the
step of those still on duty, and a hustle and bustle in the others,
eager to get the odd tasks done so they could head into Blue Moon
for a night on the town.
Standing at the top of the veranda
steps, Chase felt the familiar pull of it and remembered the day
when he had been as eager as the next cowboy to whoop it up after a
hard, long week in the saddle. These last years since Maggie died,
Saturdays hadn’t been different than any other days for him. He
just couldn’t summon the old enthusiasm for a night
out.
There was a time when he would have
gone to town a couple times a week to check on Sally. Since she’d
sold the restaurant and moved to the Triple C, he didn’t have a
reason to go anymore. A dry smile tugged at a corner of his mouth
as it occurred to him that he was the only one who felt the
way.
Chase swung away from the view of the
ranch headquarters and went back inside. “Sally!” he boomed her
name. “Sally!”
“I’m in the kitchen.” Her shouted
answer rang above the squeals and giggles of the
twins.
“She is always in the kitchen,” Chase
muttered to himself and set out in its direction at a hobble, his
arthritis acting up again.
When he walked into the kitchen, young
Trey was struggling to climb out of the playpen while little Laura
sat contentedly in the middle of it, playing with one of their
toys. Jessy was busy sweeping the floor. Sally turned from the
countertop, a white-speckled roaster pan in her hands.
“What did you need, Chase?” Sally
questioned with mild interest.
Ignoring the question, he frowned and
asked, “What’s that in your hands?”
“A roast for tonight’s dinner.
Why?”
“Let me have that.” He limped over to
take it from her. Sally immediately hurried to the oven to open the
door for him, but Chase walked over to the refrigerator
instead.
“What are you doing, Chase?” Sally
stared at him with a dumbfounded look.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” he
retorted and opened the refrigerator door. “I’m putting this away.
I’m taking you out to dinner tonight. It is time you ate somebody’s
cooking other than your own.” The look of pleasure that leaped into
her face made Chase wish he had thought of doing this before. “You
want to go out, don’t you?” he challenged, a smile taking all the
gruffness out of his voice.
“Of course, I do.” The corners of her
mouth deepened in a smile that chided him for suggesting otherwise.
“But I still have to put that roast in the oven so Ty and Jessy
will have something to eat tonight.”
“If they want a roast for dinner, they
can fix it themselves.” Chase immediately set about making space
for the long roaster pan in the oven. “For all you know, they just
might decide to eat in town, too.”
“Which shows how much you know,” Sally
retorted. “Jessy’s parents are playing cards with the Trumbos
tonight. There’s no one to baby-sit the twins.”
“And what is stopping them from
bringing the twins along?” Chase countered. “It’s time they were
taking them out and getting them around strangers. They need to
learn how to behave in public sometime. Why couldn’t they start
tonight?”
“Chase Calder, you know how raucous
that place is on Saturday night. It will be packed with people, the
jukebox blaring—”
Before Sally could complete her list,
Chase interrupted, “You never know. All the commotion might keep
them entertained. Isn’t that right, Jessy?”
Up to then, Jessy had stayed out of
their conversation, preferring to be a fly on the wall while the
two of them squabbled like an old married couple. Now Chase had
drawn her into it.
“They are old enough now that they
probably would enjoy it,” she agreed. “Trey would certainly be
intrigued by all the action, and Laura would be fascinated by the
music and dancing. But I don’t think we’ll go. You two deserve an
evening without the twins underfoot.”
Startled by the inference that this was
a date of sorts, Sally darted an anxious look at Chase. She had
known him too long to believe there was anything romantic behind
his invitation. And she was reluctant to have him think she
might.
“That’s nonsense, Jessy,” she rushed in
protest. “We wouldn’t mind in the least. Would we,
Chase?”
“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I did.
We will make it a family night out,” he concluded.
“That sounds fun.” The more Jessy
thought about it, the more it appealed to her. Lately she and Ty
had been bickering a lot. A night out, away from the ranch, might
be good for both of them.
The restaurant and bar, formerly owned
by Sally, had been repainted a dark brown that was already dulled
by a coat of dust. Newly mounted atop its porch roof was a huge
neon sign that spelled out the letters HARRY’S
HIDEAWAY in fluorescent green.
The summer sun had yet to set in the
evening sky, but already the parking lot was full when they
arrived. Stopping in the driveway, Ty let the others out, then
headed across the highway to park at Fedderson’s combination gas
station, grocery store, and post office.
Pausing near the base of the entrance
steps, Chase surveyed the long, green-glowing sign and snorted his
disgust. “Harry’s Hideaway. It doesn’t look to me like a place to
hide. I’ll bet you can see the glow of that sign in Miles
City.”
Laura had a different opinion as she
stared up at the bright letters. She pointed a finger at them and
jabbered excitedly to Jessy, her expression all
alight.
“Laura seems to like it,” Jessy
remarked with a smile.
Chase slanted a sideways glance at his
granddaughter and muttered, “Sometimes I wonder about that child’s
taste.”
Jessy had only to recall how fascinated
Laura was with Tara to agree with him. “My mom says she’s at that
age where she’s fascinated by anything bright and
shiny.”
“That sign is definitely on the gawdy
side of that,” Chase declared and glanced at the young boy hooked
in his arm. “Don’t you agree, Trey?”
But Trey’s entire attention was focused
on the building’s entrance and the steady hum of voices and muffled
blare of music that emanated from it.
“Come on. Let’s go in.” Chase signaled
for the women to precede him.
“As crowded as it is, we may be in for
a long wait to get a table,” Sally murmured worriedly.
“We’d better not. I called ahead to
reserve one,” Chase stated.
A cacophony of noise greeted them when
they walked inside. Interspersed with the steady chatter of voices
were hoots of laughter, and the clink and clatter of dishes and
drinks. A honky-tonk song played on the jukebox, its volume cranked
as high as it would go. From the bar side came the crack of a cue ball and the rumble of billiard balls
rattling across the pool table’s slate surface.
The establishment’s new owner and
namesake, Harry Weldon, pumped Chase’s hand in greeting. He was a
barrel-chested man with an apron tied around his middle and sweat
running down his flushed face.
“It’s crazy in here tonight, but it’s
always like that on Saturday nights now. You can’t stir ’em with a
stick,” he said with considerable pride, nearly shouting to make
himself heard above the noise. “Your table will be ready in two
seconds.”
The two seconds were closer to two
minutes. By the time Harry Weldon returned, Ty had joined them and
taken a squirming Trey from Chase’s arms. The toddler’s head was on
a swivel, straining to see everything at once.
“I got ya’ a table fixed up over here
in the corner.” Plastic-coated menus in hand, Harry started in that
direction, parting a path through the crowd and glancing over his
shoulder. “Sorry it took so long. I had to get another keg from the
back.”
A soft shoulder bumped into Ty from
behind. “Whoops, sorry,” a female voice said. Ty looked back and
saw a familiar face among the throng of strangers. It belonged to a
Trumbo girl, Emily, the youngest. She recognized him at the same
moment. “Ty. I didn’t expect to run into you here, literally. I’m
afraid I wasn’t looking where I was going. I was too busy giving
Dick a hard time.”
His glance flicked to the man behind
her and encountered Ballard’s cool blue eyes. Ty knew it was
logical that Ballard would be here tonight. It was the only
watering hole for miles, making it the natural gathering point for
both sexes on a Saturday night. But the realization came as an
afterthought.
Emily Trumbo didn’t appear to notice
the sudden temperature drop as she continued talking. “Tell him
what you told me, Dick,” she urged, then jumped in when he didn’t
immediately respond. “He claims he saw a helicopter flying over the
ranch on his way into town. I have never seen a helicopter except
in the movies. And he says there was one flying over the Triple C.
Can you believe it?”
Eyes narrowing at the possible
significance of the sighting, Ty pinned his gaze on Ballard. “What
kind of helicopter? Military or private?”
“It was too far away to tell. It could
have been either.”
“Where was it when you spotted it?” Ty
had to raise his voice to make himself heard above the
din.
“Northeast of the road,” Ballard all
but shouted his answer.
“Near Wolf Meadow?”
“That general area,” Ballard
confirmed.
“Which way was it headed?”
“On an easterly course.”
“Toward Blue Moon?”
“Maybe.” Then Ballard asked the
question that was on Ty’s mind. “Does Dy-Corp have a helicopter
here?”
“I don’t know.” But he knew it wouldn’t
be hard to find out.
“Do you really think Dy-Corp has a
helicopter?” Excited by the thought, Emily turned to Ballard. “I
know a guy who works there. Maybe he could get me a ride on it.
Wouldn’t that be something?”
“Really something,” Ballard assured
her, then turned her back around. “We’re headed for the dance
floor, remember.”
“Right.” But as she moved past Ty, she
was already craning her head trying to see above the crowd. “I
wonder if Rick’s here tonight.”
By the time Ty worked his way through
the crowd to the corner table, the others were already seated.
After he had Trey buckled in the high chair, Ty relayed the
information about the helicopter.
“Even if it wasn’t military, it still
might have been a government helicopter, state or federal,” Sally
suggested in an attempt to chase away the cloud that suddenly hung
over their table.
“It’s possible,” Chase conceded. “But
logic tells me differently. I can only think of one person with
reason to fly over that section of the ranch, and that would be the
new owner of it. They were bound to show up sooner or later. And I
certainly didn’t expect them to drive up to The Homestead and
introduce themselves.”
“You keep saying ‘they,’” Jessy
inserted. “You are convinced it’s Dy-Corp, aren’t
you?”
“Let’s put it this way,” Chase replied.
“Dy-Corp knows we aren’t going to let them cross our land to get to
the Wolf Meadow range. Their only access to it is by air. And
nobody else in the area is likely to have a helicopter other than
the government or military.”
“I know they want the coal on that
land, but what good is it to them?” That was the part Jessy had
trouble understanding. “They can’t get their mining equipment in,
or the coal out.”
“They have something up their sleeves.
You can bet on it.” Chase opened the plastic-covered menu and
squinted at the small type.
Ty spoke up. “I’ll pass the word
tomorrow for everybody to keep a lookout for any more helicopters
in the area. Maybe next time we’ll get lucky and get an aircraft
identification number—assuming there is a next time. Meanwhile we
need to find out whether Dy-Corp owns a helicopter.”
“Or leases one,” Chase added, then
frowned and looked up. “Aren’t there any barbeque ribs on this
menu?”
“Right there.” Sally pointed to them,
relieved by the change of subject.
“That’s what I’ll have.” He folded the
menu shut and pushed it onto the table. “Although I doubt they will
be as tasty and tender as the ones you make.”
It was the warm look he gave her more
than the praise for her cooking that had Sally glowing like a
schoolgirl. But Jessy had little time to dwell on it as Trey let
out a gleeful shriek and struggled to get out of the high chair.
She reached to push him back in his seat just as the cause of
excitement ran up to the chair.
“Hi, Trey. I didn’t know you were going
to be here tonight,” Quint declared.
Cat and Logan were only a few steps
behind him. Chase leaned back in his chair, his surprise quickly
giving way to pleasure at the sight of his daughter and her
family.
“Look who’s here,” he declared and
immediately began issuing orders. “Pull that table over here and
join us. We might as well make this a night out for the whole
family.”
After the initial confusion of moving
tables and chairs, shifting positions, and everyone sitting down,
Ty wasted no time mentioning the helicopter to Logan and their
suspicion that it belonged to Dy-Corp.
“Unless it flew in today, Dy-Corp
doesn’t have a helicopter based here in Blue Moon,” Logan stated.
“But that doesn’t mean they couldn’t have chartered one from the
copter service in Miles City. I’ll ask around and see what I can
find out. Unofficially, of course.”
“I would appreciate that,” Chase
acknowledged.
“No more ranch talk,” Cat decreed then
grinned. “At least not the business end.” Green eyes twinkling, she
glanced at Jessy. “I planned to call you later tonight. I’m flying
to Dallas next weekend and I thought you might like to come with
me.”
“Dallas?” Jessy wasn’t sure which
surprised her more—that Cat was going to Dallas or that she wanted
her to go along.
“What’s in Dallas?” Chase frowned at
his daughter.
Logan inserted dryly, “Out of two
closets full of clothes, she can’t find a thing to
wear.”
“That’s not true. I have plenty of
clothes. I just don’t have a knock-’em-out-of-their-boots outfit to
wear to the auction,” Cat explained to all then redirected her
attention to Jessy. “I know you plan on buying something new for
it. I thought we could shop together. It’s a lot more fun that
way.”
“Yes, but—I was just going to pick
something up in Miles City.” The idea of flying all the way to
Dallas to shop struck Jessy as totally unnecessary.
“Believe me, Jess, you aren’t going to
find what you need in Miles City,” Cat advised as the waitress
arrived, balancing a tray loaded with water glasses. “Initially I
considered going to Denver since it’s closer, but I’m much more
familiar with the shops in Dallas and Fort Worth.”
“As much as I hate to admit it”—Ty
paused to hold Trey’s hand when he made a grab for one of the
glasses—“my sister is right. You won’t find high fashion in Miles
City. For that, you’ll have to shop somewhere else.”
“I suppose,” Jessy conceded, but inside
she was screaming at the very idea. All this talk about projecting
the proper image and creating the right impression went against the
grain and smacked of phoniness. As far as Jessy was concerned, she
was who and what she was and everyone else was welcome to take it
or leave it.
Besides, “high fashion” was a term she
equated with Tara, not herself. Never herself.
“Then you will come with me?” Cat
pressed for a more definite answer.
“Of course she’ll go,” Chase answered
for her, then added, “A couple days away from the ranch and the
twins will do you good.”
It wasn’t in Jessy’s nature to be
anything less than candid. “I can’t imagine anything more painful
than going from store to store trying on clothes. And I’m telling
you right now, I am not wearing a dress or putting on makeup for
this affair. It’s an auction, for heaven’s sake.”
Smiling, Ty eyed his wife with a
mixture of amusement and appreciation then glanced at Cat. “You
have your work cut out for you on this trip, sis.”
“I’m not one bit worried.” She spoke
with confidence. “They are making some fabulous Western clothes
these days. We’ll find the perfect outfit. Wait and
see.”
Slapping her order pad on the tray and
clicking her ballpoint pen, the waitress broke into their
conversation, “Anybody ready to order?”
She went around the long table, writing
down each one’s food and drink order until she came to Chase. “You
aren’t going to like those ribs, Mr. Calder.” The pen remained
poised above the pad. “They are dry and tough. Why don’t you have a
steak instead?”
“Make it well done.”
“I’ll see that the cook burns it,” she
promised with an emphatic nod. Once all their orders were taken,
she closed the book and slipped it inside her roomy apron pocket.
“I’ll be right back with your drinks. The food’s another story.
It’s crazy in that kitchen,” she warned, already moving away from
the table.
Quint patted Logan’s arm in an
attention-getting gesture. “Dad, is it all right if I go watch them
play pool?”
Logan glanced at his wristwatch. “It
shouldn’t be too rowdy over there yet. You can go, but only for a
little while.”
“Thanks.” Quint flashed him a rare
smile and scooted off his chair, intent on reaching the bar’s
billiard area as fast as possible.
The minute he darted away from the
table, Trey screamed in protest and worked furiously to get out of
the highchair and follow his older cousin. After initial attempts
to distract him with soda crackers and his toy truck failed, Jessy
gave up and lifted him out of his high chair. But his angry yowls
made it clear that he wasn’t interested in sitting on her lap; he
wanted to go after Quint.
Rising from his chair, Ty reached for
the squirming toddler. “I’ll take him,” he said to Jessy and swung
the little boy onto his hip. “Come on, little guy. Let’s go find
Quint.”
As abruptly as the fit-throwing
started, it stopped. Trey pointed a finger in the direction Quint
had gone and jabbered in excitement, none of it intelligible except
for the word “Kint,” which was the closest the toddler could come
to saying Quint’s name.
Ty worked his way through the crowded
restaurant area toward the bar where the occasional crack of a billiard ball could be heard above the din
of loud-talking voices and even louder music from the jukebox. All
the way, Trey twisted and turned, straining to catch the first
glimpse of his cousin.
But the first person to catch Ty’s eye
when he entered the bar area was Buck Haskell. He was perched atop
a stool in front of the long bar, a mug of beer in front of him and
an empty long neck beside it. He was sporting a new black Stetson
and a pair of fancy-stitched cowboy boots to go along with crisp
new jeans and a pearl-snapped Western shirt. His skin had lost its
prison pallor and taken on the hue of a tan, which made his curly
hair seem all the whiter. In short, he looked like what he was, in
a sense, an old cowhand dressed for a Saturday night on the
town.
His eyes had a knowing glint when he
met Ty’s look and raised his beer mug, acknowledging Ty’s presence.
It wasn’t in Ty to simply ignore the man. A Calder faced his
enemies; he didn’t walk away from them.
“ ’Lo, Buck.” He injected a coolness in
his voice. “Looks like you’re doing well.”
“As a matter of fact, I am,” Buck
declared, his mouth curving in a canny smile. “That your
boy?”
“It is.”
“He looks like a Calder,” Buck
observed. “Heard you named him after your pa.”
“That’s right.”
“I guess that means there will be a
Chase Benteen Calder running the Triple C for a good many years to
come.”
The last thing Ty wanted to talk about
with Buck Haskell was his young son. “I see you bought some new
duds.”
“I didn’t have much choice.” Buck
continued to smile. “They don’t let you take those prison uniforms
with you when they turn you loose.”
“But a hat and a pair of boots like
that don’t come cheap. You must be working somewhere.”
“Not yet. But I’ve got me a job lined
up. Looks like I’ll be startin’ soon.”
“Where?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find
out,” Buck replied and took a swig of beer.
“Don’t worry. We will.” Ty spotted
Quint standing quietly by the wall, watching the pool game in
progress.
As he started to move toward the boy,
Buck said, “I’d tell you to give my regards to your pa, but I don’t
think he cares to hear from me. You’ll be seein’ me, though. You
can count on that.”
Ty had the uneasy feeling the man spoke
the truth. But he didn’t have time to dwell on it as Trey suddenly
spied Quint. He kicked at Ty with his legs as if to hurry him
along.
The restaurant and bar had filled up.
Some of the families with younger children were leaving while the
local cowboys and mine workers filed into the café in twos and
threes. Most of them knew Ty by sight if not by name. They hailed
him with greetings. He acknowledged them with a wave or a lift of
his head.
Ty sidestepped a cue stick, drawn back
by its shooter, and jostled a towheaded boy of eighteen, his
freckled face sunburned except for a white band across the top of
his forehead.
“Sorry, Taylor.” Ty apologized to the
son from a family that ranched some land that adjoined the south
boundary of the Triple C. There was a passel of kids in the family,
and Ty never could keep their names straight.
“It’s okay.” The lanky boy shifted,
giving Ty a glimpse of the girl with him.
“Hey, Emily.” Ty was surprised to see
her in Taylor’s company. “I thought you were here with
Ballard.”
“No. I just danced with him. That’s
all,” she replied, then leaned closer, cupping a hand next to her
mouth to whisper in a secretive manner. “Rick says Dy-Corp doesn’t
have a helicopter. He says they don’t need one.”
“Really.” Ty straightened, absorbing
the information. “He works at the mine.”
“Yeah. It’s a job,” she said, as if in
defense of his choice.
Ty nodded absently in understanding,
and filed the information away.
As he worked his way through the
crowded bar to reach Quint, Ty skirted a group of onlookers that
had gathered by the pool table to watch the game in progress. Ty
was quick to notice that Dick Ballard was among them, one hand
hooked on the opposite shoulder of the shapely brunette beside him.
The woman was no one Ty recognized, but she definitely wasn’t Emily
Trumbo.
Leaning closer, Ballard whispered
something in the woman’s ear then bent his head to catch her
answer. He responded with a quick smile that might appear sexy to a
woman, but to Ty, it had the distinctive wheedling quality of a man
on the make. It reinforced his opinion that Ballard was little more
than Casanova in cowboy boots. Why Jessy thought of him as a friend
Ty would never understand, which made him all the more irritated by
the man.
At the table, the cue ball ricocheted
off the black eight ball and sent it spinning into a side pocket.
Amid the accompanying cheers of victory, there were a few hoots of
derision and an exchange of money.
The balls were already being racked up
to start a new game by the time Ty reached Quint’s side. The
gray-eyed boy scooted to one side, making room for Ty to stand next
to him along the wall.
“I didn’t know you were coming, too,”
Quint said.
“Trey wanted to see what was going on.”
Ty noticed how quickly Quint’s attention reverted to the table when
it appeared another game was about to start. “Like pool, do
you?”
Quint responded with an emphatic nod.
“When I get bigger, my dad’s going to teach me how to
play.”
“That’s good.”
A heavyset cowboy bent over the table,
sighted down his cue stick, drew it back, and sent it shooting
forward. Trey’s eyes widened at the explosive crack and clatter of the break.
He stared in wonder at the brightly colored balls careening off
each other in every direction.
He pointed to them, then looked at Ty.
“Baw.”
“That’s right. Those are balls, but
they aren’t the kind little boys can play with.”
“Only big boys, Trey,” Quint chimed
in.
For a time Trey was fascinated by all
the noise and action at the pool table. But his own restless nature
made it impossible for anything to hold his interest for long.
Within minutes he wanted down. The instant his feet touched the
floor, he made a dash for the pool table and the cache of balls
that had fallen into the pockets.
“Sorry, guy.” Ty scooped him back
up.
As usual, Trey simply looked around for
another distraction and settled for the rhythmic gyrations of the
people on the dance floor. Several more minutes passed before Ty
noticed that Ballard and the brunette were no longer among the
spectators at the pool table. Too soon the fast music ended and a
slow song took its place, too slow to interest Trey.
Idly Ty ran his glance around the area.
There was no sign of Ballard in the immediate vicinity, but he did
catch sight of Logan working his way toward the bar
area.
He touched Quint’s shoulder. “Here
comes your dad. It must be time for us to head back to the
table.”
“Okay.” With a barely perceptible sigh
of resignation, Quint dragged his gaze from the pool table and
moved away from the wall.
Ty shifted Trey to his left hip and
followed behind Quint. Near the bar, they hooked up with Logan. The
jam of people made for slow going as Logan led the way with Quint
sandwiched between the two men.
Their route took them by the small
dance floor. Just ahead on Ty’s right a burly mineworker slapped
one of his compatriots on his shoulder and pivoted blindly right
into Ty’s path. Ty stepped quickly to the side to avoid running
into the man and bumped one of the couples on the dance
floor.
“Sorry,” he began then found himself
staring into Ballard’s face. A quick glance revealed that his
partner wasn’t the shapely brunette Ty had seen him with earlier,
or Emily Trumbo. This one was a bleached blonde. Ty shot Ballard a
look of disgust. “Why can’t you be satisfied with just one
woman?”
Ballard’s eyes narrowed briefly. Then a
faintly taunting smile curved his mouth. “At least I’m not married
like you.”
In the fraction of an instant that it
took the words to register, Ty realized that Ballard had seen that
innocent kiss between himself and Tara—seen it and put his own
construction on it.
Furious, Ty let his fist fly, slamming
it against Ballard’s jaw. The force of the impact jarred his whole
arm and knocked Ballard sideways into other dancers, where he
stumbled, lost his balance, and fell.
One minute Ty was staring at Ballard,
propped on one elbow, trying to shake off the effects of the blow;
and in the next, Logan blocked his view, stepping between
them.
“That’s enough!” He shot Ty a look of
sharp warning.
It wasn’t necessary. That momentary
fury was gone. Ty loosened the muscles in his shoulders and opened
his fist, spreading his fingers wide, all the while conscious of
the aura of stillness and expectancy that surrounded him. He felt
the stares and heard the low hum of murmuring voices as Ballard got
to his feet, rubbing his jaw.
“I’ll give you that one, Calder,” he
said in a low but audible voice.
“Are you all right?” Logan asked
him.
“Except for a sore jaw, I’m just jim
dandy, Sheriff,” Ballard assured him with a return of his slow
smile. “But I’m sure going to watch closer for flying objects. Now,
if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a dance to finish.”
Turning from both of them back to the
blonde, Ballard effectively signaled an end to the moment.
Immediately the milling and talking began in an eager exchange of
information.
Logan glanced sideways at Ty, his gaze
curious and measuring. “What was that about?”
“That’s my business.” Brother-in-law or
not, Ty wasn’t about to explain.
“I’ll accept that.” Logan continued to
study him. “Just make sure that it doesn’t eventually become my
business.”
Among the many things Logan had learned
about the Calders since moving to Montana, he knew they demanded
loyalty from those who worked for them, and they gave it in return.
He hadn’t heard the words the two men exchanged, but he had seen
enough to know that something Ballard said provoked Ty’s swing. And
Ty wasn’t a man to rile easily, or likely to punch one of his
employees. So why had he? Logan hated questions without quick
answers.