Free Shifting Calder Wind by Janet Dailey

know that it will place you apart from those around you. There will be occasions when you will wish to be an ordinary mortal. I know it is a desire my brother, the Earl of Stanfield, has expressed to me more than once. At such times, I ask that you remember my offer. There,” he concluded, his smile taking on a winsome quality, “I have made my little speech—and no doubt bored you dreadfully.”
    She laughed low in her throat. “You are never boring, Monte.”
    “I am relieved to hear that. Since coming here, I have overheard more than one local remark that I sound stuffy and a bit pompous. I suspect it is this accent of mine that gives that impression.”
    “They clearly don’t know you very well,” Jessy replied.
    “I am glad you feel that way,” he said, then paused. “I don’t quite know why, but from the very first, I have always felt comfortable with you. If I said such a thing to most women, they would be insulted, but I think you know that I mean it as a compliment.”
    “I do.” Thinking back over the last three days, Jessy realized that Monte had spent considerable time at The Homestead, a quiet presence somewhere in the background, never asserting himself, never seeming to be in the way, turning his hand to anything useful whether it was answering the telephone or accepting delivery of a telegram. Even the night when Logan had brought them the news of Chase’s death, it hadn’t seemed intrusive for Monte to be there. In those first few moments afterward, she remembered the touch of his hand on her arm, the sensation of it as a kind of steadying force. And the look in his eyes had been one of recognition for the change in status Chase’s death meant for her. At the time she had given it little thought.
    “I find it easy to be with you, Monte,” Jessy admitted freely.
    “Gracious,” he dryly arched an eyebrow over twinkling eyes, “we sound like members of some mutual admiration society. Why does it feel so awkward to express honest emotions?”
    “I don’t know.” With typical unconcern, she shrugged away the question. Such things had never troubled her. “You can drive yourself crazy trying to analyze the reason. Even if you figure it out, what does it change?”
    Monte threw back his head and laughed. “What does it change, indeed,” he declared. “You are a marvel, Jessy, always so straight and direct, yet somehow so difficult to fathom.”
    “I’m not a well,” she said dryly, finding such talk ridiculously fanciful.
    Monte just smiled. “If you were, you would likely be a bottomless one. But,” he paused and seemed to gather himself, “I have kept you long enough. I merely wanted to make certain that you knew I understood the unique position you now hold, and that I am available if you ever want company.”
    “Thank you.”
    He didn’t press for a more definite answer. “I’ll see you later at the funeral.” He brushed a hand over her arm in farewell and moved down the steps toward his Range Rover.
    Jessy didn’t linger to watch him leave. She had a dozen different tasks to accomplish before the hour of the funeral arrived. She didn’t bother to dwell on the offer he had made, not even to wonder if the day would come when she would want such company and, if it did, whether she would call Monte.
     
     
    A huge throng of mourners crowded the small cemetery by the river that had long been the repository for the ranch’s dead. It was a notable group who gathered to pay their last respects to Chase Calder, numbering among them the governor as well as senators and congressmen at both the state and national level.
    Strains of the old hymn “Shall We Gather at the River” filled the silence, sung by a local church choir. On Jessy’s left, Laura sang along, la-la-la-ing the numerous words she didn’t know. Trey was slumped in the chair on her right, swinging his legs back and forth, thumping them against the chair in a discordant tempo to the music. A quiet and solemn