Free This Calder Range by Janet Dailey Page A

along the well-trodden path through the cemetery, past wooden markers and headstones, to the large oak tree dominating the area.
    Winter had stripped the leaves from the tree, exposing its symmetrical skeleton of spreading branches and limbs. There was only a hint of green buds. A breeze whispered through the scattered piles of fallen leaves, a lonely sound made poignant by the simple wooden cross standing at the head of the elongated mound of earth. Its dark shape stood out sharply against the mixture of winter-brown grass and new green sprouts pushing up around it.
    When they reached the grave, his guiding hand fell away from her. Out of the corner of her eye, Lorna saw him take off his hat and hold it in front of him with bothhands. The breeze ruffled the ends of his dark hair as he stared at the cross. The lettering read simply: “Seth Calder. RIP.”
    â€œWe didn’t know your father’s birthdate,” she explained quietly. “We thought you could add whatever you liked to the marker when you came back.”
    â€œThat’s fine.”
    â€œA large number of your father’s friends and neighbors came to the funeral.” Lorna thought he’d like to know that.
    â€œI’m glad he never lived to see Boston take possession of his land.” A muscle flexed in his jaw.
    â€œMr. Boston felt very badly about the position his bank was forced to take.” Lorna wasn’t sure why she felt the need to defend the banker’s action.
    His glance pierced her. “Did Boston come to the funeral?”
    â€œNo, but he came by our house that evening to offer his condolences,” she explained. “Mr. Boston was upset by the possibility that the foreclosure proceedings precipitated your father’s death.”
    â€œI’ll bet he was upset.” His voice was dry with sarcasm.
    A frown gathered in her expression. “You surely don’t blame him for what happened? I’m sure it was a decision that was forced on him. And I know how much it bothers my father when he has to refuse a longtime customer credit because of a past-due account.” Lorna glanced away, vaguely irritated by his attitude. “I’m sure he waited as long as he could.”
    â€œAre you?” Benteen murmured.
    â€œYes, and I don’t see why you’re acting like this,” she admitted finally. “He and your father were neighbors, and you worked for him several years. I’m sure he found himself in a very awkward position, as a banker.”
    â€œBoston has wanted the Cee Bar’s graze and water for years. He’s been slowly squeezing my father out all this time. Now he’s got what he wanted all along. TheCee Bar is his.” Benteen pushed his hat onto his head, pulling it down low in front and back. “I’ve known he wanted it for years, so did Pa. Boston is only pretending to be upset so he’ll look good in the town’s eyes. Don’t believe him.”
    Taking her by the elbow, Benteen turned her away from the grave and started back toward the buggy. He sounded so certain about the banker’s motives that Lorna wondered if she hadn’t been too ready to believe the best. She was used to trusting people.
    â€œHave you been to the ranch since you got back?” She tried to watch him and where she was walking at the same time.
    â€œYes.” His faint smile had an unpleasant look to it. “Judd Boston had a reception committee waiting for me.”
    â€œHe did?” She was confused by his choice of words.
    â€œA man and a rifle were there to make sure I didn’t trespass for long,” Benton explained. When they reached the buggy, he paused to glance back at the graveyard. “The last reason I had for staying in Texas is buried there. It’s the last time a Calder is going to be put in Texas dirt.”
    There was something morbid about his vow, and it frightened Lorna. This was a side of him that she