Lone Calder Star by Janet Dailey

acres," he added thoughtfully. "Could be Rutledge is trying to take a bite out of an outfit that's too big for him."
    "But it's up there. Down here, Rutledge calls the shots-or have you forgotten?" The instant the acerbic comment left her mouth, Dallas regretted opening old wounds. Still, the truth was the truth. "And how much is a big outfit like that going to care about a measly little spread a thousand miles away? Every rancher with any business sense at all knows that sometimes you have to cut your losses and sell."
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    Empty chose to ignore her latter remark. "The Cee Bar isn't as measly as it once was. It takes in close to five thousand acres now. And it's got this big creek that curls right through it. It's never been known to run dry either. It's the water; I'll bet that's what Rutledge is coveting."
    "You're full of information, aren't you?" Dallas turned a suspicious look on him. "And you got all this from one brief meeting with this Echohawk?"
    "It wasn't all that brief." He deliberately avoided her eyes. "1 pitched in and helped him unload the grain and catch up his horses. I knew nobody else would be making any neighborly gestures.
    Lord knows I didn't have any other demands on my day except to sit in that trailer and go stir-crazy."
    But Dallas refused to be diverted by his attempt to change the subject. "Just how long were you there, Empty?"
    "How should I know? I didn't keep track of the time." He puffed up, all stern-looking and indignant. Not for anything would he admit that he had left the Cee Bar barely twenty minutes ago. "I don't see what difference it makes anyhow. All I did was Iend him a hand with a few things. From the way the place looks, Evans let a lot of things go slack these last few months.
    Course, that ranch is too big for one man to handle by himself. That Quint Echohawk will need a hired hand. There's no two ways about it."
    "We both know he hasn't got a snowball's chance in hell of finding one," she stated flatly, yet inwardly struggled with the heavy feeling of regret that washed over her.
    "Watch your language, there, little gal. Why, your grandma would be rolling over in her grave if she heard you cussing like that." There was sharp reproach in the look he slanted in her direction. "You were raised better."
    "I know."
    Empty caught the note of defiance in her voice. "You've gotten hard, Dallas." It hurt him to see that in her. "It comes from carrying too much on those young shoulders of yours. Guess that's my fault."
    "Don't be ridiculous," she said in annoyance. "It's nobody's fault. It's just life."
    "Maybe so," he conceded. "But that doesn't make it any easier to watch you working two, sometimes three jobs and going to school nights to better yourself, while I sit around, twiddling my thumbs, waiting for my Social Security check to arrive. Lord knows why, 'cause it's hardly enough to pay the rental on that run down old trailer."
    Dallas knew it was his pride talking. "Anyone who has worked as hard and as long as you have is entitled to a life of leisure," she reasoned. "And I'm not working any harder than you did at my age."
    "I suppose you think I'm like an old horse who's supposed to be happy about getting turned out to pasture. Well, for your information, little gal, I'm not on my last legs yet."
    Dallas sensed some hidden message in his statement that instantly made her wary. "What do you mean?" A frisson of alarm shot through her. "Wait a minute, Empty. You aren't thinking of taking that job at the Cee Bar?" She checked the impulse to tell him he was too old. "You can't do it," she protested instead. "We don't need any more trouble."
    "Rutledge has you buffaloed, doesn't he? I thought I raised you to have more backbone than that."
    Stung by his words, Dallas reacted with heat. "I only know that we have to live here while your Mr. Echohawk can go back to Montana any time he chooses."
    "In the first place, he isn't my Mr. Echohawk," Empty retorted. "And in the second,