Read Online This Calder Range by Janet Dailey - Free Book Online

on the post ring and walked to the front porch. His footsteps sounded heavy as he crossed the board floor and knocked twice on the door. When it opened, Benteen let his hard gaze search Lorna’s face.
    After an instant of startled recognition, she went white. “You know,” she whispered.
    â€œPa’s dead.” His voice was flat as he read the confirmation in her expression.
    Lorna nodded once, her lips parting, but no words came out. Benteen lowered his gaze to the door’s threshold, physically numbed to the fact. He clenched his hands into fists, trying to accept the truth of the words he’d said, but protest raged inside him.
    â€œWhen?” The one-word question rumbled from a deep pit within himself.
    â€œThe first week of January.”
    Benteen shut his eyes briefly, barely conscious of the rustle of her long skirt. He stiffened at the touch of her hand on his arm, the quiet offer of sympathy. Briskly he moved to reject it.
    â€œCome inside,” she invited.
    He brushed past her to walk inside, burning with a raw kind of energy. There was a noise from the dining room. Benteen turned and saw Lorna’s mother. She took one look at him and didn’t have to be told a thing.
    â€œCome into the kitchen, Benteen, and have some coffee,” she invited calmly, as if this visit from him were no different from any other.
    It seemed automatic to follow her into the scrubbed freshness of the kitchen. His blank gaze watched her pour a cup from the metal pot on the wood range. She set it on the table.
    â€œI don’t imagine you’ve eaten anything, have you?” Mrs. Pearce guessed.
    His hand lifted in a vacant gesture that said food wasn’t important. “What happened?” Benteen continued to stand, making no move to sit in the white enameled chair at the table or drink the coffee.
    Behind him, he heard Lorna’s footsteps as she entered the kitchen. His mind wasn’t able to think about her, perhaps because his heart was incapable of feelings at this moment. He had to keep them shut out.
    â€œThe doctor said it was his heart,” Mrs. Pearce replied with a somber attention to the fact without embellishment. “By the time the doctor arrived, it was already too late to help him.”
    â€œWhere was he when it happened?” Benteen questioned.
    â€œHe had come to town for supplies—to my husband’s store,” she answered, being more specific.
    â€œWas your husband with him when he died?” He jumped on the information. Instinct told him that Judd Boston had played a role in his father’s death, and Benteen was determined to find out how significant it had been.
    â€œWell, not exactly.” Mrs. Pearce displayed patience in the face of his sharp cross-examination. “Your father had given my husband a list of the items he wanted. Arthur thought your father didn’t look well, so he suggested that your father use his office in the backroom where he could sit and rest while the order was being filled.”
    â€œThen he was alone?”
    â€œYes.” She nodded. “He’d taken a cigar and told my husband to include it on his bill. Arthur said your father was in the back room only a few minutes when he heard a loud noise—like something had fallen. When he went back to see what had happened, your father was lying on the floor by his desk. Arthur immediately sent someone for the doctor, but of course it was too late.”
    â€œDid he say anything about Judd Boston?” There was a cold cynicism in the question.
    Clara Pearce showed a trace of unease at the question. “It wasn’t until later that we learned Mr. Boston’s bank had instructed the sheriff to serve a foreclosure notice on your father’s ranch … for nonpayment of notes that were due.”
    â€œAnd Pa didn’t mention anything about it to your husband?” The ridgeline of his jaw stood out sharply.
    â€œI