Calder Brand - Janet Dailey Page 0,89

and find a teacher.

The school, in the town of Blue Moon, will be finished this fall. But we are still in need of a teacher. Rusty tells me you’ve been successful in helping and motivating students. Since I’ve met you and know you to be well educated and of good character, we would like to offer you the position, which would include a salary, a small, furnished house, and the use of a horse and buggy.

Sarah’s eyes blurred with tears. It would be the answer to her prayers—a salaried job and a place to live, somewhere far from Ogallala. But how could she accept, given her circumstances? She wiped her eyes and read the next page of the long letter.

Before you make a decision, please forgive me for getting personal. I know about your son—and no, Rusty didn’t betray your secret. I simply guessed. I would be happy to introduce you to the community as a widow. Only Rusty and I would know the truth.

If you decide to accept our offer—and I truly hope you will—please let me know as soon as possible. I will send train fare from Ogallala to Miles City for you, your son, and the dog that Rusty says you have. I will look forward to meeting you there and taking you to your new home.

Yours truly,

Lorna Calder

Sarah read the letter again, then again, until the trembling of her hands blurred the pages. A new start. A new life for her and her son. This had to be the answer. How could she not accept Lorna Calder’s generous offer?

But there was one question Lorna had left unanswered—a question Sarah knew she had no right to ask.

Where was Joe in all this?

* * *

Joe was dreaming again—the old dream of the wild horses, led by the blue roan stallion. They galloped over a rise and into his vision, swirling past him like a mirage. As they swung away, the stallion turned toward him, reared, and was gone.

He opened his eyes to darkness. Alone in his wide bed, he lay still, remembering. The dream hadn’t visited him in years, but it always seemed to come when his life was about to change—almost as a sign, or as a warning.

Or maybe the dream was only that—an illusion, rising from the depths of his imagination.

Seen through the curtainless window, the stars were beginning to fade. Swinging his feet to the floor, Joe stood, pulled on his robe, and padded barefoot into the kitchen to make coffee.

A few minutes later, with the cup warming his palms, he walked out onto the broad, covered porch and stood at the rail, watching the day begin. The wooded slopes of his land stretched below him, and beyond that the rolling prairie, the road, and the distant town of Blue Moon, which from here was little more than a dark smudge against the pale landscape. This was his world, the kingdom he’d forged and fought for. Once, he’d believed it would be enough. But every day he lived told him he’d been wrong.

As a young cowpuncher, Joe had dreamed of having his own brand—the outline of a hide with a dollar sign on it. Now it was his, custom made by the blacksmith in Blue Moon, and stamped on everything from horses to cattle to lumber.

The horse-breaking venture with Elaine, Lady Crawford, had been profitable beyond his wildest dreams. Over two years’ time, the work, with the help of the cowboys he’d trained, had furnished the Canadian government with more than a thousand horses for the army, the North-West Mounted Police, and the ranches lying north of the border.

Only when their business had concluded and the profits were settled had Elaine confided that her other partner, selling cattle to the same buyer, had been Benteen Calder. Joe had been surprised, but as long as the money was good, he’d had no cause to complain.

With the profit from the horses, he’d bought wagons and equipment, hired loggers, and begun harvesting trees from his land. Lumber for buildings, fences, and bridges was in high demand, especially after the arrival of the railroad in Miles City. With a direct rail line to ship cattle to the stockyards and slaughterhouses of Chicago, the whole area was booming.

When he’d realized he couldn’t harvest enough trees to meet that demand, he’d sent wagons west to the mountain country, to buy and bring back load after load of cut pine logs. Using power from the creek, he’d put up a sawmill to