Wyoming Tough - By Diana Palmer Page 0,53
was guilt-ridden about the way he’d treated Morie. His brothers were right. Morie couldn’t have taken the egg. She left the ranch just minutes after it was found in her rucksack, and Mallory was certain that he’d held the real egg in his hands in the bunkhouse. He’d put it back in the display case himself, after Morie was gone. So the real one had to have been replaced after Morie’s departure…replaced with this cheap copy that would only have fooled someone from a distance. None of them had thought to look at it closely. There had been no reason to.
“Let me call Dane,” Cane coaxed. “If you’re right about Gelly, I’ll apologize.”
“So will I,” Tank agreed.
Mallory drew in a long breath. “Okay,” he said after a minute. His expression was grim. “Call him.”
THE ESTATE WAS BRILLIANT with color and decoration, especially the huge stone patio where tables were going to be set up the following week for King’s gala production show. Ranchers were coming from all over the world to look at his prize cattle, which would be offered for sale at auction.
“Dad really does things on a big scale,” Morie mused as she and her mother went over the final plans with a staff of professionals who would complete the finishing touches and employ caterers for the occasion. It was much too large an endeavor for any one person, although Shelby kept a tight rein on the operation and dictated what she wanted done.
“Yes, he does,” Shelby said with a smile. “He’s very proud of his purebred herd.”
“So am I,” Morie replied. “Now that I know how a ranch operates from the ground up, I have even more admiration for the care Dad takes of his cattle and his men.”
“My daughter, the cowgirl,” Shelly chuckled.
“I enjoyed it. Most of it,” she replied and lowered her eyes.
Shelby turned back to the woman who was carrying out the party plans. “You were able to get Desperado to play for us, weren’t you?”
Tenny Welsh laughed. “Yes, I was,” she said, “although the group is semiretired now. They all have kids and touring isn’t conducive to raising a family, they say. But they’ll do it for you,” she told Shelby. “Heather Everett is best friends with the lead singer. She convinced them.”
“God bless her,” Shelby said fervently. “She’s such a sweetie.”
“So is her daughter, Odalie,” Tenny replied with a sigh. “Have you ever heard her sing? She has the voice of an angel!”
“Where did you hear her?” Morie asked, curious.
“She goes to our church and is a soloist in the choir,” the other woman replied with a smile. “It’s such a joy to hear her.”
“She’s had an offer from the Met, by the way,” Shelby told Morie. “She’s deliberating whether or not to go.”
“It would be a shame to waste a talent like that,” the caterer replied dreamily. “Oh, I’d love to have such a voice!”
Morie didn’t reply. She was thinking of her brother, Cort, who had such a hopeless passion for the shy blonde, who apparently hated him. Nobody knew why. Well, perhaps Cort did, but he was very tight-lipped about his private life.
“So here’s the final menu.” Shelby interrupted her thoughts as she handed the printed list to the caterer. “And please make certain that we have a variety of canapés to suit every taste, and plenty of fruit.”
“I always do,” Tenny reminded her with a smile. This wasn’t the first time she’d catered big social parties for the Brannts. “I know your tastes very well, Shelby.”
Shelby laughed. “It will be a gala occasion. We have a famous soccer star, four A-list actors and actresses, the CEO of a giant computer/software corporation, two government agents, a few assorted mercenaries and the former vice president.”
“Vice president?” Morie asked, surprised.
“He’s a friend of your father’s,” she replied. “Of course, so are the mercenaries,” she added amusedly. “He likes black sheep.”
“Well, they are interesting people,” Tenny added. Her face changed. “Especially that man, Grange, who works for the Pendletons. The stories I’ve heard about him!”
“Yes, he was a former major in the Green Berets,” Shelby confided. “And there was a rumor that he actually led a group of mercs down into Mexico to rescue Gracie Pendleton when she was kidnapped by that deposed South American dictator, Emilio Machado.”
“I’ve heard about him,” Morie said. She frowned. “Wasn’t something said about a connection between Machado and our Rick Marquez, who works as a homicide detective with San Antonio P.D.?” she added.
“Yes,” Tenny replied in a