Laura had a different opinion as she stared up at the bright letters. She pointed a finger at them and jabbered excitedly to Jessy, her expression all alight.

"Laura seems to like it," Jessy remarked with a smile.

Chase slanted a sideways glance at his granddaughter and muttered, "Sometimes I wonder about that child's taste."

Jessy had only to recall how fascinated Laura was with Tara to agree with him. "My mom says she's at that age where she's fascinated by anything bright and shiny."

"That sign is definitely on the gawdy side of that," Chase declared and glanced at the young boy hooked in his arm. "Don't you agree, Trey?"

But Trey's entire attention was focused on the building's entrance and the steady hum of voices and muffled blare of music that emanated from it.

"Come on. Let's go in." Chase signaled for the women to precede him.

"As crowded as it is, we may be in for a long wait to get a table," Sally murmured worriedly.

"We'd better not. I called ahead to reserve one," Chase stated.

A cacophony of noise greeted them when they walked inside. Interspersed with the steady chatter of voices were hoots of laughter, and the clink and clatter of dishes and drinks. A honky-tonk song played on the jukebox, its volume cranked as high as it would go. From the bar side came the crack of a cue ball and the rumble of billiard balls rattling across the pool table's slate surface.

The establishment's new owner and namesake, Harry Weldon, pumped Chase's hand in greeting. He was a barrel-chested man with an apron tied around his middle and sweat running down his flushed face.

"It's crazy in here tonight, but it's always like that on Saturday nights now. You can't stir 'em with a stick," he said with considerable pride, nearly shouting to make himself heard above the noise. "Your table will be ready in two seconds."

The two seconds were closer to two minutes. By the time Harry Weldon returned, Ty had joined them and taken a squirming Trey from Chase's arms. The toddler's head was on a swivel, straining to see everything at once.

"I got ya' a table fixed up over here in the corner." Plastic-coated menus in hand, Harry started in that direction, parting a path through the crowd and glancing over his shoulder. "Sorry it took so long. I had to get another keg from the back."

A soft shoulder bumped into Ty from behind. "Whoops, sorry," a female voice said. Ty looked back and saw a familiar face among the throng of strangers. It belonged to a Trumbo girl, Emily, the youngest. She recognized him at the same moment. "Ty. I didn't expect to run into you here, literally. I'm afraid I wasn't looking where I was going. I was too busy giving Dick a hard time."

His glance flicked to the man behind her and encountered Ballard's cool blue eyes. Ty knew it was logical that Ballard would be here tonight. It was the only watering hole for miles, making it the natural gathering point for both sexes on a Saturday night. But the realization came as an afterthought.

Emily Trumbo didn't appear to notice the sudden temperature drop as she continued talking. "Tell him what you told me, Dick," she urged, then jumped in when he didn't immediately respond. "He claims he saw a helicopter flying over the ranch on his way into town. I have never seen a helicopter except in the movies. And he says there was one flying over the Triple C. Can you believe it?"

Eyes narrowing at the possible significance of the sighting, Ty pinned his gaze on Ballard. "What kind of helicopter? Military or private?"

"It was too far away to tell. It could have been either."

"Where was it when you spotted it?" Ty had to raise his voice to make himself heard above the din.

"Northeast of the road," Ballard all but shouted his answer.

"Near Wolf Meadow?"

"That general area," Ballard confirmed.

"Which way was it headed?"

"On an easterly course."

"Toward Blue Moon?"

"Maybe." Then Ballard asked the question that was on Ty's mind. "Does Dy-Corp have a helicopter here?"

"I don't know." But he knew it wouldn't be hard to find out.

"Do you really think Dy-Corp has a helicopter?" Excited by the thought, Emily turned to Ballard. "I know a guy who works there. Maybe he could get me a ride on it. Wouldn't that be something?"

"Really something," Ballard assured her, then turned her back around. "We're headed for the dance floor, remember."

"Right." But as she moved past Ty, she was already craning her head trying to see above the crowd. "I wonder if Rick's here tonight."

By the time Ty worked his way through the crowd to the corner table, the others were already seated. After he had Trey buckled in the high chair, Ty relayed the information about the helicopter.

"Even if it wasn't military, it still might have been a government helicopter, state or federal," Sally suggested in an attempt to chase away the cloud that suddenly hung over their table.

"It's possible," Chase conceded. "But logic tells me differently. I can only think of one person with reason to fly over that section of the ranch, and that would be the new owner of it. They were bound to show up sooner or later. And I certainly didn't expect them to drive up to The Homestead and introduce themselves."

"You keep saying 'they,'" Jessy inserted. "You are convinced it's Dy-Corp, aren't you?"

"Let's put it this way," Chase replied. "Dy-Corp knows we aren't going to let them cross our land to get to the Wolf Meadow range. Their only access to it is by air. And nobody else in the area is likely to have a helicopter other than the government or military."

"I know they want the coal on that land, but what good is it to them?" That was the part Jessy had trouble understanding. "They can't get their mining equipment in, or the coal out."

"They have something up their sleeves. You can bet on it." Chase opened the plastic-covered menu and squinted at the small type.

Ty spoke up. "I'll pass the word tomorrow for everybody to keep a lookout for any more helicopters in the area. Maybe next time we'll get lucky and get an aircraft identification number-assuming there is a next time. Meanwhile we need to find out whether Dy-Corp owns a helicopter."

"Or leases one," Chase added, then frowned and looked up. "Aren't there any barbeque ribs on this menu?"

"Right there." Sally pointed to them, relieved by the change of subject.

"That's what I'll have." He folded the menu shut and pushed it onto the table. "Although I doubt they will be as tasty and tender as the ones you make."

It was the warm look he gave her more than the praise for her cooking that had Sally glowing like a schoolgirl. But Jessy had little time to dwell on it as Trey let out a gleeful shriek and struggled to get out of the high chair. She reached to push him back in his seat just as the cause of excitement ran up to the chair.

"Hi, Trey. I didn't know you were going to be here tonight," Quint declared.

Cat and Logan were only a few steps behind him. Chase leaned back in his chair, his surprise quickly giving way to pleasure at the sight of his daughter and her family.

"Look who's here," he declared and immediately began issuing orders. "Pull that table over here and join us. We might as well make this a night out for the whole family."

After the initial confusion of moving tables and chairs, shifting positions, and everyone sitting down, Ty wasted no time mentioning the helicopter to Logan and their suspicion that it belonged to Dy-Corp.

"Unless it flew in today, Dy-Corp doesn't have a helicopter based here in Blue Moon," Logan stated. "But that doesn't mean they couldn't have chartered one from the copter service in Miles City. I'll ask around and see what I can find out. Unofficially, of course."

"I would appreciate that," Chase acknowledged.

"No more ranch talk," Cat decreed then grinned. "At least not the business end." Green eyes twinkling, she glanced at Jessy. "I planned to call you later tonight. I'm flying to Dallas next weekend and I thought you might like to come with me."

"Dallas?" Jessy wasn't sure which surprised her more-that Cat was going to Dallas or that she wanted her to go along.

"What's in Dallas?" Chase frowned at his daughter.

Logan inserted dryly, "Out of two closets full of clothes, she can't find a thing to wear."

"That's not true. I have plenty of clothes. I just don't have a knock-'em-out-of-their-boots outfit to wear to the auction," Cat explained to all then redirected her attention to Jessy. "I know you plan on buying something new for it. I thought we could shop together. It's a lot more fun that way."

"Yes, but-I was just going to pick something up in Miles City." The idea of flying all the way to Dallas to shop struck Jessy as totally unnecessary.

"Believe me, Jess, you aren't going to find what you need in Miles City," Cat advised as the waitress arrived, balancing a tray loaded with water glasses. "Initially I considered going to Denver since it's closer, but I'm much more familiar with the shops in Dallas and Fort Worth."

"As much as I hate to admit it"-Ty paused to hold Trey's hand when he made a grab for one of the glasses-"my sister is right. You won't find high fashion in Miles City. For that, you'll have to shop somewhere else."

"I suppose," Jessy conceded, but inside she was screaming at the very idea. All this talk about projecting the proper image and creating the right impression went against the grain and smacked of phoniness. As far as Jessy was concerned, she was who and what she was and everyone else was welcome to take it or leave it.

Besides, "high fashion" was a term she equated with Tara, not herself. Never herself.

"Then you will come with me?" Cat pressed for a more definite answer.

"Of course she'll go," Chase answered for her, then added, "A couple days away from the ranch and the twins will do you good."

It wasn't in Jessy's nature to be anything less than candid. "I can't imagine anything more painful than going from store to store trying on clothes. And I'm telling you right now, I am not wearing a dress or putting on makeup for this affair. It's an auction, for heaven's sake."

Smiling, Ty eyed his wife with a mixture of amusement and appreciation then glanced at Cat. "You have your work cut out for you on this trip, sis."

"I'm not one bit worried." She spoke with confidence. "They are making some fabulous Western clothes these days. We'll find the perfect outfit. Wait and see."

Slapping her order pad on the tray and clicking her ballpoint pen, the waitress broke into their conversation, "Anybody ready to order?"

She went around the long table, writing down each one's food and drink order until she came to Chase. "You aren't going to like those ribs, Mr. Calder." The pen remained poised above the pad. "They are dry and tough. Why don't you have a steak instead?"

"Make it well done."

"I'll see that the cook burns it," she promised with an emphatic nod. Once all their orders were taken, she closed the book and slipped it inside her roomy apron pocket. "I'll be right back with your drinks. The food's another story. It's crazy in that kitchen," she warned, already moving away from the table.

Quint patted Logan's arm in an attention-getting gesture. "Dad, is it all right if I go watch them play pool?"

Logan glanced at his wristwatch. "It shouldn't be too rowdy over there yet. You can go, but only for a little while."

"Thanks." Quint flashed him a rare smile and scooted off his chair, intent on reaching the bar's billiard area as fast as possible.

The minute he darted away from the table, Trey screamed in protest and worked furiously to get out of the highchair and follow his older cousin. After initial attempts to distract him with soda crackers and his toy truck failed, Jessy gave up and lifted him out of his high chair. But his angry yowls made it clear that he wasn't interested in sitting on her lap; he wanted to go after Quint.

Rising from his chair, Ty reached for the squirming toddler. "I'll take him," he said to Jessy and swung the little boy onto his hip. "Come on, little guy. Let's go find Quint."

As abruptly as the fit-throwing started, it stopped. Trey pointed a finger in the direction Quint had gone and jabbered in excitement, none of it intelligible except for the word "Kint," which was the closest the toddler could come to saying Quint's name.

Ty worked his way through the crowded restaurant area toward the bar where the occasional crack of a billiard ball could be heard above the din of loud-talking voices and even louder music from the jukebox. All the way, Trey twisted and turned, straining to catch the first glimpse of his cousin.

But the first person to catch Ty's eye when he entered the bar area was Buck Haskell. He was perched atop a stool in front of the long bar, a mug of beer in front of him and an empty long neck beside it. He was sporting a new black Stetson and a pair of fancy-stitched cowboy boots to go along with crisp new jeans and a pearl-snapped Western shirt. His skin had lost its prison pallor and taken on the hue of a tan, which made his curly hair seem all the whiter. In short, he looked like what he was, in a sense, an old cowhand dressed for a Saturday night on the town.

His eyes had a knowing glint when he met Ty's look and raised his beer mug, acknowledging Ty's presence. It wasn't in Ty to simply ignore the man. A Calder faced his enemies; he didn't walk away from them.

" 'Lo, Buck." He injected a coolness in his voice. "Looks like you're doing well."

"As a matter of fact, I am," Buck declared, his mouth curving in a canny smile. "That your boy?"

"It is."

"He looks like a Calder," Buck observed. "Heard you named him after your pa."

"That's right."

"I guess that means there will be a Chase Benteen Calder running the Triple C for a good many years to come."

The last thing Ty wanted to talk about with Buck Haskell was his young son. "I see you bought some new duds."

"I didn't have much choice." Buck continued to smile. "They don't let you take those prison uniforms with you when they turn you loose."

"But a hat and a pair of boots like that don't come cheap. You must be working somewhere."

"Not yet. But I've got me a job lined up. Looks like I'll be startin' soon."

"Where?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out," Buck replied and took a swig of beer.

"Don't worry. We will." Ty spotted Quint standing quietly by the wall, watching the pool game in progress.

As he started to move toward the boy, Buck said, "I'd tell you to give my regards to your pa, but I don't think he cares to hear from me. You'll be seein' me, though. You can count on that."

Ty had the uneasy feeling the man spoke the truth. But he didn't have time to dwell on it as Trey suddenly spied Quint. He kicked at Ty with his legs as if to hurry him along.

The restaurant and bar had filled up. Some of the families with younger children were leaving while the local cowboys and mine workers filed into the cafe in twos and threes. Most of them knew Ty by sight if not by name. They hailed him with greetings. He acknowledged them with a wave or a lift of his head.

Ty sidestepped a cue stick, drawn back by its shooter, and jostled a towheaded boy of eighteen, his freckled face sunburned except for a white band across the top of his forehead.

"Sorry, Taylor." Ty apologized to the son from a family that ranched some land that adjoined the south boundary of the Triple C. There was a passel of kids in the family, and Ty never could keep their names straight.

"It's okay." The lanky boy shifted, giving Ty a glimpse of the girl with him.

"Hey, Emily." Ty was surprised to see her in Taylor's company. "I thought you were here with Ballard."

"No. I just danced with him. That's all," she replied, then leaned closer, cupping a hand next to her mouth to whisper in a secretive manner. "Rick says Dy-Corp doesn't have a helicopter. He says they don't need one."

"Really." Ty straightened, absorbing the information. "He works at the mine."

"Yeah. It's a job," she said, as if in defense of his choice.