The Westmoreland Legacy. Brenda Jackson
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away, Gavin had given their closest neighbors his contact information in case of emergencies. Of course the foreman was there, running the ranch in Gavin’s absence. Surely if something was going on with his grandmother, Caldwell would have contacted Gavin. But what if this was one of those times when Caldwell had gone to Saint Louis to meet with one of their beef distributors?
Gavin quickly pressed the redial button and Mr. Lott picked up on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Mr. Lott, this is Gavin. Has something happened to Gramma Mel?”
“No, Gavin, your grandmother is fine physically. Not sure what’s happening to her mind, though.”
Gavin frowned, wondering what the man meant. Although she was nearing her seventy-fifth birthday, Gavin had never known a day in all his thirty-two years when Melody Blake hadn’t been sharp as a tack. He’d spoken with his grandmother two weeks ago and she had sounded just fine to him. “What makes you think something is wrong with her mind?”
“She’s allowed some fast-talking college professor to convince her that the outlaw Jesse James buried some of his loot on the Silver Spurs, and they plan to start digging up parts of her land next week.”
Gavin refrained from correcting the man. The land was their property since Gavin legally owned all eight hundred acres jointly with his grandmother. Instead he concentrated on what Lott had said. His grandmother had given someone permission to dig on the Silver Spurs?
“There must be some mistake, Mr. Lott. You know my grandmother as well as I do. There’s no way she would allow some man to—”
“It’s a woman. A professor by the name of Dr. Harris.”
Gavin drew in a deep breath. Who the hell was Dr. Harris and how had she talked his grandmother into agreeing to a dig on Blake land?
Rubbing a hand down his face, Gavin knew he would be flying home and not making that pit stop in Mississippi after all. Damn!
“Gavin?”
“Yes, Mr. Lott, I’m here.”
“I hated to call you knowing you’re probably somewhere doing important work for our country, but I felt you needed to know what’s going on.”
“And I appreciate you doing so. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll be home in a couple of days.”
Gavin hung up the phone and cursed in anger. He then placed a call to his ranch foreman, Caldwell Andrews. The phone was answered on the third ring.
“Caldwell? What’s going on at the Silver Spurs? Sherman Lott just called and he thinks Gramma Melody has gone loco. He said something about her allowing some professor to dig on the ranch?”
He heard Caldwell curse under his breath before saying, “I wish Lott hadn’t called you, Gavin. Your grandmother is fine. She likes the professor. They talked and according to Ms. Mel she read the professor’s report and it’s legit.”
Viper rolled his eyes. “Caldwell, you know as well as I do that there’s no buried treasure on the Silver Spurs. If you recall, when I was in my teens, Dad allowed this outfit to come in and dig up parts of the land when they convinced him there was oil somewhere on it. Not a drop of oil was found.”
“I remember. But I guess Ms. Mel figured a little digging wouldn’t hurt anything since it’s a small area, away from the main house and far away from where the cows are kept. It’s the south pasture.”
“The south pasture?”
“Yes. Nobody ever goes over there.”
Nobody but me, Gavin thought. He knew everyone thought of the south pasture as wasted land since it had compacted soil, little or no vegetation and unsuitable irrigation. However, that part of the ranch was where he could escape and find solace whenever he needed to be alone. For some reason, going there always renewed his spirits. It was where he’d gone as a kid whenever he would miss his mother, where he’d gone after getting word about his father being killed in the Middle East. And last year he had camped out there a couple of days after returning from his mission and believing his teammate Coop was dead. It was there in the south pasture where Gavin had dealt with the thought of his good friend dying.
“Like I said, Gavin. Your grandmother has everything under control.”
He wasn’t so sure of that. “I’ll find that out for myself since I’ll be home in a few days. Don’t mention my visit to Gramma Mel. I want to surprise her.” When he hung up the phone, he rubbed a frustrated hand down his face.
“Viper? Hey, man, you okay?”
Viper turned to see four sets of eyes staring at him with concern. His SEAL teammates. They were Brisbane Westmoreland, team name Bane; Thurston McRoy, team name Mac; Laramie Cooper, team name Coop; and David Holloway, team name Flipper. The five of them had survived all phases of SEAL training together and were not only teammates, but like brothers. More than once they’d risked their lives for each other and would continue to have each other’s backs, on duty or off.
“Viper?”
He heard the impatience in Mac’s voice and spoke up before Mac’s edginess got the best of them. “It’s my grandmother.”
“What about Gramma Mel?” Flipper asked, moving closer. Each of them had at one time or another gone home with Viper and met his grandmother.
“Is she sick?” Bane asked.
Viper shook his head. “No, it’s nothing like that. My neighbor called to let me know that Gramma Mel gave some college professor permission to dig on our property. This professor has convinced my grandmother that Jesse James buried some of his stolen loot on the Silver Spurs.”
The worried expressions on his friends’ faces switched to relief and then amusement. “Is that all?” Coop asked, grinning, resting his broad shoulder against a wall.
“That’s enough. Nobody has permission to dig on the Silver Spurs.”
“Evidently your grandmother gave it,” Bane pointed out.
“Well, that permission is being rescinded, and I’m going to make sure Gramma Mel and this professor know it.”
“Did you talk to Caldwell?” Flipper asked.
“Yes, but he’ll go along with anything my grandmother says. Now I have to head straight home instead of making that pit stop in Mississippi like I’d planned. Hell, that means I’m giving up a chance to get laid for this foolishness.”
Mac grinned. “But what if Jesse James did hide some of his loot on your land? If I recall, he and his gang robbed a number of banks in and around the Missouri area.”
Gavin frowned as he zipped up his gear and faced his friends. “There’s not any loot on the Silver Spurs and nobody can convince me otherwise.”
Layla Harris smiled as she accepted the plate of cookies. “Ms. Melody, I wished you wouldn’t have gone to the trouble.”
She said the words out of politeness, knowing they weren’t true. Nobody could bake like Melody Blake and she was glad the older woman not only liked doing so but also enjoyed sharing her baked goods with Layla. Especially when the snack included a delicious tall glass of milk that had been produced right here on this ranch.
“No trouble at all,” Melody Blake said, smiling. “Besides, I enjoy your company. It can get lonely in these parts.”
Layla knew the Silver Spurs was a good half-hour car ride from town. At least Ms. Melody had neighbors living fairly close who checked in on her regularly. Layla had discovered the land owned by the majority of the people in this area had been in their families for generations and most of it was used for ranching cattle.
There was something special