Calder Born, Calder Bred

by Janet Dailey

  “No. And Dad won’t be home either,” he informed her. “I ran into him on his way home from the Phelps ranch. We’re at Sally’s now, and we’re going to grab a bite to eat, so you don’t have to worry about cooking anything for us.”

  “Okay.” Maggie’s reaction wavered between pleasure because Chase and Ty were obviously getting along well enough that they wanted to prolong the time together, and uneasiness because Chase was at Sally’s. Lately it seemed he had been stopping in there a lot, or maybe she was just sensitive because things weren’t well between them.

  “I don’t know what time Dad will head back, but it’ll probably be late before I get home,” Ty warned her.

  “Just try to be quiet so you don’t wake Cathleen.” Her son was of an age where she didn’t attempt to dictate his hours.

  “She wakes up every time I try to sneak in.” He laughed. “I’m better off stampeding up the stairs. She never hears me then.”

  “Take care and drive carefully. The same goes for your father.” When she hung up, Maggie wondered why Ty had been the one to call her instead of Chase. But she didn’t want to think about that.

  When Chase pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen, he was greeted by the sight of Sally on her hands and knees, craning her head to look under the large dishwashing sink. DeeDee Rains, the tall Blackfoot woman who did the cooking, smiled and opened her mouth to speak to him, but Chase held up a silencing finger. Her smile broadened in understanding as he moved quietly in behind Sally and leaned on the sink.

  “Did you lose a quarter?” he asked.

  The unexpected sound of his voice startled her. She tried to sit back on her heels too quickly and knocked her head on the sink. She was rubbing a spot beneath the copper-red hair when she finally looked at him with accusing eyes and a forgiving smile. The kitchen heat and her exertions under the sink brought a slight flush to her pale complexion.

  “I’m sorry, Sally. Did you hurt yourself?” Chase crouched beside her and reached out to feel her head where she’d banged it on the sink. His hand came away when he didn’t find any knot.

  “It didn’t knock any sense into me, if that’s what you’re wondering,” she replied, not able to mask the pleasure that glowed in her blue eyes.

  He noticed the wrench in her hand. “What seems to be the problem?”

  “Water started gushing out of the hot-water pipe,” she explained with a heavy sigh. “Luckily it was just a loose connection. At first, I thought a pipe had broken, and I could see this week’s profits literally running down the drain.”

  “Give me the wrench. I’ll make sure it’s tight.”

  “There’s a lot of water on the floor,” Sally warned. “Be careful you don’t get wet or slip.”

  While he made a few more turns with the wrench to make sure the coupler was tight, Sally fetched a rag mop and began sopping up the pooling water on the linoleum floor. When he’d finished, Chase stood back and supervised her mopping of the floor.

  “You missed a spot.” He pointed to an area that still had a water sheen.

  “Just what are you doing in the kitchen?” Sally swiped the mop at the spot, then leaned on the long handle. “Other than giving orders, I mean.”

  He chuckled at her question. “I came back to have you throw a couple of thick steaks on the grill.”

  “Two?” she repeated. “First Ty comes in and orders two beers, and now you’re ordering two—” She stopped, the significance finally registering. “Are you and Ty together?”

  He nodded as he sought out the quiet pleasure that ran through her expression. “I realized I hadn’t talked to my son in a long while. I don’t know whether it’s because we’re both away from the ranch or not, but there doesn’t seem to be as much tension. I—” Chase stopped himself, realizing he should be saying these things to Maggie.

  “I’m glad for you,” she insisted quietly, then seemed to withdraw, too. “I’m glad for both of you.” She half turned to call to the cook, “Burn two thick ones, Dee Dee.” Hesitantly her glance came back to Chase, then fell away. “I’d better put this bucket in the back room.”

  When she took a step, she forgot the wet floor would be slick. Her foot slid out from under her. Instinctively Chase reached out to catch her and haul her against his body to steady her. She pressed a hand to her breastbone and tilted her head to laugh shakily.

  “My heart’s going a mile a minute,” Sally declared.

  “Is it?” Chase was conscious of the woman’s softness against him, the fullness of her hips and the heaving movements of her breasts. He laid his hand alongside her neck as if seeking its throbbing vein, but his thumb stroked her jaw. He felt the change in her at his caress, the sudden lift in tension.

  “Chase,” she murmured, warning him against the direction his thoughts were taking.

  “There are times when a man gets tired of fighting and struggling all the time, Sally,” he murmured, “when all he wants in his life is peace. You’re a remarkable woman, so calm and tranquil. I need that strength.”

  “You always see me as being strong, but I’m not strong, Chase. I’m weak. I know you don’t love me and you never will. Yet I’m still here.”

  He sensed the giving in her—the giving that expected nothing in return—no lies and no promises. She didn’t ask for his love, because she knew it already belonged to Maggie.

  It would be so simple to have the comfort of her body—so very, very simple. His head came down until his mouth was poised above her soft, inviting lips. The flutter of her breath was against his face; the warm smells of food mingled with her scent. His hunger tempted him to take the sustenance being offered.

  At the large, flat grill, DeeDee Rains turned the sizzling slabs of steak and stood back as the fat splattered into liquid grease, smoke and steam rising in a hiss of heat. She was aware of the couple behind her, finding themselves in the familiar pattern of an old affair.

  The door to the kitchen started to swing inward, the movement catching her eye. For several seconds, it was held slightly ajar, then released to swing shut. It was likely the pair had been seen, but DeeDee didn’t dwell on it. She already had a strong suspicion how it was going to turn out.

  That Calder pride would bend most men’s shoulders, but they put high stock in it. She knew it gave them no room. When the couple parted with embrace unconsummated, DeeDee wasn’t surprised. No matter how it had ended tonight, nothing would have come of it. Pride was a funny thing. It would either break a man or make him stronger.

  She said not a word to Sally when she came over by the grill and made busywork of replenishing the supply of bread. Her face was pale and her eyes were bright, close to tears. As DeeDee moved past her to grab a handful of french fries out of the freezer, she laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently. Sally gripped it to hold it there a second longer, then released it and brushed off the front of her apron.

  “Sounds like we’re going to have a busy night,” she declared with forced brightness as voices and hearty laughter made a steady background din.

  Ty leaned on the table, both hands wrapped around the second glass of beer. He’d taken one drink out of it, barely tasting it. The shock of seeing his father embracing Sally Brogan kept him numb. It was as if he couldn’t feel anything, yet all the while his mind searched wildly through the blankness of his thoughts for something. There was a sense of being betrayed, but he didn’t know how or why.

  The other chair was pulled out from the table, causing Ty to look up. There was no expression in his father’s face, but it looked closed as he sat down. The blood ran quicker through Ty’s veins, breaking through some of the numbness.

  “Did you get hold of your mother?”

  “Yeah.” His voice was stiff, with an abrasive edge, as Ty struggled to decide whether he should confront his father with what he’d seen. “What took you so long in the kitchen?” He flashed a challenging look at his father, then let it fall quickly away to the beer glass he held.

  �
��The union had worked loose on a water pipe under the sink, so I gave Sally a hand tightening it.” It was a simple, straight answer, an excuse so readily provided. Ty snorted out a short, low laugh.

  “Is there something amusing in that?”

  Doubt fought with his hot anger because a part of Ty didn’t want to believe what he’d seen. He wanted to come up with some other explanation. Maybe his father had only been comforting Sally or she’d gotten something in her eye. Maybe it had only looked like he was going to kiss her. Ty cursed himself for not watching longer.

  His father waited for an answer. Ty lifted the glass of beer toward his mouth. “I just can’t picture Chase Calder as a plumber.” He poured a swallow of beer into his mouth and held it there, rinsing off the bad taste that coated his tongue. Finally he let it run down his throat, never taking his gaze from the beer glass again cradled between both hands. “I always thought you were something special.” His hands tightened knuckle-white on the glass.

  The remark prompted Chase to recall Maggie’s insistence that their son regarded him as some kind of mortal god. He couldn’t feel less godlike than he did right now.

  “I’m a man, Ty.” Weariness pulled at him, weariness of everyone expecting him to be strong for them when he had trouble being strong for himself. “I get lonely and tired . . . and fed up just like everyone else.”

  Part of the reply struck a nerve. “Why should you feel lonely when you’ve got Mom?” This time Ty leveled a glance at his father, trying to flatten the dark glitter of anger in his eyes.

  “Just because you love someone, that doesn’t mean you stop being lonely,” he replied while his narrowed eyes flicked keenly over Ty.

  Sally Brogan approached the table carrying two plates mounded with french fries and draped with T-bones. Ty avoided looking at her and lifted his beer glass to drink it dry while she set the meal in front of him along with silverware wrapped in napkins, the steak knives lying across the crisply cooked meat.

  He rocked his chair onto its back legs, observing his father while the red-haired woman placed a food-laden plate in front of him and paused at his side. “Anything else?”

  “Not for me, thanks,” his father refused with an air of reserve and swung her a brief glance that seemed hard with regret.

  “How about you, Ty?” So calm-sounding and natural.

  The chair came down on all four legs with a loud clump. “I’ll have another beer.” He pushed the empty glass onto the table in her direction but Ty never looked at her.

  The salt and pepper shakers were exchanged without conversation. A fresh glass of beer was set in front of Ty and he mumbled a short thanks. The meal appeared to occupy the attention of both of them, but Ty’s thoughts continued wrestling with this discovery about his father.

  If his mother ever found out he was carrying on with Sally Brogan, she would be brutally hurt. How could a man love a woman and do that to her? Yet was it any different than his relationship with Tara: loving her while using other women to satisfy his body’s lust? He instantly rejected the comparison. It wouldn’t be like that after they were married.

  He didn’t know how to deal with the situation, on one hand hating his father for betraying his mother this way, and on the other trying to find excuses that would justify his father’s behavior. Every time the hot bile of resentment rose in his throat, he washed it down with cold beer.

  When they had finished the meal, his father ordered a cup of coffee, but Ty asked for another beer. “In a few weeks you’ll be leaving again to start your last year of college.” His father lit a thin cheroot and blew the smoke upward to join the hazy layer of air near the ceiling. “I guess you know I’ll always think your time would have been better spent on the ranch. But at least it’s nearly over and you’ll be back for good.” When Ty failed to respond, Chase lifted his head, sensing something was wrong. “Or do you have other plans that I don’t know about?”

  “No. None.” The sweating beer glass left a wet circle on the table, and he turned it absently within that perimeter. “I’ll be coming back after I graduate.”

  “You had me wondering for a minute.” His mouth relaxed into a faint smile. There was a small break in the conversation, a lull that was filled by the growing hum of laughing voices in the background until his father spoke again. “Dyson will be flying up sometime next week for a visit. He called this morning to say he was going to be in Wyoming. Since he was so close he decided he’d take an extra couple of days and stop by the ranch.”

  “Will Tara be with him?” Ty had to ask.

  “Not that he mentioned.” He glanced at Ty while he tapped the slim cigar in the ashtray. “Are you serious about her?”

  “I’m going to marry her,” he stated.

  His father took his time digesting this assertion as he idly rolled his cigar. “She’s a beautiful girl.” His glance moved with deceptive laziness back to Ty. “Are you sure you love her?”

  No one had ever been able to explain to him what love was. With Tara, he had discovered it to be hunger—a driving hunger that ate away at him until he craved her the way a starving man would sell his soul for a loaf of bread.

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “I won’t tell you that you’re too young for marriage, even though I think you are. If she’s got you tied up in the kind of knots I think she has, you’re beyond knowing what you feel or listening to anyone else. But if you do love her, bring her to the ranch before you marry her—for her sake.”

  “Why?” At the moment, TY resented any advice from his father regarding marriage or women.

  “Some people can’t adapt to the isolation. Life out here won’t be like what she’s known. There aren’t any fancy shops or theaters or country clubs, or so many things she takes for granted. You owe her the right to know what kind of life she’ll have after you are married.”

  “Mother enjoys it here,” he stated.

  “Your mother was born to the country. Tara is city-bred.”

  “And that makes all the difference?” There was a trace of sarcasm in his voice at this constant preaching on the subject.

  “If she doesn’t like it here, you’ll find yourself with an insurmountable problem,” his father warned. “Every marriage has its problems.”

  “What’s yours?” Ty demanded.

  His father drew back, eyes narrowing. “That’s a private matter between your mother and me, something we have to work out alone.”

  “First you have to want to work it out.” The relationship between his parents had been strained for a considerable time now, ever since they had taken opposite sides on the issue of his college education. Maybe his Gather’s solution had been to take a mistress.

  “If you’re hinting at something, say it out plain,” his father challenged. “Otherwise, don’t be trying to give advice on something you know nothing about.”

  The reprimand forced Ty to contain his half-formed accusations, but he did so grudgingly. As a twenty-one-year-old adult, he wanted to respect their privacy. Yet, as a son, he could not stand aside indifferently. He lifted the glass of beer, feeling sick and angry inside.

  The other waitress came by the table with the coffeepot to refill Chase’s cup, but he covered the top of it with his hand. “No more for me. It’s time I was heading home before Maggie decides I’ve lost my way.” He reached for the meal check that had been left on the table as he stood up. “The dinner’s on me tonight.”

  After his father had left, Ty sat alone at the table a while longer. The beers he’d consumed were beginning to take effect. He had trouble keeping a run of thoughts going. His mind kept skipping back and forth from his father to Tara. He wanted to talk to her—to hear her voice.

  Standing up, he shoved his hand inside his pants pocket and took out his change. The movement seemed to make the blood rush through him faster. He was suddenly feeling good, all loose and untrammeled. And if there was a little edge to his nerves, a little testiness, then it just heightened the other feelings
.

  The restaurant and bar had filled up. Some of the families with younger children were leaving while local cowboys and ranch workers filed into the cafe in twos and threes. Most of them Ty knew by sight if not by name. They hailed him with greetings which he returned as he worked his way to the pay telephone on the wall outside the rest rooms.

  A cue stick was drawn back by its shooter bending over the pool table. Ty sidestepped it and jostled a towheaded boy of eighteen, his freckled face sunburned except for the white band of his forehead.

  “Sorry, Andersen,” Ty apologized to the son from the family that farmed some land adjoining the south boundary of the Triple C. There was a passel of kids, and Ty could never keep their names straight.

  “It’s okay.” The lanky boy shifted, giving Ty a glimpse of the girl with him.

  “Hey, Jessy.” There was something taunting in his lazy smile as he slipped into the local dialect. “Hell, I ain’t never seen you without a hat.” He mussed her thick mane of hair, the dim light dulling its golden streaks. “Looks like the best damned roper on the Triple C has finally lassoed herself a date.”

  “Maybe someday I can teach you how to rope so you can be as good as me,” she retorted.

  Ty nudged the Andersen boy with his elbow. “Better watch her. She’s a sassy thing.” He took no notice at all of the white jeans she wore or of the plain cut of her shiny blue blouse.

  Without waiting for a response from the quiet farm boy, he shoved off, aiming once again for the telephone. When the operator came on the line, he gave her the number in Texas and dropped in the amount of coins required for the call.

  “Hello, I’d like to speak to Tara.” He put a hand over his ear, trying to shut out the noise from the jukebox and the bar area.

  “Who’s calling?”

  “Ty Calder.” The same impersonal voice requested him to wait, which Ty did, impatiently.

  “Hello, Ty? This is E.J. I’m afraid Tara Lee has gone out for the evening. Was it something important?”

  The good feeling slipped away from him. A frown gathered as he tried to come up with an explanation for the call. “I just wanted to talk to her,” he mumbled and repeated himself, “I just wanted to talk, that’s all.”