Calder Born, Calder Bred

by Janet Dailey

  “I’ve met a couple,” Repp admitted.

  “I want you to get on the phone and call them. See if you can find out anything. They’ll talk to you before they’ll talk to me or the authorities.” After all, Repp was Cathleen’s boyfriend.

  “Yes, sir.” He moved to the phone extension in the living room.

  “Find out if they can tell you how much money she had with her,” Ty added. “And whether she planned to travel by bus or hitchhike.” Then he turned to the foreman, Jobe Garvey. “I want a man posted at every gate into the Triple C, in case she’s on her way home. In the meantime, I’ll contact the authorities so they can start searching for her.”

  The new moon was a cold sliver of light in the night-black sky. There wasn’t enough star glitter to make more than jagged silhouettes of the rough rimrock country against the horizon. Black shadows and dark shapes constantly loomed in front of her and on either side as Cathleen trudged along the rutted, little-traveled track, stumbling on the uneven ground she couldn’t see.

  A thousand times she wished for a flashlight. And a thousand more times she wished she hadn’t left the highway. The farther she walked, the more uncertain she became that she had picked the right ranch lane. She should have asked the driver who’d given her a lift to wait until she’d checked to be sure, but she’d been so positive. If she got lost out here, she’d never hear the end of it.

  The sudden flapping of wings startled her as a night bird, disturbed by her passing, flew from its roost in a nearby pine tree. Cat paused to catch her breath in the cold night air. She was winded and physically exhausted, already regretting the impulsive actions that had brought her to this point. At the time she made her decision, such drastic measures had seemed necessary. Now her bravado was fading.

  Something rustled in the needle-covered ground next to the rutted lane. Cat started forward again. Her legs ached as if she’d walked for miles, and she’d turned her ankle so many times it was sore. There had to be something at the end of this lane, so she kept walking rather than turn back.

  After another mile that seemed like two, dark objects began to take shape against the blackness of the ground. They resembled small buildings, and Cat started walking faster. There weren’t any lights showing. At this distance, she couldn’t tell whether they were abandoned or if the occupants were asleep.

  A horse whickered suspiciously from the corral, and Cat was reassured the buildings weren’t vacant. As her approach carried her closer, the place began to look more familiar, even in the dark. Renewed confidence gave her a fresh burst of energy, and she broke into a stumbling run the last thirty yards to the house.

  “Who’s that?” The voice came from the porch shadows of the darkened house.

  “Uncle Culley? It’s me, Cat,” she rushed, out of breath. “I was just about convinced I was lost.”

  Boards creaked beneath his feet; then his dark shape moved out of the shadows and came down the steps to meet her. The starlight in the clearing finally gave form and a face to him.

  “Cathleen. What are you doing here?” He gripped her shoulders, then reached a hand to turn her face into the dim starlight. “Are you hurt?”

  “No, just tired. I walked all the way from the road and I—” Her aches and exhaustion weren’t important now. She quickly switched from complaining to the reason she was here. “At the funeral you said if I ever needed help, I could count on you. Did you mean it?”

  “Yes, I meant it.” Just for a minute, he fiercely and protectively hugged this precious image of his sister. Then Culley pulled away, made self-conscious by the physical contact. “You say you walked all that way. You must be tired and half frozen. Let’s get you in the house and put some hot coffee down you.”

  “Thanks.” She felt humbled that he hadn’t even asked what kind of trouble she was in. Since she was involving him, it seemed only fair to tell him. She made her confession as they walked up the short flight of steps to the front stoop of the small house. “I ran away from school. I just couldn’t stay there anymore.” Her reasons were too flimsy when voiced aloud, but they were very real to her. “I know my brother is going to be furious with me when he finds out . . . and I’m just not ready to face him yet.”

  “He can be as mad as he likes.” He opened the door and reached inside to switch on the overhead light before letting Cat precede him into the house. “But I’ll see that he doesn’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

  “I wanted to go home, but I can’t. He’s just going to insist that I go back to school, and I don’t think I could face that. I thought, maybe ... I could stay here with you until I could figure out something.”

  A tenderness seemed to radiate through his face. “This is your home. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.”

  Inside the house, he sat her down at the table, insisted on hanging up her coat for her and bringing her coffee, eager as a pup to please her any way he could. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything else? Maybe something to eat?”

  “No, I ate at the hospital.” The warmth from the stove was seeping into her aching body and driving out the chill. All the tension and anxiety over the possibility of facing her irate brother tonight was melting . . . enough so that she reconsidered his offer. “Do you have anything sweet—like chocolate cake or anything?” The minute she asked, Cat doubted a bachelor would go to the trouble of baking for himself.

  “No.” Disappointment flickered in his expression. “But I’ve got some store-brought cookies.” He went to the cupboard and returned to the table with a sealed container holding less than a dozen shortbread cookies. “There you are.” He watched her anxiously to see if the alternative met with her approval.

  Even if she hadn’t liked them, Cat would have eaten them. She took a couple, dunking them in her coffee and nibbling at the coffee-soaked softness of them. “They’re good. Thanks,” she assured him, and he smiled with a degree of relief. Cat ate the cookies and talked, telling him about her decision to run away, the visit to the hospital, and the ride she’d cadged as far as his lane. When she reached for another cookie, she realized there were only two left. “Here.” She pushed the container to him. “You better have these before I eat them all.”

  “Go ahead,” he insisted and shoved it back. “FU get more.”

  After a small hesitation, she gave a little shrug of her shoulders and took the last two cookies and started dunking them in her coffee. “Nobody understands the way I feel.” She sighed.

  “You know I was just about your age when my momma died,” her uncle said. “Things just never were right after that.”

  “I’ll never understand why their plane had to crash.” The anger and frustration of deeply held pain began to surface as her tiredness made her more vulnerable. “Why did that oil line break? Why did she have to die? I’m so tired of everyone telling me it was God’s will. It wasn’t. It couldn’t have been. Why would He want to do that? It wasn’t right!” Her chin began to quiver as she lowered it and fought back the tears that welled in her eyes.

  “It wasn’t right,” he agreed and got up from the table, uncomfortable with her tears. “But I’m going to do something about that. I’ve got it all planned out, so don’t worry about nothin’. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Take care of what?” Cat frowned in bewilderment as she lifted her head, tilting it to one side. “I don’t understand.”

  But he clammed up and wouldn’t explain. “After the long day you’ve had, you must be pretty tired. I’ll put clean sheets on my bed so you can turn in.”

  “But—”

  “I don’t sleep much anyways,” he said before she could protest. “When I get tired, I’ll just catch a nap on the sofa.”

  “Then let me fix the bed.”

  “You just sit there and finish your coffee and cookies,” her uncle insisted.

  25

  The sheriff leaned forward in his swivel-based office chair, his barrel chest pushing at the edge of the desk he res
ted his arms on. “Look, I’ll explain it to you again, Mr. Calder,” he said with weary patience and began ticking off on his fingers the points as he made them. “Now, the law says you can’t file a missing-persons report until the individual has been missing for twenty-four hours or more. And the school told you that they didn’t discover your sister was not in her room until suppertime last night, which is only fourteen hours ago. You gotta wait ten more hours to file your report. Legally there’s nothing I can do until then.”

  “Then, dammit, do something illegal!” Ty demanded, coming to his feet and placing his fists on the desktop to lean on them. “I want her found! And I don’t intend to wait ten hours before someone starts looking. I’ll finance a private search for her if I have to!”

  “You have to understand the law’s position.” The sheriff settled complacently back in his chair. “Juveniles run away all the time. After a night alone, they usually call home, crying and saying how sorry they are. You go on home and wait for that phone call,” he urged with a touch of smugness. “If she don’t call in ten hours, you come back and see me.”

  “If anything’s happened to her, I’ll come back to see you in hell!” Tired from no sleep and frustrated by the lack of cooperation from the authorities, Ty swung away before he followed his threatening words up with action.

  Long slicing strides carried him out of the newly renovated sheriff’s office, courtesy of the new tax revenues generated by Dy-Corp coal workers. Blue Moon was expanding as fast as they could put in streets, sometimes faster, with mobile homes sitting on a plot of ground fifty yards from a road and accessible by a path worn into the grass.

  In his pickup, Ty gunned the motor and pulled onto the dirt street. A dog ran out, barking angrily and biting at the tires, chasing the truck until satisfied it was leaving the neighborhood. When Ty reached the two-lane highway, he had simmered down. It was plain he wasn’t going to get any efficient outside help to look for Cat. He’d have to organize something himself.

  After he swung the pickup onto the highway, he made almost a full U-turn to park in front of Sally’s Place. He rubbed his eyes tiredly as he climbed the steps and entered the cafe. The place was half full with morning coffee drinkers. None of them he knew, but he heard his name being passed around. He paused at the counter, not taking a stool.

  “Hello, Ty.” Sally Brogan looked mildly surprised to see him. “How’s your father? I was up to see him last week and he seemed to be doing so much better.” Without asking, she poured a cup of coffee and set it in front of him.

  “He is improving. My sister hasn’t been around here, has she? Last night, maybe?”

  “Cathleen? No. Why?” She noticed the haggard and raw lines in his face, and concern began to filter into her expression.

  “She’s missing—ran away from school.” He took a quick sip of the hot coffee. “Can I use your phone? I want to check back at the ranch and see if they’ve heard from her.”

  “Sure. Just go on through.” She motioned toward the swinging door to the kitchen. “I’ll ask around the tables and see if anyone here remembers seeing her.”

  “Thanks.”

  When he entered the kitchen, the cook, DeeDee Rains, gave him a big smile. “It’s been a long time since you’ve been around. What can I fix for you? Bacon and eggs? Some hashbrowns, maybe?”

  “Nothing, thanks,” Ty refused as he reached for the wall phone just inside the door.

  “I made doughnuts this morning.” She wiped her hands on the white apron and used a napkin to wrap two frosted doughnuts. “Your uncle came to the back door earlier and took a batch home with him while they were still hot. He wouldn’t come inside and eat anything, though. That crazy Culley, he’s quite a character.”

  The doughnuts still had a warm smell that reminded him he hadn’t eaten in some time, so he smiled his thanks to her and accepted the doughnuts she handed him. The distant ring of a telephone finally stopped and a voice sounded in his ear.

  “Yeah, let me speak to Stumpy.” With his forefinger, he pushed at the front of his hat brim to tip it to the back of his head.

  “Is that you, Ty?” The voice belonged to Jessy.

  “Yeah, it’s me. Has there been any word from Cat?” He tiredly leaned an elbow against the wall.

  “Nothing as of twenty minutes ago,” she said. “Same for you?”

  “Yeah. Let me speak to your father.”

  “Sure.”

  There was a clunk of the receiver being set down. In the background, there was the low murmur of voices, the words indistinguishable. Then Stumpy Niles was on the line.

  “I spoke to the sheriff,” Ty said. “And he was about as much help as a drop of water in the desert. So we’re on our own.”

  “I could have told you that,” Stumpy offered dryly. “It’s not wise to count on getting help from anyone but yourself.”

  “I know, you can’t wait for somebody else to solve your problems.” Ty repeated the saying that he’d heard time and again. “We’re going to start actively looking for Cathleen ourselves. I want you to organize the boys into pairs and drive every inch of highway between here and Helena. I want them to hit every road stop and bus stop along the way. I’ll be at The Homestead by eleven. We’ll use that as the headquarters. If they find anyone who thinks they have seen her, they’re to call immediately. Got that?”

  “I’ll have them on the road in less than twenty minutes,” Stumpy promised, glad some action was finally being taken.

  Before he left the kitchen, he called a thanks to DeeDee again for the doughnuts. Sally passed the word that no one in the restaurant remembered seeing Cat but they’d keep an eye out for her. Ty flipped some coins on the counter to pay for the coffee he hadn’t drunk and walked out of the cafe to his truck. He swung into the cab and jammed one of the doughnuts between his teeth as he started the motor. The second he left in its napkin on the seat. The doughnut was so fresh the first bite nearly melted in his mouth as he started to reverse onto the highway.

  A horn honked. “Hey, mister!” A man shouted from his car. “You got a low tire in back.”

  Ty waved a thanks and pulled over to the gas pumps next door, not wanting to be delayed by a flat on the way home. Emmett Fedderson plodded out of the store. “What d’ya need?” he asked.

  “Just some air in the rear tire. One of them’s low,” Ty said and hopped out of the truck to check it himself, still munching on the doughnut.

  “Is that one of DeeDee’s?” Emmett asked as he pulled the air hose around to the back of the truck.

  “Yeah.” Ty crouched down and unscrewed the cap from the valve.

  “Your whole family’s got a sweet tooth this morning,” the man observed and passed Ty the air hose.

  The remark instantly put him alert. “What do you mean? Was my sister by your store this morning?”

  “Your sister, no. It was your uncle—O’Rourke.” He shook his head, mildly amused by his own thoughts. “That crazy Culley was waiting outside when I unlocked the doors this morning. He bought two sacks of cookies, a chocolate-cake mix and frosting, as well as a ten-pound bag of sugar. I never knew him to buy that much sweet stuff in a year.”

  “Chocolate cake.” Ty wasn’t even conscious of saying the words out loud. It was Cat’s favorite. In his mind, there was a vision of Cat embracing O’Rourke at the funeral . . . sharing their grief, he’d said at the time.

  “Aren’t you gonna put air in that tire?” Fedderson prodded him.

  “Yeah . . . yeah.” It was an absent response, and he fitted the hose connection onto the valve with equal absentness. It was incredible. He would never have looked for Cat at the Shamrock Ranch in a million years. With the tire filled, he straightened. “Do me a favor,” he asked and didn’t wait for Fedderson to agree. “Call the Triple C and talk to Stumpy Niles. Tell him not to send the men. Tell him I’m on my way to O’Rourke’s place and not to do anything until he hears from me.”

  “Sure.” The request made him curious. “Wha
t’s going on?”

  Ty didn’t take the time to answer him. Right now, he just wanted to get to O’Rourke’s place and find out if his hunch was right.

  The second doughnut lay forgotten on the seat. In this country, there was no such thing as short distances. Ty had an hour’s worth of traveling or more ahead of him.

  After she had slipped the cake pan into the preheated oven, Cat walked back to the counter and picked up the mixing bowl. With her finger, she wiped the sides and wandered to the kitchen table, licking the chocolate batter from her finger.

  “This is the best part,” she told Culley, her tongue darting out to clean the corners of her lips, and offered him the bowl. “Want some?”

  His mouth curved with indulgent humor as he shook his head in quiet refusal. “You go ahead.” He’d smiled more in the last few hours than he remembered smiling all his life. Pleasure and contentment ran through him. A light glowed in his dark eyes. He’d passed the fifty mark and once again life seemed worth living.

  With the bowl wiped clean, Cat licked every last bit of batter from her fingers and carried the bowl to the sink. “It’s been ages since I’ve messed around in the kitchen,” she declared. “It’s fun.”

  “Your momma used to do a lot of baking,” he recalled. “She’d go out and work on the ranch all day long, just like a man, then come home an’ cook our meals an’ clean the house.” But he didn’t want to dwell on the past. “There’s still a couple of doughnuts left.”

  “I couldn’t eat any more,” Cat insisted. “I must have eaten a dozen already. Besides, I have to save room for the cake. What I need is some exercise.” She laughed. “After that long walk last night, I never thought I’d say that again.”

  “Maybe later I can saddle a couple horses and we can go riding, I can show you around the ranch. It’s pretty country, but it’s not much good for raising cattle—not enough water and not enough grass.”

  “I’d like that, but”—she looked down at the regulation pleated skirt—“I don’t have anything to wear but this dumb school skirt. I was going to have the school send my clothes home. I’m afraid this won’t work for riding horseback.”