* * *
The days took on an easy rhythm. The three of them had breakfast together, then Cal and his grandmother huddled together to discuss the ranch. Occasionally Marilou sat in on the conversations, liking them best when they veered into family history. Though listening at times emphasized her place as an outsider, she was still delighted that Cal was slowly beginning to acknowledge his place as a McDonald heir.
“Your books are a shambles,” he announced late one morning, rubbing his temples after hours of staring at page after page of figures written in his grandmother’s cramped handwriting. Marilou had long since given up trying to decipher it and sat sipping yet another cup of English breakfast tea. She was becoming addicted to the stuff. Cal’s grandmother provided a different variety of tea for practically every hour of the day.
“You need to get a computer,” Cal said, not for the first time. To Marilou it was beginning to be like background music. Her thoughts wandered, then refocused as he added, “Or at the very least an accountant.”
“I’m too old to learn all that technical nonsense,” his grandmother insisted predictably, glowering at him. “And if I’ve learned one thing about money, it’s that no one will watch over it as well as you do it yourself.”
“If that isn’t the most old-fashioned, set-in-your-ways thinking I’ve ever heard,” he grumbled. “I could never run a business, if I didn’t share some of the responsibilities.”
“I have men to run the cattle,” his grandmother offered.
“I’m surprised,” he retorted.
Marilou chuckled. She’d been listening to Cal and his grandmother bickering like this since breakfast. They’d had the exact same argument the past three mornings. As far as she was concerned, it was heavenly. Only strangers maintained a polite facade. Families fought and nagged and loved in equal measures. Apparently Elena agreed. She’d stopped hovering over Mrs. McDonald and now bustled around with an approving smile on her face, content that the uproar in the house was a happy one.
“Why should I hire an accountant when I have you to figure it out for me?” his grandmother finally said slyly.
Cal threw down his pencil. “Because I won’t be around.”
“Hmph!”
“Grandmother, I have told you repeatedly that I have to go back to Florida by the beginning of the week. I have my own business to run and I’ve been away too long already.”
“Race horses,” she said with a derisive sniff. “Cattle, that’s the thing. Been good enough for the Whitfields for all these generations. Don’t see why it’s not good enough for you.”
“I’m only one-quarter Whitfield.”
“Must be the stubborn quarter,” Marilou offered.
Two pairs of blue eyes glowered at her. She grinned happily. “I don’t suppose I could talk the two of you into going for a drive instead of sitting around sniping at each other. It’s a lovely day. The air is balmy at last. Elena said she’d pack us a picnic—fried chicken, deviled eggs, the works.”
A spark of longing flared in Mrs. McDonald’s eyes, then she shook her head. “The ground’s too cold for these old bones, but you two run along.”
“We’ll take a blanket,” Marilou promised. “You’ll be fine.”
A smile played about the old lady’s lips, and for an instant she seemed lost in reminiscence. “It would be pleasant, I suppose. Your grandfather and I…” She sighed. “Well, that was a long time ago.”
“Please come,” Marilou begged. “You can tell us more about the family.”
She knew that was a surefire lure. Mrs. McDonald had been using every opportunity to seduce Cal with those fascinating tales of his ancestors, men who’d pioneered in the West, surviving droughts and natural disasters, forging what had become something of a cattle empire. Apparently she hoped to convince him that he would be abandoning his heritage if he didn’t stay and claim the ranch as his own. Periodically Marilou had dared to add her own subtle hints along the same lines.
“If you two are planning to gang up on me again, I’ll pass and stay here,” he said now, but Marilou caught the tolerant amusement in his eyes. He was beginning to care for the old woman. She could hear the tenderness in his voice more and more frequently.
“You aren’t afraid of a couple of women, are you?” she inquired innocently.
“Damned right I am. When it comes to the two of you, any man would be a fool if he didn’t watch his backside all the time. Last night some crumbling old diary turned up under my pillow. I don’t suppose either of you knows how it got there.”
“Not me,” Marilou said cheerfully. “I’ve been banned from that end of the hall.”
“And you?” he inquired, directing his gaze at his grandmother.
“I might have mentioned something to Elena…”
“Lord, you mean she’s in on it, too? I haven’t got a prayer.”
“I like a man who recognizes a worthy opponent,” Mrs. McDonald said approvingly. “Now stop dillydallying, boy. If we’re going, let’s go. Elena will be furious if we ruin her lunch.”
As soon as they were all in the car, Cal turned to Marilou. “I suppose you know exactly where you want to go.”
She grinned. “Well, your grandmother did mention that there was a creek along the eastern edge of the property.”
He sighed. “How far?”
Marilou exchanged a conspiratorial glance with Mrs. McDonald. “Not far,” they said in unison.
It took a little over an hour to get there. Cal was muttering under his breath by the time they finally came to the creek that wound its way through the distant pastures. Even he had to admit, though, that the setting was spectacular. Wildflowers had painted the spring landscape in shades of purple, yellow and red. Sunlight glinted off the shallow creek bed. Cattle roamed in the distance. And on the far edge of the horizon were the faint purple shadows of the mountains.
From the back seat of the car, Marilou heard Mrs. McDonald sigh. “It’s every bit as beautiful this time of year as I remember,” she said.
Cal turned to study her, a worried frown on his brow. “How long has it been since you were out here?”
“A while,” she evaded.
“Grandmother?”
“Last spring.”
“Why so long?”
Marilou already knew the answer to that. Elena had confided that over the past year Mrs. McDonald had found it increasingly difficult to get around. The doctors blamed it on osteoporosis and arthritis. There were days, the housekeeper lamented, when the old woman wasn’t able to get out of bed at all. Even now she was in far more pain than she’d been letting on to the two of them, but she’d apparently been determined that Cal would never see it. Marilou felt it wasn’t her secret to share, but she hoped that soon Mrs. McDonald would tell Cal the whole truth about her rapidly deteriorating condition. She also knew that the old woman didn’t want him staying on out of pity.
Even now she didn’t so much as hint at the truth. She merely said, “I was busy. Besides, I pay that lazy manager to see to things for me.”
“If you don’t trust your books to anyone, how can you entrust responsibility for the rest to someone you’ve repeatedly described to me as lazy and inept?”
“What choice do I have? I can’t ride a horse anymore. The men don’t take orders well from an old lady. Even Garrett’s got more command over them than I would.”
“Maybe I should have a talk with him.”
Mrs. McDonald smiled contentedly. “Yes, dear, why don’t you do that? I expect Garrett back any day now.”
“If you think this Garrett’s reliable, maybe you should try giving him more authority. I suspect he’s chafing at the bit to really take charge of this place.”
“That chance will come along soon enough. When I can’t draw breath enough to make a few decisions, I’ll just lay down and die. Then, since you keep insisting that you will be nothing more than an absentee landlord, Garrett can take over.”
Marilou caught Cal’s agitatio
n. He was practically grinding his teeth. “Grandmother, how many times do I have to tell you that I do not want you to leave this place to me?”
She waved off his comment, as she had each of the other times. “And just who should I leave it to, if not to family?”
He didn’t answer right away. Finally he suggested quietly, “You could leave it to Mother.”
“She turned her back on it.”
“You sent her away.”
“She could have come back.”
“Hat in hand, I suppose?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I never wanted her to beg. It would have been better for everyone if I’d been wrong about the marriage. I wasn’t.”
“You told me you’re sorry. Why can’t you tell her?”
“I told her. She didn’t want to hear it.”
“That was years ago. Try again.”
Marilou was startled by Cal’s vehemence. He’d made a lot of strides in his relationship with his grandmother, but she hadn’t expected him to suddenly take his mother’s side this way. Maybe everything was going to fall into place just the way she’d imagined it. Sitting out here in the warm spring air, the sun bright in the clearest blue sky she’d ever seen, it was possible once again to believe in miracles and happy endings.
“Maybe you could call her,” she suggested hesitantly. The last time she’d suggested he work for a reconciliation between his mother and grandmother, he’d bitten her head off. Today he seemed mellow enough to listen.
“It’s not my fight,” he said, staring pointedly at his grandmother.
“That doesn’t mean…”
Mrs. McDonald touched Marilou’s hand. “No, girl, he’s right. This is something I should do…if anyone does it.”
“Will you, then?” Marilou asked with surprising urgency. In her heart she knew that this was the final step if any real healing was ever to take place.
Mrs. McDonald stared at her. “My dear, why does this matter so much to you?”
She shrugged. “I know it’s none of my business.”
“That isn’t what I said. Why do you feel so strongly about it?”
“I just think families ought to stick together. You’ve been talking about family history ever since we got here. Don’t you have some responsibility to see that the tradition goes on?” she challenged.
The old woman’s gaze faltered at that. Then she sighed. “I’ll give it some thought. Now why don’t you two go take a walk together? I’m sure you’d like some time alone.”
Cal’s eyes met Marilou’s and he winked.
“How do you know we haven’t been sneaking off to be together at night?”
“Because the floorboards in that hall creak under a mouse’s step. You two have been staying put, just like I told you to.”
“That’s no way to get great-grandchildren,” Cal challenged, sending Marilou’s pulse caroming wildly.
His grandmother waved her cane at him. “There will be no illegitimate great-grandbabies in this family. Not if I have anything to say about it. You make an honest woman of this girl and I’ll build you a whole private suite.”
Marilou’s breath caught in her throat as she watched for Cal’s reaction. His expression sobered at
once, all too quickly it seemed to her. Suddenly she wanted to run, to feel the warm breeze against her cheeks, the grass against her bare feet. She wanted to get away from Cal and his insensitive teasing, and from all the things that could never be.
Cal was already standing over her, though, his hand extended. “Come on. It seems we’re not needed around here.”
Marilou was slow to get up, unwilling to be lured into Cal’s spell so easily. Stalling for time, she turned to Mrs. McDonald worriedly. “What will you do?”
“I’ll do some thinking, maybe a little remembering. I’ll be just fine. Run along and enjoy yourselves.”
They were barely out of sight before Cal slid his arms around Marilou’s waist and pulled her tight against him. His lips met hers, lightly at first, then with more demand. She tried to hold back, tried not to let his warmth flood through her, his mouth persuade her, but it was useless. She would have forever to miss being in his arms. She wouldn’t give up the spine-tingling sensations—couldn’t give them up—before she had to.
Chapter Thirteen
Keeping his defenses securely in place was getting to be increasingly difficult for Cal. As a hardheaded businessman himself, his admiration for his grandmother’s gritty determination and amazing spirit grew day by day, though he wasn’t about to tell her that. She was too damned sure of herself as it was. Admittedly, though, the thriving ranch was a testament to her intelligence and feistiness. It couldn’t have been easy for a woman in her position to take on such a vast empire back during the Depression and keep it going during decades when others had been turning their property over to oil exploration or sheep ranching.
“Once a cattleman, always a cattleman,” she said staunchly when he asked how she had withstood the pressures to change.
“Sometimes being a stubborn, willful woman has served you well,” he noted wryly.
“It has always served me well,” she corrected with a smile.
“You really must do something about those books, though. And I’d like to see you diversifying your investments. Why don’t I bring Joshua out for a few days to help you out?”
His grandmother regarded him suspiciously. “Who is this Joshua person?”
“My accountant and my friend. I’ve known him almost all my life. He’s the most trustworthy, honorable man I know. I’ll have him fly out tomorrow, in fact,” he said decisively. Once he knew his grandmother’s finances were under control, he’d feel free to go back to Florida. This was definitely the best course of action, he thought, though Marilou was staring at him, her expression horrified.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded, though he suspected he knew.
“Don’t you think you ought to speak with Joshua first, before making that kind of commitment for him?”
That was the last thing he’d been expecting. He’d anticipated another lecture on running away. “Why?”
“Cal, you’ve said it yourself. He hates isolation. This place would make him crazy. Isn’t there someone else you could hire?”
“I’m not asking him to move here, just to spend a couple of days.”
“He’ll consider it a lifetime. He got nervous the minute he set foot outside his car that day he drove over to Ocala.”
Somehow he found it irritating that Marilou had zeroed in so readily on Joshua’s idiosyncrasies and now felt compelled to jump to his defense.
“He’ll survive,” he grumbled. “In fact, the change will do him good. He’s too stuffy for his own good. He could use a little adventure in his life.”
“Garrett might make it a little more palatable for him,” his grandmother said slyly.
Cal and Marilou whirled on her. “What?” they said in unison.
“She’s a real beauty, though there’s not a sign that she’s aware of it.”
“Garrett is a woman?” Cal said incredulously.
His grandmother stared at him with masterful innocence. “Of course, she is.”
“Of course? You never said.”
“You never asked.”
“That seems to be a problem of his,” Marilou piped in cheerfully. Cal glared at her.
“Why does it bother you so much that my foreman is a woman?”
“It doesn’t bother me. It just surprises me.”
“And you don’t like surprises,” Marilou inserted. “Any more than Joshua would. You can’t drag him into this without warning him, Cal.”
“About what, Garrett?”
“Oh, stop being impossible. I suspect Joshua knows how to handle most women.”
“I repeat,” his grandmother said, “he hasn’t met Garrett.”
“Did someone mention my name?” a slender blonde asked from the doorway.
Marilou was gaping. With her long legs and t
iny waist, Garrett belonged on the cover of a magazine, something definitely more upscale than a farm journal. Her hair fell nearly to her hips, her features were fragile, but there was a lean athleticism about her that no doubt came from years of handling heavy chores. Men’s chores.
“You’re Garrett?” Cal said, knowing Marilou was watching Garrett speculatively, clearly sizing her up with her finely honed woman’s intuition. From the grin that was slowly spreading across Marilou’s face, he forgot all about jealousy and decided that Joshua’s bachelor days were seriously numbered. He noticed that she didn’t voice another objection to calling his friend.
“I’m surprised,” he said finally, grasping the hand that was held out to him.
Garrett turned a chiding gaze on his grandmother. “She loves to do that to people. My real name is Tracy Garrett. If I hadn’t gotten hooked on using my last name years ago, she wouldn’t be able to get away with it. Sorry I was away when you arrived. Mrs. Mac sent me over to Montana to take a look at some stock.”
“What did you think?” his grandmother asked, suddenly all business. “Did you spend a bundle of my money?”
“I left you pocket change,” Garrett retorted, then gave a concise but obviously knowledgeable report, including the amount she’d spent for the cattle. He listened closely, impressed not only with her acumen, but with the way his grandmother deferred to her judgment. She didn’t bat an eye at a dollar figure that had Marilou gasping and even left him a little startled. Apparently even at eighty there was nothing conservative about his grandmother’s approach to business.
Dinner turned into a lively affair. Garrett had a knack for keeping everyone off guard with her insightful comments and wry wit. There was absolutely no pretense about her, not in the way she dressed or the straightforward way she talked. And Casey, her twelve-year-old daughter, was a real hellion. She and his grandmother had a rapport that made Cal oddly envious.
My Dearest Cal Page 15
