The Maltese Terror

by Deirdre O'Dare

  “In Colorado, the weather calls the shots. Oh, things keep moving in Denver to a degree and down in Colorado Springs. Out here on the prairie, you have to learn to work with what nature gives you because she’s sure not going to cut you any slack. I’m glad you called and glad I was able to come get you. About now you’d be mighty cold, maybe getting hypothermic.”

  “Yeah, that’s how it was in western New York where I grew up, pretty rural, part reservation. We’d get the lake effect storms sweeping in off Lake Ontario there and it might dump five feet of snow in a day or two. All you could do was hunker down and wait it out. I guess that’s all I can do now, isn’t it? I’m really thankful to be somewhere safe and warm, me and Cedric. Sorry to be a bother, though, leaving you stuck with us.”

  At the mention of his name, the little white dog came charging down the hallway from the bedroom, Cheyenne close behind him. While Caleb rummaged in the refrigerator for breakfast fixings, Cedric dashed in wild circles around the room, back and forth from Nick to Caleb. Cheyenne, nose down, tried to herd him off to the snug spot behind the stove. He was having none of that.

  Setting a carton of eggs, a package of bacon, a jug of milk and an onion on the counter, Caleb paused to watch the two dogs. It was all he could do not to laugh out loud. He could see Chey was getting totally frustrated because her herding efforts were not getting the job done. Cedric didn’t stay still long enough for her to turn him.

  Caleb had to admit the old girl didn’t move as fast as she used to, but she still knew her business. Finally Cedric skidded to a stop right in front of him. The little dog sat back on his haunches and stared up, as if he’d never seen anything so big. Two shoe-button, jet-black eyes stared at him intently. Then the little guy opened his mouth in a doggy grin and let out one sharp bark. That was too much. Caleb roared. “What are you after, squirt? You want some breakfast?”

  “I never give him people food,” Nick protested, almost primly. “I’ve got his food in the smaller bag. If you feed your dog in the morning, I’ll get some for him now so he won’t feel left out. He gets this all-natural stuff my vet recommended. Malties have delicate digestion.”

  Caleb grinned. “Chey eats when I do, mostly the same stuff. Oh, she gets some kibbles at night like all the dogs do, but a scrambled egg and a couple of pieces of bacon won’t hurt a dog. No onion, though. Onion and garlic are bad for them.”

  With that, he proceeded to fix breakfast, doubling the amount he normally made. He could feel Nick’s gaze on him as he worked. It gave him an itchy, unsettled feeling. Normally he didn’t pay much attention to anyone else, just went about his business as if he was all alone in the world.

  There was something hard to ignore about this fair easterner, though. Nick’s eyes were an odd, pale shade of gray. Although his hair looked medium brown, Caleb would bet the sun brought out glints of red in it. He had nice even features, almost pretty enough to be one of those male models. Yet it wasn’t his looks that had Caleb feeling edgy, but something much more indefinable.

  Wish I knew if he was interested. The way he’s looking at me makes me wonder. I still never quite know how to ask, even after knowing what I want for almost half my life.

  He cracked the eggs into the big iron frying pan and diced up the bacon to pitch in with a little more verve than he ordinarily employed. Hell, if he had an audience he might as well play to it. And an audience he had—four beady dog eyes, plus two piercing gray ones followed his every move. A strange excitement buzzed along his nerves, tightening his balls and making his cock twitch under the zipper of his jeans. He hadn’t felt that in a long time, too long maybe, because it felt damn good.

  “What do you do for fun out here in the prairie?” Nick’s sudden question made Caleb jump. He glanced over his shoulder before he gave the eggs a final stir.

  Then he shrugged. “Not much—watch the sun come up and go down, the clouds go by, the grass grow. I don’t have time to do much really. Oh, I go into Denver once in a while and spend the night. While I can usually find some fun if I go to the right bars and clubs, I’m not big on that scene. They have a dance at the Veteran’s Hall in Lincoln two or three times a year and sometimes I hit that. Enjoy the music, even if I have two left feet.”

  Nick chuckled. “I understand that. Even though I’m in a city, I stay busy enough that a heavy social life is hard to fit in. I take in a play or concert now and then, maybe go out to a club every couple of months with some of the people from work. That doesn’t seem to be as much fun as it was when I was younger…”

  Nick’s voice trailed off in a manner that indicated regret or maybe disillusionment. Caleb looked at the other man keenly as he carried their plates to the table. There was something here for sure. He could sense it, but would there be time to explore just what it was and how it might work for them? Not likely.

  When Caleb set Nick’s plate down, the easterner gave a start of surprise. “Good grief, you expect me to eat all that? I never eat breakfast…a couple of cups of coffee and I’m on my way. Maybe grab a doughnut or a bagel at work if someone brings them into the office. If I ate like this very often I’d weigh three hundred pounds quicker than you can say phat.”

  “If you get out in this snow and wind, you’ll burn all those calories and more.” Caleb grinned at Nick’s expression. “I’ve got to get the snowmobile out and go check the pastures. Thought you might like to come along, just for something to do.”

  Nick twitched a shoulder. “Sure, why not? I don’t think I’ve got the clothes for it, though. That parka I had on last night is the only cold weather gear I brought along.”

  “I think I have one of my dad’s old coveralls around. He wasn’t quite my height so it ought to fit you well enough. Unless I find something wrong, I won’t be off the machine very much and you won’t have to get off at all.”

  Cedric, who had settled behind the stove with Cheyenne, now jumped up to dash across and stand, his forepaws patting urgently on Nick’s leg. Nick reached down and pulled Cedric onto his lap. His black nose twitched eagerly as he sniffed the nearest edge of Nick’s plate. Seeing that, Cheyenne got up, too. She ambled over to stop by Caleb’s chair. Although she sat down politely, her avid gaze followed every bite on its journey from plate to mouth.

  Caleb glanced at her. “Don’t you be begging now, Chey. I’ll put the plate down for you to finish in a minute.”

  When Nick’s attention was focused briefly on Caleb, Cedric edged forward and snatched a bit of egg from the plate. Nick gave a whoop of alarm. “Hey, that isn’t your stuff, kid. People food is not good for dogs.”

  “Bullshit,” Caleb said. “I don’t care what those citified vets say. Dogs can eat the same things we do with just a few changes. I won’t chew on ole bones or eat a rabbit fur, feet and all, and Chey won’t get any onions, garlic, grapes or chocolate.”

  This time Nick caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. “You damn little thief. Leave it alone. You never do this at home. What’s with you today?” He pushed the plate farther in on the table, out of Cedric’s reach.

  Caleb held back the chuckle. “That Maltese Terror of yours is going to grow up and be a real dog yet. He’s getting the hang of it, showing off for Cheyenne. She’s acting out a little, too. She knows better than to beg before I’m done.”

  With that, he set the plate on the floor, allowing the old Heeler to have several bites of bacon and eggs and a few crusts of toast. She licked it shiny clean. “I’ve got the best automatic dishwasher around,” Caleb boasted. “She never misses a crumb or a swipe of grease.”

  Nick shook his head. “I don’t know. I was told not to feed a dog at the table and I never let Cedric lick my dishes. It just doesn’t seem civilized.”

  “Maybe it isn’t, but what the hell?” Caleb met Nick’s gaze, almost challenging him to respond. “Neither are a lot of other things some folks do as a matter of course. Who’s to say what’s right or proper or anything else really?”

  Nick looked away
first. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “You may be right.”

  Caleb got up to clear the table. After that, he fetched the old coverall out of the mudroom off the kitchen. Although it was stiff and crusted with the residue of many long-forgotten chores, the heavy waterproof canvas would keep Nick snug and dry. In a few minutes they were both bundled up like Eskimos and ready to head outdoors.

  Chapter 4

  Nick found Caleb’s snowmobile did have room for two, but only if they didn’t mind snuggling pretty close. Sitting behind, his knees bracketed Caleb’s hips and his crotch was right against Caleb’s butt. The layers of clothing somehow did little to dispel his awareness of just how intimate their positions were.

  The wind had begun to pick up again, which made their speed seem greater than it was. Caleb steered over the drifts and hollows with practiced skill. Although the cold was sharp, Nick found it exhilarating to skim along as they did. Since he only had to hang on, he could look around. The area was picturesque in a subdued way. The rolling hills, dusted with snow like white frosting on a strange cake, faded into the distance. Here and there a stark bush or the stalk of a yucca-like plant stood up, dark against the dominant white and pale grays of the landscape. The black and red coats of Caleb’s Angus and Hereford cattle made startling splashes of color in the snow.

  Between the roar of the machine and the wail of the wind, there wasn’t much use trying to talk. Still, Nick could partially gauge Caleb’s shifting moods by the set of his shoulders and whether his movements were smooth or jerky. When they found one heifer down in the snow, near her obviously dead calf, Caleb shook his head, his strong face marked with poignant sorrow.

  He really cares for his animals, like each one is a family member. Nick found that a stunning revelation. He hadn’t expected a rancher to feel that way, maybe worry over the lost value if an animal died, not to be truly sorry.

  After a moment, Caleb edged close enough to Nick to explain. There was not much he could do for either of the animals now. The heifer should be all right if the storm broke soon. Right now there was no way to get her back to the barn. Some losses were inevitable. Range cows had to be hardy to survive. If the storm didn’t clear by mid-afternoon he’d drag a wagon load of hay out to scatter. That way he’d be sure the cattle had some nutritious feed to keep them going.

  Fortunately, there were no other cows down. The rest seemed to be finding some grass under the thinner patches of snow and would be all right for a day or two, unless the weather got much worse. They headed back to the house after about a two-hour tour of the ranch.

  On the route back, Nick held on tight because Caleb drove faster, swooping up and down over some higher hills and deeper hollows with almost boyish exuberance. That was fun, taking Nick back to some of the more enjoyable parts of his youth. He’d thought the rancher staid and stuffy, practically grim. This made him approachably human.

  When they were back inside, he looked at Caleb as they both struggled to get out of the stiff coveralls. “I’m sorry about the calf, but the rest was fun. I haven’t been snowmobiling in a long time. We used to when I was a teenager. Couple of my friends had machines, and we rode all over every winter while we were in high school. Though I know a lot of westerners don’t believe it, New York is not all a big city. We have some pretty rugged and remote country. Good deer hunting and plenty of places to camp, fish, canoe, or whatever you wanted to do.”

  Caleb finished shedding his gear first. Although the suit Nick wore clearly fit a huskier man, it made a tight fit over his parka. He twisted and tugged, making little progress. Caleb looked at him, one eyebrow arched and a twinkle in his eyes. “Need a little help?”

  Nick nodded, biting back a curse. Caleb circled him, grasped the edges of the suit and peeled it down off Nick’s shoulders. Once free of the bulk of his parka, the suit slumped around his knees in a stiff brown pile. After Nick jerked down the zipper of his parka, Caleb pulled it off, just as he had the insulated suit, tossing it to one side over a chair. Then Caleb set a hand on each of Nick’s shoulders, just resting them there.

  For a half dozen breaths, Nick stood stock still absorbing the warmth and weight of the other man’s hands, feeling a sparkling tide of awareness flash through him. There was no restraint in the touch. While he could have shrugged free at any instant, he didn’t. He didn’t want to. In fact he needed that anchoring touch as badly as the air he was sucking in with sharp, quick breaths. He wasn’t sure if Caleb planned to take things farther but he hoped…

  Caleb’s grasp loosened. “Turn around,” he said, his voice hoarse and low.

  Nick did. He felt as if he had divided into two, one that stood back and watched with puzzlement and the other that had never been more aware, more attuned to another person in his life. He looked up to meet Caleb’s fierce, dark gaze, boring into his with searching force.

  They were so close he could count every thick black lash framing those eyes, see the fine creases and weathering that revealed the rancher’s exposure to the harsh outdoors. The chiseled lips were mere inches from his. He suddenly wondered how they would taste, how they would feel. Oh how badly he wanted to find out.

  At that moment his cell phone, which he’d left on the dining table when they went out, jangled imperatively. The sound broke the spell that had held them both in a relentless clasp.

  “Shit,” Caleb said.

  “Son of a bitch,” Nick said. “I guess I’d better answer that. I left a message on Jack’s voice mail this morning. He’s probably concerned, maybe pissed.” As he crossed the room to pick up the phone, he noticed a wan ray of sunshine peeking in through the frosted window above the sink. Was the storm breaking? Coming at this particular moment, that possibility gave him no joy at all.

  * * * *

  Caleb listened to Nick’s half of the conversation, fighting the frustration and disappointment rushing through him. They’d been so close. So. Fucking. Close. Damn that phone.

  Observing, he now glimpsed a side of the other man he had not yet seen. In an instant Nick morphed into the consummate professional he clearly was—calm, collected, and in charge. While he might be speaking to a multimillionaire whose mere word could raise or ruin a man, he wasn’t cowed.

  “I’m not sure when I can get my rental vehicle out of the ditch and running, Jack. If it can be done this afternoon, I’ll be on my way, but I may not get back on the road until tomorrow. Apparently the blizzard hit harder out here on the prairie.”

  Then, after a moment of listening, “No, I’m fine. A rancher took me in for the night. He’s been a great host, believe me. Yes, I’ll give you a call once I know either way. It just quit snowing out here a few minutes ago. The sun is starting to break through the clouds now.”

  It seemed to be forever before Nick terminated the call. He turned back slowly to face Caleb. “I suppose I’d better call and see if someone can get the SUV back on the road. Do you think Triple-A would come out now, or is there someone local with a tow truck I can contact? I’d just as soon give my business to someone in the area.”

  “I can probably drag it out with my truck,” Caleb said. He hoped the reluctance he felt didn’t come through too clearly in his tone. “It’s a ton-rated Dodge with a 360 V-8 geared for maximum power instead of speed. I moved a semi with it once. Want to go try?”

  Nick hesitated. After a moment he nodded. “It looks like it may be clearing. I guess the storm has passed.” He paused, almost seemed to sigh. “If you have time, I’d appreciate it.”

  Without much more talk they went out, got into the truck, and headed down the road to where they’d left the SUV. It didn’t seem to take a tenth as long to get there as the trip to the ranch had taken last night in the blizzard. Since the right front wheel was down the farthest, Caleb suggested they try to drag it out backward. Nick didn’t disagree. He was out of his element in this.

  Caleb crawled down in the mud and melting snow to hook a chain on the bumper. They scraped away snow and ice to get the drive
r’s door opened and Nick scrambled in. After a couple of coughs, the Expedition’s engine turned over and began to fire. They gave it a few minutes to warm up. Then Caleb got back in the Dodge, shifted into reverse, and backed slowly until the chain went tight.

  Nick felt the slight jerk. He waved one hand out the window. Then Caleb gave the Dodge a little more gas, slowly building up power so as not to spin the wheels. The tire chains dug into the roadbed, the engine growled, and the Expedition began to inch backward, too. Once it began to move, the effort eased. In just a couple of minutes they had it back up on the road, sitting level again.

  After he undid the tow chain and tossed it into the bed, Caleb walked over to the driver’s side of the Expedition. “See that crossroads right down there? You should be able to turn around there without getting off the solid part of the road. I’ll wait here. You can follow me back to the ranch and get your gear. Then I’ll follow you back down to the highway.”

  In less than an hour they were back at the ranch. Both dogs met them at the door as they came in. Cedric carefully copied every move Cheyenne made. They sniffed both men’s pant legs, circled around them, and then returned to the rear of the stove.

  Nick shook his head, laughing. “I think Cedric has a crush on your old partner there.”

  “Looks that way,” Caleb agreed. He was still surprised how well the two very different dogs were getting along. Cheyenne was going to miss the little dust mop when he left. Maybe she needed an indoor buddy.

  As Caleb watched, Nick gathered his things quickly, then hesitated, two steps from the back door. Obviously, the final thing he needed to do was put Cedric in the carrier. Although the little guy watched with sharply attentive eyes, he hadn’t stirred from Cheyenne’s side behind the stove.

  “Come on, Cedric. We have to go.”

  The little dog almost shook his head.