Her mother blanched. "But you don't know anything about ranching."
"Who said it's going to be a ranch?" "You just have to look around—cows, horses, barns, pastures. Spells 'ranch' to me."
"Well, I'm looking at eight bedrooms and a sun porch"
"And a money pit."
"Not if I do a lot of the work myself."
"What do you want with an eight-bedroom house?"
"A home," Addie replied, smiling so hard it was a wonder her face didn't break apart. "My father left me a home."
* * *
"I just got an edgy feeling, that's all," John muttered, stepping out of his old, blue pickup truck. He wiped his forehead and squinted against the sun. "Like a storm's coming."
Cal looked up at the sky. It was still as blue and cloudless as it had been this morning. "Maybe you drank too much coffee. You should cut back at your age, you know."
"Thanks for the advice, Doc, but I'm tellin' you, I'm having one of them premonitions, like trouble's coming and it's right around the corner."
"Maybe the lawyer's coming back to tell us the place is sold." Cal looked at his watch. "I've been up most of the night with the calving, John. I'm going to sit down for a while."
"You think you're going to have another long night?"
"Yeah. Wish we could hire more help right now." He yawned. He was tired, dirty and just about walking in his sleep. "There won't be any more days off until the calving's done."
"Don't worry about me," John said. "I'll keep it."
Cal shook his head. "You've got enough to do with the horses. But I'll let you know if I need help tonight."
Old John seemed content with that promise, so Cal headed toward his own small house, a two-room bunkhouse that at one time had housed the summer crew. Now it held a bedroom, living and kitchen area and a bathroom. Small, but all his. After growing up in group homes, where he owned nothing but a toothbrush and a bagful of secondhand clothes, Cal figured this old building was just about perfect.
He was asleep when the storm struck. The next thing he heard, through the fog of a thick, dreamless sleep, was Old John yelling about something.
"She's here!" the old man hollered. "She's here!"
"Who?" Cal couldn't have opened his eyes if someone had offered him a one-way ticket to a beach on Maui He'd seen pictures of Hawaii, and often dreamed about it. Palm trees, he mused, and pineapples the size of—
"Get up! You got to get up right now!"
"I don't care who's here," Cal muttered. "I've been awake for twenty-five hours straight and I'm damn well going to—"
"Meet Ed's daughter," John finished for him. "She's here, and she's looking over the place, and she wants to meet the help."
Cal swore and tossed back the thin sheet.
"She's a pretty thing," the old man babbled. "Doesn't look anything like Ed, but she seems nice enough and real interested in the ranch, and she has two little boys, twins, cutest little tykes you've ever seen, look like they could give you a run for your money, all right, and—"
"John."
"Yeah?"
"Where is she?" Cal looked around for his jeans and grabbed them off the back of a wooden chair.
"In the big house, looking around. You should have seen her face when she was talking about that house, why, she couldn't believe it, I'll bet. And—"
"What about the husband?" He found a clean shirt and threw that on before he started on socks and boots. "What's he like?"
"Not here. She came with her mother."
"I'd like to meet the man I'm working for."
"Yeah, you and me both, son. But for right now it's the little lady and her mom, both of them lookers, all right, but the mother isn't real pleased with the Triple J, if you know what I mean."
Cal didn't, but he wasn't about to ask John for an explanation that would keep him talking all the way to the main house. "Where are they from?"
"Austin."
His eyebrows rose, and he slammed his Stetson on his head and headed for the door. "Guess they weren't a real close family."
"Son, you don't know the half of it," the old man muttered. But Cal didn't have time to ask him what he meant, because there in front of the house stood the yellow-haired woman who haunted his dreams and turned them into nightmares.
"Hello, there," was all he could think to say. She looked good, more maternal than he remembered. Her hair was still streaked with gold, but it curled around her face now. He liked her better without all that makeup, too, but he missed the low-cut top. She had a figure that could make men weep, but today she wasn't looking for someone to dance with or buy her a drink. Either this was his Valentine's Day woman or her twin sister. Behind her came an older woman hauling two little boys.
"Hello." She stepped closer and stuck out her hand. "I'm Adelaide Larson." She cleared her throat. "Ed Johanson's daughter."
He took the small hand in his and remembered how those fingers felt upon his skin. "I'm Cal McDonald. Nice to finally meet you."
She withdrew her hand as quickly as was polite, but he saw the relief in those sky-blue eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, and she turned away to introduce her mother, a sharp-eyed fifty-something version of Adelaide Larson. A woman who didn't miss much, he suspected.
"Mrs. Johanson," he said, noting that she didn't let go of the twins' hands. He'd bet those little boys were hell on wheels. He tipped his hat. "It's nice to meet you."
"Mr. McDonald."
"Call me Cal."
Adelaide Larson introduced her sons, who grinned up at him. One of them asked if he knew where the horses lived, and the other stared, wide-eyed, at John.
"I can show you the horses," Cal said. He looked up at the woman. "Your father bought a nice herd of mares about five minutes before he died."
"Were you there?"
"Neither one of us was," he told her. "It happened real fast."
"Oh."
At least she looked sad about it, he thought. John motioned to the twins. "Come here, you rascals. I'll take you to the horses, but only if you hold my hands."
"We're not babies," one of them said.
"Ian," his mother warned. "Watch your manners."
"You don't have to hold my hand," the old horseman said. "Just my thumbs." He showed them his huge, gnarled hands, out of which stuck two massive thumbs. Awed, the little boys did as they were told. Even the grandmother looked impressed, though she moved closer in case the old man slipped up and let one of those little guys loose.
"Mrs. Larson," Cal said, falling into step with the little blonde. She was married, he realized, noting the wedding band on her left hand that hadn't been there when they'd met nearly two months ago. "What are you and your husband planning to do with the ranch?"
"What?" She'd grown pale, and she looked at him as if he'd said something in a foreign language.
"The ranch," he repeated. "Will you keep it, sell it, run it yourselves?" He didn't make love to other men's wives. And he didn't think much of women who hid their wedding rings and went to bars with their girlfriends.
"I'm not sure." She walked faster, obviously anxious to keep up with her children. And avoid any private conversation with the man she'd slept with. Cal hid his disappointment over that wedding ring. Here he'd hoped that he'd meet her again someday—he'd gone to Billy's to look for her every Saturday night for four weeks after Valentine's Day. He'd spent way too many hours wondering who she was and what he'd say if he ever saw her again.
He hadn't forgotten that lonely look in her eyes. It was still there, meaning her husband wasn't good enough for her. No woman that pretty should look so painfully sad. But he'd forgotten for a moment that she'd just lost her father. Maybe that's where the sadness came in. Maybe her husband brought her flowers and rubbed her back and told her she was beautiful.
He'd like to meet the sorry son of a bitch.
* * *
Luck had played a trick on her once again. Addie kept her eyes on her kids, attached to the old cowboy and head
ing toward a gray barn and a large corral several hundred yards away. The boys tried to step in mud puddles, but John, who wasn't interested in using last names, managed to avoid the mud. He seemed like he knew his way around children.
Her mother kept an eye on all three of them, though she walked slower and looked around the place as if she couldn't believe it was real. And Addie, chin up and shoulders back, carried on as if she and the tall ranch hand had never met each other before this morning, though she could feel him watching her.
She was, literally, a walking disaster. She had gotten married to a man she loved, had healthy twin sons and then—whammo—her husband died. She goes out for the first time in three years, ends up making love to a handsome cowboy and what happens? She gets pregnant, or at least she was about seventy-five percent sure she was. Inherits a ranch. Discovers the man she had a one-night stand with and hoped never to see again works on the property.
It wasn't fair. Wild Kate had affairs all the time and never looked back, never crossed that invisible line into disaster, never so much as had to buy a pregnancy test kit and watch the stick turn color.
Cal McDonald looked as if he hadn't slept in days, and hadn't shaved, either. He had dark circles under his eyes and that scruffy appearance that sold underwear in magazine ads, and yet he still looked good. And there was still that unsettling sizzle between them. Or maybe that was guilt, she wondered. But what was the odd, comforting feeling she recognized once again? And why would she have the same reaction, without having had a rum and Coke since February fourteenth?
"Mrs. Larson," he said again, as if he needed to remind her that she was married. He thought she had cheated on her husband, of course.
"Call me Adelaide. Or Addie."
"Mrs. Larson," he repeated, walking next to her, just a little too close. "I'm really sorry about your father."
"Thank you."
"I didn't know he had any family."
"In other words, where on earth was his daughter all this time?" She stopped, and he did, too. They stood there looking at each other for a long moment.
"No, ma'am," he drawled. "Your family relations are none of my business."
"I haven't seen my father since I was two," Addie explained, unwilling to let this man think she was a bad daughter, as well as an unfaithful wife. "He walked out on my mother and me and we never heard from him again, not until a lawyer tracked us down a few days ago."
"I'm sorry." She almost believed him. They started walking again. She heard the boys chattering to the old man and knew they were soaking up a man's attention.
"How long have you worked here?"
"A little more than twenty years."
"Are you the boss?"
"I run the cattle operation. John pretty much works with the horses. Your father was the boss."
"Is there anyone else here?" She stopped before reaching the corral, where the boys gazed at a beautiful, chestnut horse that had approached the fence.
"We hire some extra hands in the summer. But John and I are the only ones who live here permanently. Your father wasn't much for spending money on the help."
"I gathered that. He didn't spend money, period. I take it you've been inside the house?"
"Just in the kitchen. And only once in the rest of the place. Ed kept to himself, and conversations about the operation were confined to the kitchen in the big house, or John's place." He hesitated, and Addie waited. "You said you didn't know what you were going to do with this place, but whatever it is, keep in mind that John's close to eighty. I'm not sure where he'd go if he had to leave."
"No one is going to be forced to leave," Addie said, horrified to think that he'd assume she'd toss an old man out of his home. "Unless he wants to."
Cal frowned and looked away, past the horse barn with the peeling white paint, past the corrals filled with beautiful horses, before turning back to look down at her. "I don't sleep with other men's wives."
"Good for you." She gave him what she hoped was an innocent smile. He'd learn the truth soon enough, but she didn't feel like discussing her personal history with a man who'd seen her naked in a cheap motel.
* * *
Chapter 4
«^»
Cal sat on his bed and pulled off his boots for the second time in one afternoon. He was going to quit the Triple J. He'd give his two weeks' notice, pack up his truck and leave, just like that. He wasn't about to work for a man whose wife he'd slept with. And he wasn't about to forget that night in the motel, either, even if he hadn't known she was married at the time.
And he wasn't about to stop wanting Addie Larson. Which was the biggest problem of all. He stood, stripped off his clothes and headed for a hot shower and a few hours' sleep before another night spent in the calving shed began.
Damn. She was prettier than he'd remembered. Softer. Sweeter. He wouldn't have pictured her a mother, but today he saw that she was a good one. She watched those two kids to make sure they didn't get into anything that could hurt them, and she made them mind their manners, too. He'd heard more than one "Yes, please," and "No, thank you."
Neither one had mentioned their father, though. Cal had listened to their chatter all the way from the horse barn to the calving pens and back to the main house. They'd stayed two hours and it felt like the Larsons had been there for two days. No one on the Triple J was used to company. Ed, hermit that he was, hadn't encouraged visitors. John had no family that he ever spoke of, though he'd mentioned being married once. And there sure were no McDonalds coming to say hello and staying for coffee.
Once Cal was clean he opened a beer and, wearing boxers and a T-shirt, stretched out on his bed, his head supported by three pillows.
"Hey, Calvin!" John was the only person who used his full name.
"Yeah?"
"You asleep yet?"
"Take a wild guess!" he hollered, and then he heard the door open and the old man shuffle inside. John stopped when he saw Cal spread out on his cot.
"What's the matter with you?"
"Nothing. Why?"
"You don't seem real happy."
"Should I be?"
"Well, hell, yes. We got ourselves a real pretty boss and she doesn't seem anxious to change anything. I'm happy. I'm gonna celebrate and make up a batch of enchiladas. You want to join me?"
"Now?"
"Hell, no, not now. Suppertime. At six." He looked at his watch, a timepiece so scratched and worn it was a miracle John could see the time. "Four hours from now."
"Sounds good." Cal yawned, then took another swallow of beer. "Help yourself," he told the man. "Nice and cold."
"No, thanks. I just came over to tell you that Miss Addie called on her cell phone and said she'd be moving into the house in a couple of weeks. Asked me some questions about the house and the plumbing and all that."
"And you knew the answers?" He got out of bed and followed John back into the kitchen. So it was "Miss Addie" now, and not "Mrs. Larson."
"Nah. But I told her just to call me anytime and I'd do what she wanted."
"What about the husband?" He pretended to be casual, going so far as to open the refrigerator and offer the old man a Mountain Dew, which was John's favorite drink. "What did you hear about him? Divorced?"
"She was wearing her wedding ring, Cal," he said, taking the can. "Thanks. Her mom told me that that poor girl's husband died a few years ago, when those kids were little."
"Died?"
"Yeah. In a car accident. I'm surprised Ed didn't say anything about that." John pulled up a chair and sat down at the table that was barely big enough for two people.
"How would he know?"
John shrugged. "I got a feeling he kept track."
"Imagine that." Cal leaned against the counter and wondered why he felt so damn pleased with life all of a sudden. He should be afraid. Very afraid. Adelaide Larson wasn't married after all. She was a widow. She was available. And she was coming to live on the Triple J.
He knew now that this surely
meant trouble. Widows with children wanted husbands. And he couldn't be called husband material, not by any stretch of the imagination. If Adelaide Larson didn't stay on her part of the Triple J, Cal knew he'd have to pack up and get out.
* * *
Paula was almost afraid to ask, but since she already suspected the answer, she went ahead. There were still thirty minutes left to drive before arriving home, after all, and Addie had been on the cell phone when Paula returned to the car with the promised ice cream. Now the boys were asleep in their car seats and the car was blessedly quiet. "You're going to live there, aren't you?"
"Of course." Addie smiled, something she had done a lot today. It had to do with the house, an architectural accomplishment back in the 1890s, but an enormous drain of time and money today. Fortunately, her daughter had both. Or would, as soon as some of the property was sold. And she was certain Addie would waste no time taking care of that problem. Addie was good at problems. How else could she have taken care of things so well after Jack died? But even Addie might be biting off more than she could chew with that giant of a house.
"You know, it needs a lot of work," she felt it necessary to point out.
Addie laughed, another miracle. "Yes. That's the best part. I now have the time and the money and the house. What could be better?"
"And the ranch?"
"Will go on being a ranch."
"With John and Cal working for you, I assume, since you don't know anything about cows," Paula added, but Addie didn't respond for long moments.
"I guess," was the only thing she said, which was surprising. Paula thought her daughter had gotten along well with both men, and seemed pleased with the condition of the animals and the care of the buildings.
"What do you mean, you guess?"
"Meaning I don't know. Mr. McDonald might not want to stay."
"How formal you've become. He's a very good-looking man," Paula pointed out.
"I suppose," Addie said. "If you like that type."
"That type?" Paula chuckled. "You mean big, handsome and polite? Are you blind?" And it was about time Addie started noticing such things; the girl couldn't raise those boys alone. They needed a father, and Addie needed a man. And something told her that her daughter was well aware of Cal McDonald's sex appeal.
MADE IN TEXAS Page 4
