Callaghan's Bride

Chapter Two

R ey went out to the corral where the culls—the nonproducing second-year heifers and cows—were being held, along with the young steers fattened and ready for market. Both groups were ready to be loaded into trucks and taken away to their various buyers. A few more steers than usual had been sold because drought had limited the size of the summer corn and hay crop. Buying feed for the winter was not cost-productive. Not even an operation the size of the Harts’s could afford deadweight in these hard economic times.

Cag was staring at the milling cattle absently, his heavy brows drawn down in thought, his whole posture stiff and unapproachable.

Rey came up beside him, half a head shorter, lither and more rawboned than the bigger man.

“Well, she’s packing,” he said bluntly.

Cag’s eyes glanced off his brother’s and went back to the corral. His jaw clenched. “I hate birthdays! I know she was told.”

“Sure she was, but she didn’t realize that breaking the rule was going to be life-threatening.”

“Hell!” Cag exploded, turning with black-eyed fury. “I never raised a hand to her! I wouldn’t, no matter how mad I got.”

“Would you need to?” his brother asked solemnly. “Damn it, Cag, she was shaking like a leaf. She’s just a kid, and it’s been a rough few months for her. She hasn’t even got over losing her dad yet.”

“Lay it on,” Cag said under his breath, moving restlessly.

“Where’s she going to go?” he persisted. “She hasn’t seen her mother since she was sixteen years old. She has no family, no friends. Even cooking jobs aren’t that thick on the ground this time of year, not in Jacobsville.”

Cag took off his hat and wiped his forehead on his sleeve before he replaced it. He’d been helping run the steers down the chute into the loading corral and he was sweating, despite the cold. He didn’t say a word.

Leo came up with a rope in his hand, watching his brothers curiously.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Rey muttered, thoroughly disgusted. “Tess made him a birthday cake and he destroyed it. She’s packing.”

Leo let out a rough sigh and turned his eyes toward the house. “I can’t say I blame her. I got her into trouble at the Christmas party by spiking the holiday punch, and now this. I guess she thinks we’re all lunatics and she’s better off without us.”

“No doubt.” Rey shrugged. “Well, let’s get the cattle loaded.”

“You aren’t going to try to stop her?” Leo asked.

“What would be the point?” Rey asked solemnly. His face hardened. “If you’d seen her, you wouldn’t want to stop her.” He glared at Cag. “Nice work, pal. I hope she can pack with her hands shaking that badly!”

Rey stormed off toward the truck. Leo gave his older brother a speaking glance and followed.

Cag, feeling two inches high and sick with himself, turned reluctantly and went back toward the house.

Tess had her suitcases neatly loaded. She closed the big one, making one last sweep around the bedroom that had been hers for the past few weeks. It was a wrench to leave, but she couldn’t handle scenes like that. She’d settle for harder work in more peaceful surroundings. At least, Cag wouldn’t be around to make her life hell.

She picked up her father’s world champion gold belt buckle and smoothed her fingers over it. She took it everywhere with her, like a lucky talisman to ward off evil. It hadn’t worked today, but it usually did. She put it gently into the small suitcase and carefully closed the lid, snapping the latches shut.

A sound behind her caught her attention and she turned around, going white in the face when she saw who had opened the door.

She moved around the bed and behind the wing chair that stood near the window, her eyes wide and unblinking.

He was bareheaded. He didn’t speak. His black eyes slid over her pale features and he took a long, deep breath.

“You don’t have anywhere to go,” he began.

It wasn’t the best of opening gambits. Her chin went up. “I’ll sleep at a Salvation Army shelter,” she said coldly. “Dad and I spent a lot of nights there when we were on the road and he didn’t win any events.”

He scowled. “What?”

She hated having admitted that, to him of all people. Her face closed up. “Will you let one of the hands drive me to town? I can catch a bus up to Victoria.”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his close-fitting jeans, straining the fabric against his powerful thighs. He stared at her broodingly.

“Never mind,” she said heavily. “I’ll walk or hitch a ride.”

She picked up her old coat, the threadbare tweed one she’d had for years, and slipped it on.

“Where’s your new coat?” he asked shortly.

“In the hall closet. Don’t worry, I’m not taking anything that doesn’t belong to me.”

She said it so matter-of-factly that he was wounded right through. “We gave it to you,” he said.

Her eyes met his squarely. “I don’t want it, or a job, or anything else you gave me out of pity.”

He was shocked. He’d never realized she thought of it like that. “You needed a job and we needed a cook,” he said flatly. “It wasn’t pity.”

She shrugged and seemed to slouch. “All right, have it any way you like. It doesn’t matter.”

She slipped her shoulder bag over her arm and picked up her worn suitcases, one big one and an overnight bag, part of a matched set of vinyl luggage that she and her father had won in a raffle.

But when she reached the door, Cag didn’t move out of the way. She couldn’t get around him, either. She stopped an arm’s length away and stared at him.

He was trying to think of a way to keep her without sacrificing his pride. Rey was right; she was just a kid and he’d been unreasonable. He shocked himself lately. He was a sucker for helpless things, for little things, but he’d been brutal to this child and he didn’t know why.

“Can I get by, please?” she asked through stiff lips.

He scowled. A muscle jumped beside his mouth. He moved closer, smiling coldly with self-contempt when she backed up. He pushed the door shut.

She backed up again, her eyes widening at the unexpected action, but he didn’t come any closer.

“When I was six,” he said with cold black eyes, “I wanted a birthday cake like the other kids had. A cake and a party. Simon had gone to town with Dad and Corrigan. It was before Rey was born. Leo was asleep and my mother and I were in the kitchen alone. She made some pert remark about spoiled brats thinking they deserved treats when they were nothing but nuisances. She had a cake on the counter, one that a neighbor had sent home with Dad. She smashed the cake into my face,” he recalled, his eyes darker than ever, “and started hitting me. I don’t think she would have stopped, except that Leo woke up and started squalling. She sent me to my room and locked me in. I don’t know what she told my father, but I got a hell of a spanking from him.” He searched her shocked eyes. “I never asked for another cake.”

She put the suitcases down slowly and shocked him by walking right up to him and touching him lightly on the chest with a shy, nervous little hand. It didn’t occur to him that he’d never confessed that particular incident to anyone, not even his brothers. She seemed to know it, just the same.

“My father couldn’t cook. He opened cans,” she said quietly. “I learned to cook when I was eleven, in self-defense. My mother wouldn’t have baked me a cake, either, even if she’d stayed with us. She didn’t want me, but Dad did, and he put her into a position where she had to marry him. She never forgave either of us for it. She left before I started school.”

“Where is she now?”

She didn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t care.”

His chest rose and fell roughly. She made him uncomfortable. He moved back, so that her disturbing hand fell away from his chest.

She didn’t question why he didn’t like her to touch him. It had been an impulse and now she knew not to do it again. She lifted her face and searched his dark eyes. “I know you don’t like me,” she said. “It’s better if I get a job somewhere else. I’m almost twenty-two. I can take care of myself.”

His eyes averted to the window. “Wait until spring,” he said stiffly. “You’ll have an easier time finding work then.”

She hesitated. She didn’t really want to go, but she couldn’t stay here with such unbridled resentment as he felt for her.

He glanced down at her with something odd glittering in his black eyes. “My brothers will drown me if I let you walk out that door,” he said curtly. “Neither of them is speaking to me.”

They both knew that he didn’t care in the least what his brothers thought of him. It was a peace initiative.

She moved restlessly. “Dorie’s had the baby. She can make biscuits again.”

“She won’t,” he said curtly. “She’s too busy worshiping the baby.”

Her gaze dropped to the floor. “It’s a sweet baby.”

A wave of heat ran through his body. He turned and started back toward the door. “Do what you please,” he said.

She still hesitated.

He opened the door and turned before he went through it, looking dark as thunder and almost as intimidating. “Too afraid of me to stay?” he drawled, hitting her right in her pride with deadly accuracy.

She drew herself up with smoldering fury. “I am not afraid of you!”

His eyebrows arched. “Sure you are. That’s why you’re running away like a scared kid.”

“I wasn’t running! I’m not a scared kid, either!”

That was more like it. He could manage if she fought back. He couldn’t live with the image of her white and shaking and backing away from him. It had hurt like the very devil.

He pulled his Stetson low over his eyes. “Suit yourself. But if you stay, you’d damned sure better not lose the apple butter again,” he said with biting sarcasm.

“Next time, you’ll get it right between the eyes,” she muttered to herself.

“I heard that.”

She glared at him. “And if you ever, ever, throw another cake at me…!”

“I didn’t throw it at you,” he said pointedly. “I threw it at the wall.”

Her face was growing redder by the second. “I spent two hours making the damned thing!”

“Lost apple butter, cursed cake, damned women…” He was still muttering as he stomped off down the hall with the faint, musical jingle of spurs following him.

Tess stood unsteadily by the bed for several seconds before she snapped out of her trance and put her suitcases back on the bed to unpack them. She needed her head read for agreeing to stay, but she didn’t really have anywhere else to go. And what he’d told her reached that part of her that was unbearably touched by small, wounded things.

She could see a little Cag with his face covered in cake, being brutally hit by an uncaring woman, trying not to cry. Amazingly it excused every harsh word, every violent action. She wondered how many other childhood scars were hiding behind that hard, expressionless face.

Cag was coldly formal with her after that, as if he regretted having shared one of his deeper secrets with her. But there weren’t any more violent outbursts. He kept out of her way and she kept out of his. The winter months passed into a routine sameness. Without the rush and excitement of the holidays, Tess found herself with plenty of time on her hands when she was finished with her chores. The brothers worked all hours, even when they weren’t bothered with birthing cattle and roundup, as they were in the warmer months of spring.

But there were fences to mend, outbuildings to repair, upkeep on the machinery that was used to process feed. There were sick animals to treat and corrals to build and vehicles to overhaul. It never seemed to end. And in between all that, there were conferences and conventions and business trips.

It was rare, Tess found, to have all three bachelor brothers at the table at the same time. More often than not, she set places only for Rey and Leo, because Cag spent more and more time away. They assured her that she wasn’t to blame, that it was just pressing business, but she wondered just the same. She knew that Cag only tolerated her for the sake of her domestic skills, that he hated the very sight of her. But the other brothers were so kind that it almost made up for Cag. And the ever-present Mrs. Lewis, doing the rough chores, was a fountain of information about the history of the Hart ranch and the surrounding area. Tess, a history buff, learned a lot about the wild old days and stored the information away almost greedily. The lazy, pleasant days indoors seemed to drag and she was grateful for any interesting tidbits that Mrs. Lewis sent her way.

Then spring arrived and the ranch became a madhouse. Tess had to learn to answer the extension phone in the living room while the two secretaries in the separate office complex started processing calving information into the brothers’ huge mainframe computer. The sheer volume of it was shocking to Tess, who’d spent her whole life on ranches.

The only modern idea, besides the computers, that the brothers had adapted to their operation was the implantation of computer chips under the skin of the individual cattle. This was not only to identify them with a handheld computer, but also to tag them in case of rustling—a sad practice that had continued unabashed into the computer age.

On the Hart ranch, there were no hormone implants, no artificial insemination, no unnecessary antibiotics or pesticides. The brothers didn’t even use pesticides on their crops, having found ways to encourage the development of superior strains of forage and the survival of good insects that kept away the bad ones. It was all very ecological and fascinating, and it was even profitable. One of the local ranchers, J. D. Langley, worked hand in glove with them on these renegade methods. They shared ideas and investment strategies and went together as a solid front to cattlemen’s meetings. Tess found J. D. “Donavan” Langley intimidating, but his wife and nephew had softened him, or so people said. She shuddered to think how he’d been before he mellowed.

The volume of business the brothers did was overwhelming. The telephone rang constantly. So did the fax machine. Tess was press-ganged into learning how to operate that, and the computer, so that she could help send and receive urgent e-mail messages to various beef producers and feedlots and buyers.

“But I’m not trained!” she wailed to Leo and Rey.

They only grinned. “There, there, you’re doing a fine job,” Leo told her encouragingly.

“But I won’t have time to cook proper meals,” she continued.

“As long as we have enough biscuits and strawberry preserves and apple butter, that’s no problem at all,” Rey assured her. “And if things get too hectic, we’ll order out.”

They did, frequently, in the coming weeks. One night two pizza delivery trucks drove up and unloaded enough pizzas for the entire secretarial and sales staff and the cowboys, not to mention the brothers. They worked long hours and they were demanding bosses, but they never forgot the loyalty and sacrifice of the people who worked for them. They paid good wages, too.

“Why don’t you ever spend any money on yourself?” Leo asked Tess one night when, bleary-eyed from the computer, she was ready to go to bed.

“What?”

“You’re wearing the same clothes you had last year,” he said pointedly. “Don’t you want some new jeans, at least, and some new tops?”

“I hadn’t thought about it,” she confessed. “I’ve just been putting my wages into the bank and forgetting about them. I suppose I should go shopping.”

“Yes, you should.” He leaned down toward her. “The very minute we get caught up!”

She groaned. “We’ll never get caught up! I heard old Fred saying that he’d had to learn how to use a handheld computer so he could scan the cattle in the low pasture, and he was almost in tears.”

“We hired more help,” he stated.

“Yes, but there was more work after that! It’s never going to end,” she wailed. “If those stupid cows don’t stop having calves…!”

“Bite your tongue, woman, that’s profit you’re scoffing at!”

“I know, but—”

“We’re all tired,” he assured her. “And any day now, it’s going to slack off. We’re doing compilation figures for five ranches, you know,” he added. “It isn’t just this one. We have to record each new calf along with its history, we have to revise lists for cattle that have died or been culled, cattle that we traded, new cattle that we’ve bought. Besides that, we have to have birth weights, weight gain ratios, average daily weight gain and feeding data. All that information has to be kept current or it’s no use to us.”

“I know. But we’ll all get sick of pizzas and I’ll forget how to make biscuits!”

“God forbid,” he said, taking off his hat and holding it to his heart.

She was too tired to laugh, but she did smile. She worked her way down the long hall toward her room over the garage, feeling as drained as she looked.

She met Cag coming from the general direction of the garage, dressed in a neat gray suit with a subdued burgundy tie and a cream-colored Stetson. He was just back from a trustee meeting in Dallas, and he looked expensive and sophisticated and unapproachable.

She nodded in a cool greeting, and averted her eyes as she passed him.

He stepped in front of her, blocking her path. One big, lean hand tilted her chin up. He looked at her without smiling, his dark eyes glittering with disapproval.

“What have they been doing to you?” he asked curtly.

The comment shocked her, but she didn’t read anything into it. Cag would never be concerned about her and she knew it. “We’re all putting herd records into the computer, even old Fred,” she said wearily. “We’re tired.”