Calder Born, Calder Bred (Calder Saga 4)

Chase stood on the balcony of the luxurious condominium overlooking the Gulf. The tropical breeze blowing off the water was warm and humid.

“I admit it,” he acknowledged as he raised the iced drink.

“I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you and Maggie are here.” E.J. stood beside him to admire the view. “I finally have the opportunity to return the hospitality you so graciously extended to me on numerous occasions.”

“Maggie and Cathleen were both suffering from a bad case of cabin fever. So we decided to fly down for a few days and see Ty.” On the beach below, he could see Cathleen busily darting all over the sand, picking up seashells and running to show them to Ty and add them to a small bucket. The third person with his son and daughter was a stunningly beautiful girl in a skimpy bikini, almost covered by a thin lace jacket. “You have a beautiful daughter, E.J.”

“I think your son has fallen in love with her.” He studied Calder over the rim of his glass to see his reaction. “So far, she’s led him on a merry chase.”

“Most women do.” It was a somewhat nasty answer, but Chase couldn’t explain to himself why he felt so negative.

“I can’t say that I’d have any objections if there was a matrimonial merger of our two families in the future,” Dyson remarked.

“Any objections would be premature. I don’t believe either one of them is old enough to know what they want,” he stated, throwing another glance at the young couple on the beach. “It isn’t the right time for Ty to be getting serious about any girl.”

“I quite agree,” the Texan drawled. “Both of them have college to finish. And I want Tara Lee to spend a year abroad touring Europe, so that youthful thirst for adventure will be satisfied before she settles down. Like you, I don’t want them rushing into anything. Unhappy marriages are hell, as you well know.”

“That’s right.” The offhand response belied Chase’s alertness as he tried to discern whether Dyson’s comment had been a general remark or an observation of his strained relationship with Maggie.

In that first glow of reborn love, they had both been guilty of believing that love alone would smooth out all their differences and eliminate the rough patches every marriage encounters. Maturity and experience had changed each of them, yet it wasn’t easy to let go of past images they’d had of each other. Sometimes it was difficult for him to relate to the sophisticated and highly educated woman Maggie had become. He was used to making decisions without consulting anyone, and she expected to be part of them. Adjusting to each other and adapting the old ways to their present needs required constant effort.

They had moments when things were right between them, but those times were becoming less and less frequent. As long as Ty wasn’t mentioned, they could pretend they didn’t have any problems, but it was impossible for them not to talk about their own son.

There was a certain bitter irony in the fact that Ty had been responsible for reuniting him with Maggie, and now he was responsible for dividing them. Chase kept clinging to the hope that when Ty finished college and came home for good, his own conflict with Maggie would die a natural death.

Once he’d thought he could endure a marriage without any love or understanding from his wife. Perhaps without both, he could have. Although he knew Maggie continued to love him, he had to go to Sally for the understanding he needed. So far, he hadn’t crossed that fine line of sexual faithfulness he observed.

“I’ve had the opportunity to become acquainted with your son since he has been attending college here in Texas,” Dyson remarked. “As you know, he’s occasionally spent weekends at my home in Fort Worth as well as here on Padre Island. He’s an intelligent and sensible young man. I’ve become fond of him, even though I know he only comes to see Tara Lee.”

“I’ve noticed Ty has a lot of respect for you, too.” It was a diplomatic answer to conceal his resentment of the admiration Ty had shown toward the freewheeling entrepreneur. Ty seemed to put a lot of stock in Dyson’s opinions. Chase had no complaints about his dealings with the man, but neither did he want his son using the man as a role model. That was the problem with college. It held up the wrong examples for emulation.

Chase didn’t wish to continue this discussion. “I’ve been hearing a lot of talk about the new oil and gas discoveries being made in Wyoming. It looks like you’ll have better luck there than you did in my country.”

“The wells at Broken Butte will show a respectable return, a little below average but still respectable. But, yes, the rewards appear to be much greater in the Wyoming basin.” Dyson nodded. “There’s nothing left to find on your land except coal. I understand eastern Montana is underlaid with coal deposits. If the petroleum reserves ever gave out, you’d wind up a rich man, Calder.”

“Maybe, but there wouldn’t be a ranch left worth having.” The idea was unthinkable. Chase bolted down a swallow of whiskey and soda to rid himself of the bad taste. “You only have to look at some of the coal states in the East to see how strip mines have desecrated the land.”

“That’s been true in the past,” Dyson conceded, choosing his words carefully. “But with modern reclamation methods, the land can be turned back to original use as cattle graze. There wouldn’t be any lasting damage.”

“Is that right?” Chase eyed the man with a cool, challenging lift of an eyebrow. “When you cut somebody open and take out half his guts, then sew him back up, he’s never the same again, and the scar never goes away. The homesteaders raped the land almost fifty years ago and it’s still little more than a desert with scrub grass and weeds. That isn’t my idea of graze.”

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“Chase Calder, how can you look at all that blue Gulf water and talk about grazing cattle?” Maggie chided him as she joined the two men on the balcony in time to catch the last of his remarks. “This is supposed to be a vacation, remember?”

“Sorry.” The corners of his mouth twitched with a smile as she came to stand beside him. Once he would have automatically put his arm around her, but it had ceased being a natural gesture.

“Let me fix you a drink, Maggie,” Dyson offered.

“I’ll just have some tonic water with a twist,” she said and leaned on the balcony railing to look down at the beach. “Cathleen is enjoying herself, isn’t she?”

A broken sand dollar was added to the collection of shells in the beach pail that sat in the sand by TV’s feet. The two adults had tired of walking the beach and spread their towels on the sand to watch the five-year-old.

“Go find some more,” Ty urged his little sister. Emerald-green ribbons were tied in bows to adorn her jet-black pigtails and match the bathing suit she wore. Cathleen was off with a dash, scampering back to the tideline with her pigtails bouncing.

“Your sister is a gorgeous thing, Ty,” Tara declared, silently marveling that a child could look so beautiful. “She takes after your mother so much.”

“What do you think of my parents?” His shoulders were angled toward her, bared to the sunlight that played over the ridged muscles.