Calder Born, Calder Bred (Calder Saga 4)

“Your father is almost the way I imagined he would be,” she admitted. “But I was surprised to find your mother so sophisticated and modern. I guess I thought she’d be one of those dowdy, meek women who bake a lot.”

“I told you she was special,” Ty reminded her.

“Sons can be very prejudiced about their mothers,” she countered, then studied him absently. “She doesn’t look old enough to have a son your age.”

“She was very young when I was born, still in her teens.” It wasn’t the time or the place to go into details about the past.

A slight frown marred Tara’s forehead. “I always feel sorry for girls who become tied down with children when they are young. They miss so much.” Her expression smoothed out as she suddenly smiled at Ty, giving him a message and softening its impact. “It’s going to be a few more years before I tie myself down with children or a husband. There’s too much out there I want to see and do first.”

“Did it ever occur to you that a husband could see and do those things with you?” There was a taut edge to his question. She was a part of all of his dreams, yet she never seemed to consider including him in hers.

“A husband? Just one man? How boring!”

8

The needle on the gasoline gauge was flirting with the empty mark when Chase drove the pickup truck to the gas pumps that stood in front of the combination grocery store and post office of Blue Moon. Another dusty pickup Chase recognized as belonging to the ranch fleet was already parked at the pumps.

As he stepped from the truck, Ty walked out of the store and paused, bending his head to light a cigarette. Chase had a second to study his son unobserved, and he liked what he saw. The dusty and sun-faded jeans, the scuff-toed boots with run-down heels and black marks where the spurs usually rode, the worn-soft chambray workshirt, and the sweat-stained cowboy hat on his head, all were the clothes of a working cowboy. Ty’s hair had grown too long in back, but Chase was overlooking that.

Ty looked up as he shook out the match. There was a split second of hesitation when he saw his father; then he moved forward with an easy, rolling stride. Something seemed different about his father’s attitude, as if for the first time in a long while they were meeting on neutral ground. They had been silently at odds ever since he’d announced his decision to attend college. But, a second ago, he thought he’d caught a glimmer of approval in his father’s eyes.

“Did you just come from the Phelps ranch?” Ty vaguely remembered that, last night, his father had mentioned something about going there to look at some young horses.

“Yeah. I didn’t have enough gas to make it to The Homestead.” He paused as Emmett Fedderson squeezed his rotund body between the pumps and the pickup to fit the gasoline nozzle into the truck’s gas tank. He lifted a hand in silent greeting to the operator of the establishment, then let his attention return to Ty. “It’s your day off, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Ty narrowed his eyes against the cigarette smoke curling back into his face. “I was thinking about heading home so I can get cleaned up and have a bite to eat. Some of the guys are coming to Sally’s tonight.”

“A man named Jake owned the place when I was your age.” His father smiled absently. “It used to be the only action for miles.”

“Still is.” Ty grinned.

“It’s a far cry from the kind of night spots you’re used to at college.” It was a testing remark.

“It’s true a man doesn’t have to think too long or too hard about where he’s going to spend his Saturday night around here,” Ty conceded with an affectionate air. Chase relaxed slightly, relieved to hear that his son wasn’t yearning for more sophisticated excitement. “If you’re not in a rush to get back, we could go over to Sally’s and I’ll buy you a beer.”

“All right. I’ll pay Emmett for the gas and meet you there.” Inwardly he was pleased, despite his casual acceptance of the invitation from his son. It had been a long time since there’d been any closeness between them. Maybe they needed to sit down over a beer and get acquainted again.

The first of the Saturday-night crowd usually started wandering in about supper time, so when Ty moved his truck and parked it in front of the cafe-bar, other pickups were already on the scene. The early-evening patrons were usually older people and couples with young children. They came early to treat themselves to a meal out and stayed to have a few drinks. That group usually left to put the kids to bed about the time the partying crowd arrived.

When Ty walked in, most of the dining tables were filled. The jukebox was going full blast while youngsters raced back and forth between it and their parents, trying to wheedle more coins to keep the records playing. Amidst the clatter of silverware and loud music, there was laughter and lots of talking. The place had a warm atmosphere, comfortable and homey.

“Hello, Ty. What’ll you have?” Sally Brogan asked the question before he’d sat down at one of the bare drink tables. She was on her way to another table, carrying two plates in one hand, a third balanced on her forearm, and a fourth in her other hand.

“Two beers.” He pulled out a chair and sat in it, smiling at the friendly informality of the place.

Two more tables were served before Sally Brogan set down two foaming glasses of beer on their table. “How’s things been?” No matter how busy it got in the cafe, nothing ever seemed to ruffle the quiet composure of the red-haired woman.

“Fine.” Ty nodded. She was a pleasant woman, trim and attractive in a quiet way. She was everybody’s sister or mother, depending on their age.

“How’s college? I forgot what you’re majoring in.” She frowned.

“Agriscience and animal husbandry, with a minor in business administration. What else would a future rancher take?” he joked dryly.

’That’s already over my head.” She laughed in response.

“Sally?” The other woman waiting tables called to her. “DeeDee wants you in the kitchen.”

He took a drink of the cold draft beer and wiped the foam from his mouth with the back of his hand. Her reaction was typical of what he encountered when the subject of college was raised. Around here, especially in the ranching community, a person was considered lucky if he had a high-school diploma, so they weren’t comfortable talking about his advanced education. He’d been chided for using big words and jokingly told to talk in plain English, but there had been an underlying thread of seriousness in the jokes. For the most part, Ty had learned to suppress his knowledge in an attempt to put others at ease.