Calder Born, Calder Bred (Calder Saga 4)

“Yes.” She paused.

A long, searching moment went by, and the intensity of it eddied around her. Finally he shook his head. “Nothing,” Ty said and let her walk away. He wanted to keep her by him, but his father was right: it wasn’t fair.

As Jessy walked away from the corner, Ar

ch Goodman approached as if cued by her departure. No reference was made to Ty’s slight preoccupation. The weight of Jessy’s words were on him. Wait and see. But he was damned if he knew what all of them would eventually see.

The radio sat atop the refrigerator in the kitchen, its volume turned high to cover the silence in the house. Tara hummed the melody while she smoothly rounded the pâté in its serving dish. It was rare when she had the chance to plan the entire evening menu herself. It was hardly a challenge to cook for two, but she consoled herself with a silent promise that the time would come when she would be entertaining important guests at her table, people of position and influence in the furtherance of Ty’s career beyond this ranch.

As she turned to carry the pâté to the refrigerator, she was startled by the sight of a man standing in the kitchen. Tara was shaken by the feeling he had been there for some time, watching her. A thready fear ran through her system even as she recognized the lean, black-eyed man with metal-gray hair. The Homestead sat on a knoll, too far from the other buildings for anyone to hear her cries, especially with the radio so loud. Tara reached up quickly to turn down the volume.

“How long have you been here? What do you want?” she demanded, masking her apprehension with sharpness. O’Rourke had always seemed such a silent and strange man to her. She had never regarded him as threatening, but she’d never been alone with him before. He had appeared so suddenly, so silently, that she felt an eerie chill.

“Where’s Maggie?”

A breath of relief trembled from her as she realized he was looking for his sister. “She went to Helena with Chase. I don’t expect them back until Friday.”

He took a step toward her, his black gaze boring intently on her. There was something almost menacing about his expression. “Did they go by plane?”

“Yes.” Tara drew back slightly, wary and trying not to show her alarm.

With a sudden turn of his head, he looked up as if he could see through the ceilings and roof of The Homestead to the sky. Something strained in him, like an animal tensed and waiting.

“You’d better go,” Tara ordered. No man had ever seemed beyond the reach of her ability to control him. But she was nothing to O’Rourke. She made no impression on him at all, which was equally unnerving.

“Where’s Cat? Is she in school?”

“Yes. Ty will be home soon, though,” she said quickly, grabbing at his name as some sort of protection. She still wasn’t sure from what. “Why don’t you wait for him in the living room?”

“No.” The way he looked at her made her blood run cold. It was as if she were being condemned for something.

She couldn’t stand it and swung away, her breath running shallow. “I’m sorry I haven’t time to visit with you,” she said with forced lightness, “but I’m right in the middle of preparing tonight’s dinner and I—” A sudden draft of cold air rushed over her. Tara pivoted in time to see O’Rourke slipping outside through the back door. The fierce grip she’d had on her composure snapped. “Don’t you ever come into this house again without knocking!” she stormed. The door clicked shut on her frightened outburst, and Tara rushed over to lock it, not caring that her words and action went against Triple C custom.

The locked doors required an explanation when Ty had to knock to be let into his own home. Tara had managed to channel much of her fear into a kind of anger as she related the incident that afternoon with O’Rourke.

“I can’t stand him,” she asserted forcefully. “And I won’t have him walking in and out as he pleases when I’m here alone.”

“I’ll speak to him,” Ty promised to calm her down. “But he meant no harm. He just came to visit my mother.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want him around.” She rubbed her arms in agitation, remembering the eerie chill she’d felt.

She seemed vulnerable, in need of his protection. Ty came up behind her and put his arms around her. She turned into them, her face tipped to him. He felt again that stunned reaction to so much refined beauty and the clinging way she looked at him. The pull of her softly reddened lips brought his mouth down.

The next morning Ty climbed the steps, balancing a small serving tray with a glass of juice and a cup of coffee on it. Tara was still asleep when he entered the bedroom. He set the tray on the bedstand, then eased himself onto the side of the bed and kissed her awake. She lazily curled her arms around his neck and stretched like a sleeping kitten as she made a purring sound in her throat.

“It can’t be morning already.” She kissed at his lower lip, avoiding the tickle of his mustache. “Come back to bed.”

“Can’t,” he said reluctantly. “You asked me to wake you up before I left the house this morning.” For a moment, she couldn’t think why she’d done that. Then she remembered O’Rourke and her desire not to be alone in the house and sleeping if he decided to pay another one of his unannounced visits. “I brought you some coffee and juice.” Ty straightened, and she didn’t try to hold him.

“That’s lovely.” She sat up in bed, plumping pillows behind her.

“Will you be okay?”

“Yes. I. . .” Tara hesitated. The thought of being alone in the house all day suddenly seemed intolerable. Her options were limited. “I think I’ll take the car today and drive somewhere—maybe into Miles City. I understand there’s a small gallery with the works of local artists. I’ll be home before dark, though.”

“I probably won’t be back for lunch, then,” Ty said. “We’ve got a batch of sick calves at the South Branch camp, and the infection is spreading faster than Stumpy can isolate them. More than likely, I’ll be there most of the day.” Ty headed for the door to leave, having tarried too long as it was. “Don’t lock the doors,” he admonished.

The veterinarian had a well-worn earthiness about him, and a face that carried a no-nonsense look as well as a simple gentleness. “The infection isn’t serious in itself,” he said to Ty in a voice that was weary and edged with frustration. “But it weakens the calves and leaves ’em open to pneumonia. So we’re fightin’ a war on two fronts.” There was a faint twinkle in his eyes. “Niles’s wife warned me that I’d better find some miracle drug to cure them, because there isn’t room for another sick calf in her kitchen.”