Calder Born, Calder Bred (Calder Saga 4)

“Just about everything. Coffee, eggs ...” The list went on.

“It’s a damned shame the security man didn’t get a good look at the guy.” Dyson rubbed his chin in irritation, his arm resting on the car’s window frame. “He couldn’t even get a good description of him—just a slim cowboy on a dark horse.”

“It isn’t much to go on,” Stricklin agreed and slowed the car as they entered the ranch yard of the Triple C.

“Maybe nearly getting caught will keep the guy from trying it again,” Dyson offered hopefully. “He’s caused enough trouble already.” His mouth was pressed tightly shut, a furrow of concentration creasing his forehead. “Damn, but I just can’t think why he’s doing it. Why does he keep coming back time after time? Do you have any ideas?”

“None.” He turned the wheel to drive up the knoll to The Homestead.

“I don’t know how much longer we can keep this under wraps,” he said grimly. “Ty mentioned to me when we were here a couple weeks ago that he’d heard we had some trouble on the site. I downplayed it, treating it as malicious vandalism. But I can’t have him thinking he’s going to inherit trouble if he agrees to the deal I made him.”

“Has he indicated which way he’s leaning on the deal?” Stricklin asked as the car rolled to a stop by the front steps.

“No, but I have a feeling it’s going to depend on how financially strapped he is.” Dyson climbed out of the car and halted, looking across the roof of the vehicle, his attention caught by the laughing group approaching The Homestead. “Here comes Tara Lee.”

Stricklin paused by the driver’s side of the car and watched the swimsuited and toweled figures, singling out the green-eyed girl with wet black hair.

The man walking with Cat paused at the base of the knoll and glanced at the slope with weary assessment. Just past thirty, he was plainly out of condition. His thickening waistline was beginning to develop into a paunch which he had ceased attempting to hold in, muscles and energy flagging. When Cat realized he wasn’t keeping up with her, she turned back.

“Are you coming, Mr. Macklin?”

“Do I have a choice?” he countered wryly, puffing slightly from the walk from the river. “I’m going to have to talk to your brother. Either he needs to move the house closer to the river or the river closer to the house. Nobody should have to walk up a hill like that after swimming all afternoon.”

She laughed at his joking complaint and came back to his side. “Maybe I’d better help you,” she declared, treating the situation in the same light vein, and he draped his arm around her shoulders in a mocking show of dependence.

Laughing, they started up the hill as a trio of riders entered the ranch yard. The instant Repp Taylor recognized Cat and failed to recognize the half-naked man in swimming trunks with his arm curved so familiarly around her shoulders, he spurred his horse away from the other two and aimed it at the slope. The drumming sound of approaching hooves quickly made itself heard and slowed the steps of the returning party as they glanced around with mild curiosity.

When Repp reined his horse to a stop a few feet short of Cat, his lean and rugged features wore a displeased look that had nothing to do with his hot and dusty appearance. “I want a word with you, Cat,” he declared in an ominously flat voice and swung out of the saddle.

A little bewildered, Cat stepped away from the houseguest, whose arm had already slid off her shoulders. But her smile showed no confusion. “I’ll be along directly.” She assured the onlooking party that they needn’t wait for her and went to meet Repp.

They started up the knoll again with Tara in the lead. “He’s Cat’s boyfriend,” she murmured in explanation to her guests, showing an amused tolerance for the intensity of young love.

“What did you want, Repp?” Cat asked. Instead of looking at her, he was watching the party ascending the slope to the parked car. “Is something wrong?” She glanced hesitantly over her shoulder in the same direction.

He waited until the group was out of earshot before saying anything; then it was a low, rough demand. “What was the idea of letting that stranger hang all over you?”

“Mr. Macklin?” Her stunned reaction was quickly followed by an urge to laugh aloud at the realization Repp had been jealous. “That was a bit of harmless fun. He was joking that he couldn’t make it up the hill, and I pretended to help him. That’s all.”

“Don’t be so damned naive. That was just an excuse to get his hands on you.” Impatience rippled through him like an angry wind. “You have no business being with a man twice your age to begin with.”

“I wasn’t ‘with’ him.” She didn’t like the way he was attempting to dictate to her. “All of us had spent the afternoon at the river swimming.”

“That’s the worst of it—you parading around half naked for a bunch of strange men to leer at you.”

“I’m not going to listen to that kind of talk.” Her lips were pressed firmly together as Cat turned stiffly to leave, infuriated by his attitude. But Repp grabbed her arm and swung her back.

“You stay away from them,” he ordered.

“They’re our guests,” she insisted.

“Did you invite them?” Repp challenged.

“No, but—”

“Then it’s not up to you to entertain them,” he snapped.

With an angry jerk of her arm, she broke free of his grip. “Don’t try to tell me what I can do, Repp Taylor,” she warned.