It was another hour before Chase and Buck left the saloon to return to the ranch, which made it well after midnight. Buck drove.
“I though you weren’t going to be sober enough to drive home,” Chase reminded him when they started out.
“I changed my mind.” Buck shrugged and changed the subject. “The next time we come, you’re going to have to reserve yourself some time with JoBeth. She is the sexiest damned thing—and wild! Whooeee! That damned bitch got scarlet lipstick all over my shorts before I could get them off. Can’t you just see Mom’s face when she finds them in with the dirty clothes?” He laughed and shook his head. “I tell you, Chase, that JoBeth is something else!”
Chase made a murmuring sound of agreement and stared out the window at the midnight-black sky. It was a different dark-haired girl he had on his mind.
The supper dishes were washed, dried, and put away in the cupboards, but Maggie was still in the kitchen, alone, staring at the calendar by the back door. She counted and counted again, unable to believe she was that late. She couldn’t be pregnant. She just couldn’t be.
What was she going to do? She turned away from the calendar, fighting the waves of panic rushing through her. Forcing herself to think calmly and rationally, she reasoned that being three weeks late did not necessarily mean she was pregnant. There were other factors that could have affected her cycle.
She’d go see Doc Barlow on Thursday and find out for sure. Until then, it was ridiculous to worry herself into a nervous state. After all, Chase had assured her he was careful. But what if she was pregnant? a frightened part of her mind asked. What then? What would she do? What would Chase say when she told him?
A door slammed; Maggie spun around. There were three different sets of footsteps approaching the kitchen. Two were obviously those of her father and brother, and she realized the third belonged to Bob Tucker when she heard him talking.
“…. It happened three nights ago, on Friday.”
“What started it?” her father asked.
“Jake heard them talking about Dolly; then suddenly they were fighting.” The three entered the kitchen as Tucker finished his reply. He took off his hat when he saw Maggie, smiling with his small mouth. “Hello, Maggie
. How are you this evening?”
Tucker was always polite to her, respectful and warm. There was never any pity in his eyes, only silent approval. Although there was a certain grotesqueness in his disproportioned shape, the large body and the small head, she liked him, anyway. When he said something, she felt she could believe him.
“I’m fine. I didn’t expect to see you around here for quite a while.” She thought they had decided to keep away from each other after Calder had seen them together. They were going to let everything cool down for a while, so her father had said. She glanced at her father. “Calder is already suspicious of you,” she reminded him and noticed the way he avoided her eyes.
“Put on some coffee, Maggie,” he said rather than reply to her comment. “Tucker and me have some things to talk over.”
But she wasn’t about to be distracted. “What things?” A chill ran down her spine.
“Calder is positive that he’s scared us off with his patrols. We figure it’s time we hit him again,” her father admitted and swaggered cockily to the table. “He can be as suspicious as he wants, but he can’t prove nothing. If he could, he would have been all over us already. Tucker and me have decided to call his bluff.”
“But the patrols!” Maggie tried to think of something to dissuade them.
“After this much time, they won’t be as alert as they were in the beginning,” Tucker assured her. “They’ll be bored with the routine of it. Don’t worry.”
“When?”
“That’s what we’re going to decide. Now, put some coffee on girl, like I told you,” her father ordered.
Two nights later, Webb Calder was asleep in his heavy-framed bed when the fire bell outside clanged its alarm. The signal awakened him instantly to full alertness. Throwing back the covers, he stepped into his pants as he rose from the bed. Out his window, he could see the faint glow of an orange flare.
He stared at it for a long minute, standing with his pants fastened but still unzipped. He shook his head sadly, but there was no compromise in him. He’d taken his stand, made his statement; now he had to back it all up.
“Damn you, Angus,” he sighed heavily, then reached for his shirt.
The sun was hot overhead. Webb wiped the perspiration from his upper lip with a handkerchief, then rubbed the cloth down his neck. “How many, Nate?” His voice was hard, as unyielding as his granite-brown eyes.
“The plane is making one last sweep to see if we missed spotting any. Right now it looks like twenty-eight.”
“It’s Angus O’Rourke,” Webb stated, and his foreman didn’t appear surprised.
“What are we going to do?” Nate took it for granted that they would do something. He only waited for orders to carry them out.
“I warned him I’d come after him personally if any more beef was stolen.” To this point, Webb had not taken his gaze from the herd being counted. “I want you, Chase, and three other men to meet me at the north range by ten o’clock tomorrow morning. We’ll ride over to O’Rourke’s from there.” Now he swung his gaze to probe into the foreman’s face. “We’re taking a rope with us, so keep that in mind when you pick the three men.”
“We’ll be there at ten.” Nate casually crushed a cigarette under his boot, then walked slowly away.