This Calder Sky (Calder Saga 3)

“Hours,” he joked dryly.

In her new environment, Maggie found it easier to respond to his warm sense of humor. She had begun to like him—his gentle ways, his comfortable maturity, and quiet authority. “You haven’t been waiting that long.” She slanted him a reproving look that both mocked and laughed with him. When she started to cross the room to gather her riding equipment, he called her back.

“There’s a present on the divan for you.” He waved a hand in the general direction of the leather-upholstered couch.

“A present?”

“It’s in the way of a belated birthday gift … from Pamela and me.”

Uncertain whether it was proper to accept the gift, Maggie moved slowly to the divan. Laid out neatly on the cushions was a pair of tan jodhpurs, a black hunting jacket, and a white blouse. A pair of tall riding boots sat on the floor in front of the divan. Overwhelmed by his generosity, she could only look at him.

“Do you like them?” He prompted a response from her, his gray eyes smiling.

“Yes.” But she was shaking her head.

“We decided that a lady should have the proper riding costume.”

“You’ve done so much all ready.”

“Maggie—” He stopped, his mouth quirking. “That name doesn’t suit you at all.”

“It’s a nickname my father gave me.” She was almost glad of the change of subject. It gave her time to think. “Aunt Cathleen calls me Mary Frances.”

“With all due respects to your aunt’s religion, the name sounds like it belongs to a nun—Sister Mary Frances.”

“It does,” Maggie admitted with a laughing smile.

“Is that your full name? Mary Frances O’Rourke?” Phillip asked.

“Mary Francis Elizabeth O’Rourke,” she corrected. “Quite a mouthful, isn’t it?”

“Elizabeth.” He savored the name with satisfaction. “You look like an Elizabeth. It’s a queen’s name. Would you mind if I called you that?”

Her teeth sank into her lower lip to halt the unqualified permission from rushing out. He made her feel so important that she waited until the bubble of pleasure had been squelched. “It’s all right. I answer to just about anything these days,” she said with a little shrug that concealed her pleasure.

“All right, Elizabeth. Change into your new riding clothes while I saddle your horse.” He paused long enough to pick up the saddle and bridle from the rack, then walked out. It was a full second after the door had closed that Maggie realized she hadn’t told him she couldn’t accept the present. She glanced at the clothes again and reconsidered. Maybe it would be all right to accept it this time.

During the next month, she discovered just how difficult it was to resist the Gordons—both of them. At Phillip’s insistence, the huge library in the main house was put at her disposal. And Pamela, who welcomed any reason to look after Ty, showed her the proper use of makeup and took Maggie on shopping trips to give advice on clothes.

When she received a letter from Culley, she experienced a twinge of guilt. Her life had become so much easier, so rich and full, while he continued to struggle to make a living—against the weather, against the land, and against the Calders.

September 23

Dear Maggie,

I was glad to hear that everything is working out so well for you. The Gordons sound like really nice people.

The roundup is over for another year. Two of my cows strayed onto Calder range and I had to go get them and cut them out of their herd. Calder sat there on his yellow horse, just as big as you please, acting as if he owned the whole world. Tucker was there. Offered me a cup of coffee, but I told him I’d rather drink poison than coffee brewed in a Triple C pot. He may have sold out, but I never will.

That bunch will probably be at Jake’s tonight, kicking up their heels after three weeks of roundup. I don’t go to Jake’s anymore. He and Tucker might not mind associating with scum, but I do.

I’m tired and there’s hay to cut tomorrow for the winter. I just can’t seem to find anybody to work for me.

I’m glad everything is working out all right for you, Maggie. Take care.

Your brother,

Culley