This Calder Sky (Calder Saga 3)

“He’s my father!” he insisted.

“He was just somebody who lived on the ranch next to ours.” What an understatement! “He didn’t want us, Ty. Phillip did.”

“I was born in California. He’s never even seen me. How do you know he doesn’t want me?”

“Ty, stop it. Stop imagining things. Stop building up a lot of romantic ideas in your head,” she argued out of fear.

“But I have a father out there I’ve never even seen. He is alive, isn’t he?” Although it was in a question form, it was a statement of conviction.

Maggie hesitated a fraction of a second, then lied: “I don’t know.”

“He is,” Ty stated. “That’s why you’ve never wanted to visit your brother—because you don’t want to see him again.”

“That isn’t true.” But it was.

He passed a hand over his face, as if the action would wipe away the confusion and enable him to understand what was happening. “Why didn’t you tell me about him before? Why did you let me find out about him like this?”

“Ty, I’m sorry.” Sorry that he had found out at all. “I know it’s difficult for you, but what would it have accomplished if I had told you about him?”

“You don’t understand! He’s my father,” he groaned and pushed past her, but not before she had seen the glimmer of tears in his eyes. Long strides carried him out of the room before he did something unmanly, like crying in front of her. She felt his pain, but doubted if he knew hers. He was at that difficult age where he was convinced no one could understand.

For days afterward, he was silent and brooding, shutting himself in his room or going off somewhere alone without telling her where he was going or when he’d be back. She was being punished, Maggie realized, yet she clung to the hope that sooner or later he would listen to her and forget about the man who had fathered him.

The jingle of the morning alarm awakened her and she rolled tiredly over to silence it. Her hand brushed a piece of paper, knocking it to the floor. She reached over the side of the bed to pick it up. The familiar penmanship scrawled across the paper chased the sleep from her eyes as she sat up to read the note.

Dear Mom,

I’m sorry that I couldn’t tell you good-bye in person, but I knew you’d try to stop me. Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself. Please try to understand. I had to do this.

I love you,

Ty

She flung aside the bedcovers and raced to his room down the hall, but he wasn’t there. His shaving equipment, toothbrush, and comb were all gone from the bathroom. She searched his closet and drawers, trying to determine what clothes he had taken, but she was too overwrought to remember accurately what he had. He had run away. She began imagining all sorts of terrible things, from Ty being hit by a car while hitchhiking along the highway to some psychotic motorist murdering him. When she called the police, they explained he had to be missing for a minimum of twenty-four hours before they could enter the case. Although Maggie could only guess that he’d left sometime in the night, she got dressed, phoned her office to tell them she wouldn’t be in, and went out looking for him herself, driving up and down every street, highway, and interstate looking for him.

Chapter XXVI

Chase wrapped both hands around the steaming mug of black coffee to warm them. It was a nippy spring day that turned his breath to a white vapor. The sheepskin collar of his jacket was turned up against the chill, and his Stetson was pulled down low and snug to keep his head warm. He watched the herd of horses come sweeping over the rise, a sea of chestnuts, bays, buckskins, and sorrels, their shaggy winter coats hiding their smooth, muscled lines. The ground vibrated with the thunder of their galloping hooves and Chase felt that old excitement flare.

It was always like this when the horses were rounded up and brought in from their winter range. Their arrival signaled the start of another season; the spring roundup wasn’t far away. A wild and raucous time was ahead as the cowboys picked out their horse strings and threw saddles on horses that had run wild through the long winter. There were some out there that would buck as wild as any rodeo bronc, but their riders wouldn’t have the benefit of a timer. No, they had to ride all the kinks and humps out of their horses. There would be plenty of excitement around here for a few days until the crews were selected and sent out on the spring roundup.

The ocean of horses swirled through the open gates of a big pen. For all their wild snortings and carryingson, they knew the ranch buildings meant hay and grain, so they needed no real urging to enter the fenced enclosure. As the gate was closed behind the last horse, a rider separated himself from the others and trotted his horse toward Chase.

“They look fat and sassy.” Buck grinned and swung out of the saddle. He sniffed appreciatively at the coffee. “Boy, that smells good.”

Chase took a swallow of the scalding liquid and then handed the mug to Buck. There was no more trace of prison pallor and the smile was back, but there were changes in him—changes for the better, in Chase’s opinion. Buck was steady, hard-working, and reliable, never shirking any chores or responsibilities. Buck had become one of the Triple C’s top foremen. He and Chase were now the kind of working combination that Chase had always thought they could become. It was a good feeling to have his best friend back.

Shoving his hands into the lined jacket pockets where his gloves were, Chase walked to the fence for a closer look at the horses. Buck accompanied him, leading his horse. He agreed with Buck’s earlier assessment.

“They wintered well.”

“Uh-huh.” Buck made an affirmative sound as he gulped down a swallow of hot coffee and crooked an elbow on the top rail. “When I was in town the other day, I got to talking to Lew.”

“Talking, or gossiping?” Chase mocked his friend.

“With him, it’s one and the same thing.” He grinned. “Anyway, he was telling me that old man Anderson didn’t have a will when he died in that farm accident last fall. It seems he was married before and had two children by his first wife. They hired themselves some lawyers and claimed a share of his estate. It looks like Anderson’s widow is going to have to sell the farm so his first two kids can get their share of the settlement from the estate.”

“I hadn’t heard that. It’s rough,” Chase mused and ran a practiced eye over the horses scattering to graze.