This Calder Sky (Calder Saga 3)

“Come away from him, Maggie,” Culley ordered and held out his hand to take hers, not letting his gaze leave the tall boy. She hesitated, then placed her hand in his to let him pull her away. “Look at him,” her brother insisted with burning eyes. “Can’t you see it? He’s a Calder!”

She felt the rapid beating of her pulse and tried to sway Culley from his condemnation with the cool, reasonable tone of her voice. “He is my son.”

He pulled her around and grabbed her by the shoulders to hold her still. “It’s his son! Can’t you see it?” The words carried him on. “Why did you bring him back? Why didn’t you get rid of him? Don’t you see, Maggie? Now there are two of them! They are just as strong as they were before! You’ve got to come away with me tonight, Maggie! You’ve got to help me get back at them for what they did! You finally came back to help me, didn’t you? We’ve got to get even with them for what they did!”

Her eyes stung with tears as she saw how hatred had destroyed her brother, blinding him to everything but his obsession for getting revenge on the Calders. He fed on it instead of food, slept with it instead of rest, breathed it like poisoned air. He had never let the wound heal, and now it had infected his soul.

“Oh, Culley,” she whispered brokenly. “Why didn’t you come to California with me?”

Maggie was unaware that behind her, Chase had nodded to one of his men, indicating he wanted Ty escorted from the house before his presence precipitated a violent incident. She gazed at the fine glimmer of sweat on Culley’s forehead, a glimpse of the hell living inside him.

“I had to stay!” His voice lifted to a breaking pitch in answer to her question. “You’ve got to come with me, Maggie! I need help!”

She groaned, because he did. His hands squeezed her shoulders together. The pain it caused gave her a hint of the forces pressing and pulling at him. She sank her teeth into her lower lip to keep from crying out a protest at the way he was hurting her. Then it wasn’t needed, as Buck and the other cowboy came up behind him, taking him firmly by the arms and forcing him to release her. It was a second before Culley realized what was happening and began struggling to get loose. She took an instinctive step toward him, wanting to help him in some way, but a pair of hands closed on the curved points of her shoulders. Chase was behind her.

As his image appeared to stand beside Maggie, Culley began shouting. “You let her go! You aren’t going to keep her here! I’ll get her away from you and send her far away from here, like I did before! You can’t keep her! Do you hear me, Calder?!!”

“No. You hear me, Culley.” His hard voice was clear and strong. “I can’t stop Maggie from visiting her brother, but don’t you ever set foot on Calder land again.” There was an ominous ring to the cold warning. Then Chase was addressing his friend and foreman. “Buck, escort him off the property and don’t leave him until he’s off the Triple C.”

Twisting Culley’s arms high in the middle of his back, the two men frog-marched him out of the house to his truck. “I’ll ride with O’Rourke and make sure he doesn’t get any funny ideas between here and the main gate,” Buck said. “You follow us, Dave.”

“Right.”

Maggie didn’t resist the pressure from the hands that turned her away from the front door. She looked up to the grim male countenance.

“I meant it. I don’t ever want him on Calder land again,” Chase repeated.

“He’s my brother.”

“That’s why he walked out of here.” His hands tightened, as if he wanted to shake her into realizing the restraint that had been exercised. Control came to the front again, running a muscle along his jawline. “I can’t stop you from seeing him outside this ranch. I don’t think he’d ever hurt you, but I saw the way he looked at Ty.”

Fear choked her for an instant because she had seen it, too, and it had frightened her. “He needs help.”

The mute appeal in her green eyes reached out to Chase. “I know.” He gathered her gently into his arms, letting her head rest against his chest. His jaw brushed the sleek curls along the side of her hair. “But there is nothing you can do for him, Maggie. It’s professional help he needs.” He rubbed his hand over her back. His intent was to comfort and reassure her, but he was also feeling the womanly contours of her slender shape. It stirred the desires that had slept within him. As if she sensed the change, she moved out of his arms, and Chase let her go. “I’ll go see Doc Barlow tomorrow and ask him to stop out one evening to talk to Culley. Maybe your brother will listen to him,” he suggested, noticing that she was avoiding his eyes.

“Yes.” It was a level agreement, without feeling or speculation. She moved toward the staircase. “Good night.” That was flat, too, drained of emotion.

“Maggie?” The low urgency of his voice brought her head up sharply. She looked fragile and breakable. “Are you all right?”

She wavered, then nodded coolly, “Yes.”

When she had disappeared up the staircase, Chase let himself silently out of the house and stood on the porch, where the coolness of the night air washed over him.

It was mid-morning before Chase was able to squeeze some free time out of his schedule. The honking of a truck horn stopped him near the commissary. He turned, impatient with the delay, and saw Nate behind the wheel of a pickup, his head sticking out the window.

“The kid is cleaning out the stud barns this morning!” he called.

A smile slanted his mouth as he sketched the old foreman a salute. That old man had a way of reading his mind. He altered his course for the isolated stable where the ranch stallions were kept separate from the other horses. Ty was leaning against a sturdy fence, a boot resting on the lowest board and his arms crossed on the top rail. A wheelbarrow full of manure and straw was beside him. Chase slowed his steps to study the confused and faintly dejected profile of his son. When he came up beside him, he deliberately fixed his gaze on the claybank horse inside the corral, as if it really was the object of Ty’s thoughts.

“The stallion is quite an animal, isn’t he?” Chase remarked, aware of Ty’s guilty start at being caught loafing on the job.

“Yes, sir.”

“Cougar was my father’s personal mount, and probably the best cutting horse we have on the place. He passes that cow sense onto his get. That’s what makes him such a good breeding stallion.” He studied the whitening muzzle of the heavy-jawed stallion.

“Does anybody ever ride him anymore?” Ty asked with only an idle interest.

“No. I retired him to stud when my father died and left the ranch to me.” Chase paused and continued in the same conversational tone. “It’s natural to be upset and confused about what happened last night, Ty.”