This Calder Sky (Calder Saga 3)

“I guess there isn’t anything Chase wouldn’t do for him,” Buck said thoughtfully. “Once he sinks his teeth into an idea, he won’t let it go. It was just a matter of time before he got you around to his way of thinking. Chase knew what it was like growing up without a mother, and he didn’t want that for the kid. My mother was kind of a second mother to him, but it isn’t like having your own. I guess that’s the way you thought—wanting the boy to have his own father.”

“Yes.” Maggie didn’t dissuade him from that belief. There was no reason to tell him Chase had initially blackmailed her into this marriage with threats of winning Ty away from her.

“Chase and me were practically raised as brothers. I have pretty strong feelings about him. I guess you know the story. There aren’t many people that would give an ex-con another chance. I owe him a lot, but I guess I don’t have

to convince you what kind of a man he is.” A short laugh came from him. “Here I am, riding beside a beautiful woman, and what am I doing? Raving on about her husband! I’m really slipping. I’d better deliver you to Chase before I lose my reputation.” He spurred his horse into a canter and Maggie followed suit.

The lowing of cattle greeted them as they crested a rise and a meadow spread out before them. The holding pens were in the center of it. Maggie easily spotted Chase among the riders. Mounted on a blood bay gelding, he was positioned near the main gate of the holding pens, watching the action. Buck stayed beside her, not leaving until she was delivered into Chase’s hands.

“Here she is, safe and sound,” he said with a wide grin.

“Thanks, Buck.” Chase was too busy looking at her to notice Buck tip his hat respectfully toward Maggie before reining away. “You look like a young girl again with your hair tucked under your hat like that.”

But he already knew the maturity of the curves beneath the long-sleeved designer blouse of yellow chamois cloth, and his gaze was now lingering on her mouth. She smoothed an escaping tendril of hair under her hat, enjoying the warm disturbance his look caused.

“It’s getting too long,” she said to explain why she was wearing her hair the old way, then broke contact with his eyes to survey the scene. “Where’s Ty?”

“He’s out with Dave finishing the gather. We should start moving the herd within the hour.” There had been a delay in driving this herd to summer graze due to a breakdown of a windmill pump, and a creek unexpectedly went dry, making the water supply on the range temporarily insufficient. Now the pump was fixed and a beaver dam high upstream had been destroyed to allow water to flow in the creek bed again. He challenged Maggie with a glittering look. “Want to cowboy this afternoon?”

“Sure.” It had been a long time since she’d actually worked on a ranch. It sounded like fun.

When the last of the stragglers were brought in and the count was confirmed, the gates to the holding pens were opened and the herd was driven out. While Maggie rode the left flank beside Chase and two other riders, Ty was stationed back on drag. Not wanting to be pegged a “momma’s boy,” he had barely nodded to her when he’d ridden in with his teacher-partner, Dave. Amused, but understanding, Maggie had been careful not to watch her son too closely.

A cow and calf broke from the herd directly in front of Chase and Maggie. His blood bay gelding made a lunge after them, but Chase reined it short and nodded to her. “They’re yours.”

Maggie relaxed the pressure on the bit and, quick as a cat, her bay gelding was streaking after the fleeing pair. The old exhilaration of pursuit returned. The cow was turned and trotting toward the herd, the calf at its side. In that wild moment, racing over rough ground, it became sharply clear how much she had missed this life. That was why she had adjusted to it so quickly and so easily. There was a flash of guilt that her education and all the things Phillip had taught her might go to waste out here. Her concentration was broken. She wasn’t prepared for the sudden swerve of her horse as it checked a half-hearted attempt by the cow to make another escape to freedom. The gelding jumped out from under her and Maggie tumbled to the ground, rolling and coming to a stop, sitting up, unhurt. For an instant, all she could do was sit there, surprised, stunned. When she saw the black legs of Chase’s red bay gelding beside her, she looked up. He could see she was unhurt and amusement glimmered in his eyes. Suddenly a smile broke across her face and she laughed at herself.

“I got caught sitting loose. I guess I’m a bit rusty.” She rolled to her feet, brushing off the seat of her pants, and picked her hat up off the ground.

“You’ll have plenty of opportunity to practice.” Reaching down, he clasped her forearm and swung her into the saddle behind him. She wrapped her arms around his middle, holding on tighter than was necessary as Chase turned his horse toward the herd.

One of the riders had caught her loose horse and was waiting midway to the herd. When they reached him, Maggie loosened her hold to swing down, but the saddle creaked as Chase half-turned to hook an arm around her waist. Instead of lowering her to the ground, he curved her against his side, pressing her hips against his thigh. She saw the dark fire in his look and felt the responding lift of her pulse as his gaze lingered on her mouth.

“They can see us.” She reminded him of their audience of cowhands.

“They’ll look the other way,” Chase assured her and tipped his head to cover her lips in a hard, hungry kiss. Then he reluctantly lowered her to the ground. There was a disturbed rhythm to her pulse as she swung into the saddle of her own mount. Joy filled her when she reined her horse alongside his, their legs brushing, a joy that was both fierce and fragile. They rode forward at a shuffling trot, not in a great hurry to catch up with the herd that had passed them.

Ty had been assigned the position of riding drag with a veteran cowboy. The position at the rear of the herd was the least desirable, since the rider was subjected to the collective stench, heat, and dust of the herd. It was frustrating to be constantly assigned to the lowliest tasks. When he’d ridden that green-broke gelding to a walk, he thought he had proven himself, but he soon discovered he hadn’t. True, he was out on the range working cattle, but his remuda string consisted of the worst horses on the ranch, those with either nasty habits or purely mean streaks. The other cowboys made him the butt of innumerable practical jokes, and his ignorance of ranch work and cattle made him gullible to almost any tall tale a cowboy chose to tell him. There were times when Ty was convinced everyone hated him, and other times he was certain he would never be accepted by them. He vacillated between a grim determination to prove himself and a bitter desire to tell them all to go to hell.

What made it worse, he had no one to whom he could confide his frustrations. His father had made it plain from the beginning not to come complaining to him, that he had to sort out his own difficulties. And his mother … In the first place, the way she acted around his father, Ty knew she would side with Chase. Besides, he had been so determined to live here, and there was the matter of his pride if he went to her and told her he couldn’t take it. And if she did try to intervene on his behalf, then the cowboys would probably start calling him a “momma’s boy.”

A shallow creek intersected the path of the herd. The first cows were pushed across it and the rest followed. Ty started to follow the stragglers across the stream, but his glass-eyed horse pricked its ears nervously at the glistening sheen of the sun on the water’s surface and began mincing along the smooth graveled bank. The water was no more than ankle-deep, and Ty became impatient with his mount and jabbed his heels into the animal’s belly to force it into the shallow water. The horse leaped sideways, avoiding the glistening water and nearly unseating him.

With his free right hand, he grabbed for the saddle horn to pull himself back into the seat. He had barely regained the off stirrup when his fellow drag-rider came alongside and brought the end of his nylon rope down sharply on the hand clutching the saddle horn. Even through the tough cowhide leather of his glove, Ty felt the smarting sting of the rope. Still trying to control his unruly horse, he shot a furious look at the cowboy.

“Hey, cut that out!” he shouted. “Are you trying to get me thrown?”

The tobacco-cheeked cowboy just grinned and slapped his hand again. It was harder the second time, the ensuing pain forcing Ty to let go of the saddle horn. Ty was burning-mad, but his hands were full trying to control the iron-jawed horse that had started bucking. Although he was determined not to be bucked off, he hadn’t fully regained his balance, so he had to keep grabbing for leather to avoid being thrown. Each time he did, the rope lashed out to slap the offending hand.

Maggie had seen Ty’s horse balk at the creek crossing. At first she thought the other rider was staying close to help him. It was only after the third or fourth time that she realized the rider was slapping Ty’s hand away from the saddle horn. All her maternal instincts surged as she called Chase’s attention to what was happening.

“Do you see what he’s doing to Ty?”

Chase barely glanced in the direction of all the commotion, exhibiting little interest in his son’s situation. “It’s just some harmless hazing, Maggie.” He dismissed it as unimportant and angled his horse toward another section of the stream.

“You aren’t going to let them do that, are you? He’s your son!”

“Just ignore it.” The directive was firm and final.