Stands a Calder Man (Calder Saga 2)

“No.” She shook her head firmly, rejecting his proposal with no hesitation. “I won’t meet you like this again.”

It angered him that she could show so little feeling. “I’m letting you stay with another man. All I’m asking is to see you.” Dryness rustled through his voice. “You can’t possibly love me as much as I love you.”

“There are only two people in my life who matter,” she returned quietly. “You and Stefan. The last time we were together, you were nearly killed and Stefan was broken. I couldn’t endure that again.” She looked at him with a resigned sadness. “You are young, Webb. You can forget me and find another woman to love. Stefan is an old man.”

“You’ve finally recognized that,” he muttered tersely, attacking the only thing he could.

“Good-bye.” She was already moving away. Before he could stop her, she was on the other side of the curtain. Webb turned back, his shoulders sagging, and glanced bleakly at Ruth. She lifted a hand toward him, but he brushed it aside as he left through the back door.

19

The locomotive chugged at intervals in the Blue Moon station while it took on more water and its freight was unloaded. A keening north wind blew across the wide plains, dusted with dirty snow. Winter had its cold, blue hand on the sweep of Montana sky. Webb stood on the station platform with his parents, his collar turned up against the wind and his hat pulled low.

“I still don’t know how you managed to get him to agree to this trip, Mother.” There was a faint twinkle in his eyes as he smiled at the slight figure she made, wrapped in the warmth of a fur, with a jaunty little hat adorning her silver hair.

“Hush, Webb. You don’t need to give him any ideas about backing out,” she admonished in jest, then sighed and gazed at her husband. “I doubt it was the letter I received from my mother, letting me know my father wasn’t well. It’s that bull he heard about. It’s always cattle.”

A low chuckle came from Benteen’s throat. “I can’t think of another reason to go to Texas,” he declared and put a coated arm around her shoulders, glancing at Webb. “You’re going to get a taste of what it’s like to be in sole control of the ranch while we’re gone.”

“I think I can manage to

hold things together for a month,” Webb said dryly.

“Was that box of presents loaded with our baggage?” His mother turned an anxious glance toward the railroad car. “I told Mother I’d be bringing them so we could celebrate a second Christmas together.”

“The porter loaded it,” Webb assured her.

“Booarrd!” The conductor called out his long announcement to the waiting passengers.

“That’s us,” his father declared and extended a hand to Webb. “It’s all yours, son. Take care of it.”

“I will.” His hand was clasped in a solid grip, held an instant, then released. Webb bent to kiss his mother’s cheek. “Good-bye, Mother.”

Her dark eyes were misted with tears. “Take care of yourself.” Her gloved fingers fluttered against his cheek.

“Women,” his father murmured with a wry shake of his head. “She’s talked about going to Texas for ages. Now she’s crying because we’re leaving.”

“All aboard!” the conductor called again.

Webb walked with them to the passenger car. “Enjoy yourselves and don’t worry about anything here,” he said as they paused on the car’s platform to wave a last time. Then the conductor was signaling the engineer to move out.

As the train pulled away, Webb stood on the platform, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat. The dusty red caboose rocked over the rails, blocking his view of the passenger cars. He turned and walked to the buggy, climbing in to take up the reins and click to the team of matched bays.

The big house seemed unnaturally quiet that evening. Webb had the feeling it, too, was watching to see how he would handle things. He walked into the den and stopped in front of the desk to look at the framed map. He felt the responsibility the land carried, not only its size, but the well-being of all who lived on it, the cowboys and those with families as well as the animals in their care. He moved his shoulders as if testing the fit. It didn’t bind him, yet he felt the loneliness of it. The need for Lilli was strong in him.

The needlework lay idly in her lap as Lorna Calder studied her mother dozing in the rocking chair with her mouth open. The withered skin and the shriveled body went with the thinning white hair, but they didn’t match the image that had been locked in her mind for so many years. She had known her parents had grown older, yet she hadn’t allowed her picture of them to age. She remembered them so differently.

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Who could ever have imagined her mother snoring? But she was the source of the sound that rose and fell with her breathing. Lorna picked up the needlework to resume the tiny stitches where she had left off.

The afternoon quiet was disturbed by the rattle and chug of an automobile coming down the street outside, its noisy din growing louder as it approached. The stillness was shattered by a sudden, explosive backfire that startled her mother out of a sound sleep. She flung up her hands, the rocker taking off on a noisy creak.

“It’s all right, Mother.” Lorna spoke up quickly. “It’s just an automobile.”

“Those noisy contraptions.” She settled back in her chair and impatiently tugged the shawl around her shoulders. “The streets aren’t safe anymore.” She sniffed her disapproval. “They’re all over the place.”

“They certainly are becoming popular,” Lorna conceded.

Her mother sat up straighter, her wrinkled lips pinching together. “It sounds like that thing stopped in front of the house. Probably broke down. Go take a look, Lorna.” She waved a bony finger to hurry her along.