Promise Broken (The Callahan Series) (11 page)

Donovan’s behavior was so out of character she wondered if she knew him at all. She’d even begun to have romantic thoughts about him. How like her. Wasn’t that what she’d done with Victor? Only when she’d found out about Victor it was too late. Maybe she wasn’t that good a judge of character after all.

In less than two minutes Cal was back with a roll under his arm, heading for his Harley. He looked completely dejected. Damn it, he was just a kid, goofing off. She’d caused the problem, not Cal
.
Though her legs were a little unsteady, she ran after him. “Don’t leave, Cal. It was a misunderstanding. Donovan will apologize.”

Cal gave her a look. “I don’t think so.”

“Where will you go?”

Cal shrugged. “Does it matter? I’m not about to stick around for more of whatever that was.”

What could she do to stop this injustice? “It’s my fault.”

Cal was at the end of the barn where he stored his Harley. “Tell Mark goodbye for me.”

“Please, Cal,” she tugged on his arm. “Donovan didn’t mean it. I know he didn’t.”

Cal gave her a twisted smile. “Oh, he meant it all right.”

He put on his helmet, straddled his bike. “I’m outta here,” he yelled, and took off.

Tears ran down her cheeks as she watched him leave. He didn’t even wait for his pay. Putting her head in her hands, she burst into tears.

She’d thought she was finished with panic attacks. Apparently not.

Chapter Nine

Donovan tried walking off his rage by pacing up and down beside the corral.

Seeing Cal attack Phyl had brought back the stunning truth that his biological father had attacked and raped Mom. Just seeing Phyl, her face red, her breath coming in uneven gasps, had made him more than angry. Nothing like that would happen here.

But Cal of all people? He was like a rich kid playing at working, with a sense of humor that kept them all laughing. How had his impeccable manners and earnest smile fooled them?

He heard the Harley rumble to life and take off, went back to find Phyl working in one of the barn stalls.

“Tell me the truth. Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”

“What’s wrong with you?” She stared hard at him. “You need help—professional help.” She whirled around to leave as Donovan reached out to stop her. She jerked away, left him standing alone in the barn.

What had just happened?

One minute Cal’s attacking Phyl, the next she’s attacking me for defending her.

Am I missing something?

He couldn’t slow his heartbeat long enough to understand what had just happened. Why wasn’t she even a little bit grateful?

He sank down on a bale of hay, willing his anger to drain away. He tried to figure out why Phyl had just acted as she did and what had come over Cal. In the short time he’d been here, the young man had been respectful to his mom and to Phyl. Even a cowboy like himself could tell Cal came from a good background. So why had he pulled that stunt? Even more curious was why Phyl’s attitude was the opposite of what he expected.

When he went into the kitchen, Phyl wasn’t there. Mark was eating dessert and Mom had an angry look in her eyes.

“We didn’t wait.”

“I can see that. Where’s Phyl?”

“Mom went upstairs,” Mark said, taking a last bite. “She wants me to go to our room when I finish.”

“Do you think you can wait a bit? I need to talk to her.”

“Sure.” He turned to Nellie. “Can I watch TV?”

“After you rinse your plate and put it in the dishwasher,” she said.

“You’re just like Mom,” he mumbled, but did as he was told.

Donovan took the stairs two at a time.

He stood at her door, suddenly afraid. But Phyl had been upset with him at the barn when she shouldn’t have. He needed to know why. He knocked softly.

“Come in, Mark.”

He opened the door. “It isn’t Mark.”

She turned at the sound of his voice, her eyes wide with apprehension.

“I wanted to talk to you about what just happened.”

“Oh? You have an explanation?”

“Cal was hurting you. I had to stop him. Okay, I got a little angry, but I saw you struggling, heard you cry out.” He watched her, saw the anger and indignation. “Why aren’t you upset with Cal?”

“What are you talking about?” She held up her hand. “It’s a splinter. I couldn’t get it out. Cal couldn’t. He was trying to help me. Not hurt me. Then it became a game—a challenge. Why would you jump to such a conclusion? Cal hasn’t done a thing since he’s been here to justify what you just did.”

Donovan felt the blood drain from his face. “You were struggling,” he said weakly. “You looked scared.” He’d jumped to the wrong conclusion. Would he ever get the boy to understand? Or Phyl, for that matter? He’d let his emotions propel him into doing the wrong thing. Would he be like this the rest of his life? Would he wonder if he was more like his biological father than the man who raised him? Would he always doubt his actions because of it?

He wiped a hand over his face. It still felt strange with the whiskers gone. “I’ll find him and apologize. Then I’ll see if he’ll come back.”

She shook her head. “An apology may not be enough. Even if you thought he was hurting me, why didn’t you just yell at him to stop?” She searched his eyes. “I think you scared him. I was afraid you would hit him.”

Phyl wanted an explanation, but he wasn’t ready to tell her the truth. He couldn’t lie either. “I thought he was hurting you,” was all he could admit to.

****

“‘Bout time you shaved,” Dugan grinned thirty minutes later. “Getting tired of seeing that fuzz on your face.”

“Too hot.” Donovan paced Dugan’s office. “Have you seen Cal?”

Dugan leaned back in his chair, looked at his older brother. “He roared through town a while ago. I was tempted to ticket him.”

“Why didn’t you?” That would have slowed him down.

“He wasn’t speeding. A Harley is a loud machine. Every person in town turned to watch him.”

Donovan headed toward the door. “Which way did he go?”

“Looked as if he was heading for San Antonio, but you’ll never catch him.”

“I have to.”

“Sit down, Don. Tell me what’s going on.”

Donovan took another couple of turns around the office, then sank into the chair at Dugan’s desk. “I fired Cal and Phyl thinks I’m crazy.”

Dugan chuckled. “That’s all? Hell, I thought something was wrong.”

Donovan leaned forward, put his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. “I really screwed up this time, Dugan.”

Dugan turned serious. “You screwed up when you left home. Nothing can be as serious as that.”

“This is. I went to the barn and saw Cal and Phyl at the far end. It looked as if they were struggling, like she was trying to pull away and he wouldn’t let her. I shoved him around. Fired him. Told him he had five minutes to get off the ranch.”

“If Cal was hurting Phyl, I’d do the same,” Dugan admitted. “Sounds like you were protecting her.”

“That’s the problem. He was just trying to get a splinter out of her hand. I should have found out what was going on. Instead, I went blind with rage at the thought he might hurt her.”

Dugan was silent.

“You know what I thought.”

Dugan squirmed in his chair.

“You can say it. I thought Cal was trying to force himself on her.” The rest hung in the room like an ugly fog.

“You made a mistake.”

Donovan wasn’t pacified. “If I wasn’t your brother, what would you think? As a sheriff? Say it. I lost it.”

Dugan’s eyes clouded with anger. “Yeah, you’re my brother and you’re an idiot. The only thing wrong with you is you won’t put the past where it belongs and get on with your life. You can’t judge every word and every action against an incident that happened thirty-five years ago.”

“I’ve had this anger issue before. I inherited it from…” He swallowed—couldn’t say it, couldn’t say he’d inherited anything from his biological father. Just the thought made his throat close and his heart thump hard against his chest.

Dugan shrugged. “I don’t think science has figured out how we end up with the particular genes or personality traits we’re born with. Whatever we get, we deal with. But I’ll tell you what I learned in college. Two factors figure in here. Nature and nurture. Sure, you got some of Carl Perkins’ genes, but you got Mom’s too. Add in our upbringing and I think you’ve got a lot more pluses going for you than you give yourself credit for.”

So why couldn’t he accept who he was and get on with his life? Dugan, Mom, everyone else thought he was off base to hold doubts about himself and his heritage. As if there was nothing to think about—nothing to worry about.

“For God’s sake, Donovan. Get past it. Yes, I’ve seen you in a fit of temper. You’re not the only one who has one, you know. You’re a good man. You have never, and I repeat, never, hurt anyone or anything.”

“I hurt Cal when I shoved him. You say to get past my heritage. I don’t know how.”

“Finding out the way you did left you raw inside. It had to. If you can’t come to grips with it by yourself, find someone to help you through it.”

“You make it sound so simple, Dugan. It’s not. My world collapsed that day, the same as it did when the herd was ordered destroyed two years ago. Only this was worse.”

Dugan put a hand on Donovan’s shoulder. “Is it getting any better?”

Donovan looked up at his brother perched on the edge of his desk, a worried look in his eyes. Dugan was the jokester in the family, the light-hearted one. But the look he gave Donovan now was deadly serious.

Donovan nodded. “It is. But that hole in my heart is still there. The one that tells me I’m not a Callahan.”

Dugan rolled his eyes. “Get that help, Don. You can get over this, because you
are
a Callahan. Have been since birth. Everyone knows it but you. It’s past time you knew it, too.”

“What if Phyl…?”

Dugan peered into Donovan’s eyes. “Why does what Phyl think mean so much? Wait, there’s something else going on.” He leaned closer, sat back and smiled. The smile broadened into a chuckle.

“There’s nothing funny here, Dugan.”

“You’ve fallen for the pretty ranch hand.” Dugan whooped with delight. “Wait till I tell the others.”

“You’re jumping to conclusions,” Donovan protested.

“I’ve seen the way you look at her, and I see the way you look now.”

“Just your imagination.” Could Dugan be right? True, he was attracted. She was, after all, a beautiful woman. But that didn’t mean anything other than he was a healthy male with active hormones.

Dugan patted Donovan on the shoulder. “If it’s any comfort, she looks at you the same way.”

“You’re losing it, Dugan.” Donovan stood, slammed on his Stetson, headed for the door. Dugan was laughing his stupid head off.

As Donovan stalked outside, he took a deep breath. Dugan was so wrong. There was nothing there but an attraction. An attraction that got stronger by the day.

Though it was growing dark, the air was still hot.

He turned in the direction of Molly’s Diner. He hadn’t had dinner, and though he wasn’t hungry, a glass of iced tea sounded good. Besides, he was in no hurry to get back to the ranch.

Molly’s had been here as long as he could remember. Molly herself still worked the kitchen. With no fast-food places in the small town, Molly’s served as the community’s favorite meeting place. Her cinnamon rolls were what had made her famous. Now almost everyone passing through stopped for a roll and coffee.

He headed to his favorite booth. It took a while to get there, as everyone wanted to say hello. Several wanted to know where he’d been. He nodded and kept walking, passed a couple of booths of happy high school kids. Had he ever been that young and carefree? When he’d settled in and placed an order for iced tea, a fellow rancher headed his way. Donovan groaned. He didn’t come here to talk.

George Watkins slid into the seat across from him. “How’s it going?”

George could talk all night and Donovan wanted to think. He’d make this short. “Good as can be expected.”

“How’s that female ranch hand working out?” He chuckled, as if he couldn’t believe a woman could do the job.

“Never seen a man do better,” Donovan said. And meant it.

George cleared his throat. “Heat wave’s killed a couple of my older heifers. What about yours?”

“Lucky so far.” The man could talk the weather to death. The waitress sat a glass of iced-tea on the table. “Thanks, Amy.” He took a healthy swallow as Amy moved on to the next table.

“Only thing better than iced-tea in this weather is a cold beer,” George volunteered.

Donovan nodded in agreement.

“They’re taking bets on when the heat wave will break. Want in on the action?”

“Better break soon. I’m getting a herd ready for market. Instead of gaining weight, they’re losing it.”

“We need a good hard rain.”

“For sure,” Donovan agreed. He stood, drained his glass, put a bill on the table. “Gotta get back, George. Good talking to you.”

“Same here. And good luck with that herd.” He paused. “Glad that help is working out.” He chuckled again.

Donovan didn’t bother to respond. He’d had the same mind-set when he realized Phyl was running the ranch. Now, he realized how lucky they were when Mom hired her.

Or were they lucky? He’d never had the kind of feelings before that he had around her. Never had a woman he couldn’t get out of his head.

That wasn’t good. Not good at all.

A wave of hot air hit him in the face as soon as he stepped outside, negating the iced-tea and cool air in Molly’s.

George was right. They needed a break in the weather. Soon.

He needed a break from Phyl, too.

Chapter Ten

Phyl and Donovan worked harder than usual the next day, their conversation centering on the cattle and their chores. Then Mateo showed up, his face wreathed in fake smiles, his eagerness making Phyl shudder.

Brandishing his digital camera, Mateo set up his tripod and began to take photos in a seemingly random fashion, not taking the time for the perfect shot as Phyl thought professionals would.