This Calder Range (3 page)

“You can have the gray gelding in the first stall,” he said. “Jest turn him loose when you're through with him. He'll find his own way back. Always does.”

“Thanks, Stoney.” He picked up the rifle he'd leaned against the side of the stable and started down the dusty street.

Several blocks down the street, he came to one of the few wooden sidewalks. His footsteps were heavy with fatigue, his spurs rattling with each leaden stride. Although his body was bone-weary, his eyes never ceased their restless scanning of the streets. But they paid little attention to the store buildings he passed, except to note customers going in or out.

“Benteen?” a female voice called out to him, uncertain.

He stopped, half-turning to glance behind him. A rawly sweet wind rushed through his system as he saw Lorna poised in the doorway of the milliner's shop. The hesitancy left her expression and a smile curved the soft fullness of her lips. She seemed to glide across the sidewalk to him, the lightness of her footsteps barely making any sound at all. A blue ribbon swept the length of her long dark hair away from her face and left it to cascade in soft curls down her back. She was like
spring, fresh and innocent in her long dress of white cotton with small blue flowers.

The top of her head barely reached his shoulder. Her brown eyes sparkled with the pleasure of seeing him. “I thought it was you.” Her voice sang to him.

His eyes drank in the essence of her like a thirsty man long without water. He'd forgotten what a little thing she was. Not so little, perhaps, Benteen corrected as his gaze noticed her firm young breasts pushing at the demure front of her gown that covered her all the way to her neck.

“Where have you been?” she asked as she scanned his haggard and disreputable appearance. “I was beginning to worry about you. The others came back from the drive months ago. Where have you been all this time?”

A surging warmth gentled his rough features. Benteen stroked her smooth cheek with his forefinger, wanting to do more than just touch her. “You sound just like a wife already,” he teased softly. He was conscious of his trail grime and unshaven face. The public street didn't make this meeting any easier.

His remark made Lorna lower her gaze, betraying her excited shyness. At times, Lorna Pearce seemed to be a living contradiction. There was a Madonna-like quality to her features, yet her brown eyes could be bold and spirited, revealing an intelligence that she usually concealed in a womanly fashion. She was sometimes as gay and full of laughter as a young girl, and other times, very calm and self-confident. At the moment, she looked incredibly young—too young to be a wife; but she was seventeen, soon to be eighteen, definitely a marriageable age.

She slanted him a look, a sauciness behind her proper air. “If I were your wife, Chase Benteen Calder, I'd take after you with a rolling pin for being away so long without writing me a single word.”

He chuckled softly at the threat, not believing she was capable of anything that remotely resembled violence.
His features were so solidly composed that when he smiled, the change in his expression was always complete and surprising. He looked over at the shop she'd come out of. “What are you doing here?” Her father's general store—Pearce's Emporium—was several blocks down the street. “Spending your father's money on another hat?”

“No. I'm waiting to spend your money,” Lorna retorted. “I was visiting a friend.” She glanced toward the door, where a rather plain brown-haired girl was standing. “You remember Sue Ellen, don't you? We went to school together,” she reminded him, and discreetly motioned for her girlfriend to come forward. “Her mother owns the millinery shop.”

The girl approached them timidly. “Hello, Mr. Calder,” she greeted him in a slightly breathless voice.

“Benteen,” he corrected, and wondered what the two girls had in common, besides Miss Hilda's School for Young Ladies. “How are you, Sue Ellen?”

“Fine, thank you,” she murmured, barely opening her mouth.

Lorna confidently faced him and challenged, “You still haven't told me where you've been all this time.”

“It's a long story. I'll come by the house tonight and we'll talk.” He rubbed a hand over his chin, whiskers scraping his rough palm. “Right now, I need a shave and a bath.”

“Come for dinner,” Lorna invited.

“Six o'clock?” That was the usual time the Pearce family dined.

“Yes,” she nodded.

The smile he gave Lorna was for her alone, but he turned and politely touched the brim of his hat in deference to her girlfriend. His stride wasn't quite so heavy when he continued down the street.

The first time he'd seen her was two years ago in her father's store. Even then Benteen had been attracted to her, but of course she'd been too young. From that day on, he'd become a regular customer of Pearce's Emporium,
hoping to catch glimpses of her. During trailing season, her parents didn't allow her to come to the store. Cowboys on the town, even those with the utmost respect for the gentler sex, could sometimes get offensive when they'd had one too many glasses of red-eye. The Pearces naturally wanted to protect their daughter from such regretable advances.

When Lorna had turned sixteen, Benteen had asked her father's permission to come calling. With some initial reservations about his ability to provide a good living, his request had been granted. Benteen had never doubted from the moment he saw her that he would someday make Lorna his wife.

Before he'd left on the trail drive last spring, he'd asked for her hand in marriage. He hadn't wanted to set a wedding date until he'd found a place for them. Benteen had always known his father would have welcomed him and his bride at the ranch, but there was no future. The Cee Bar was gradually being squeezed out by Judd Boston. It was only a matter of time before Boston acquired it on a tax sale. The ranch couldn't support his father, let alone Benteen and Lorna.

For the last three years he'd been saving every dime he could. He'd rounded up mavericks and added them to the trail herds he'd taken north. He'd managed to put almost a thousand dollars aside, with the thought of buying a place where they could build a future. Now that money could go into putting together an outfit to trail north with a herd of maverick longhorns from the Texas brush, since the land in Montana Territory was going to cost him only a filing fee.

Lorna would make him the perfect wife. Her head wasn't filled with dreams about big cities and fancy clothes like his mother. She was sensible and practical —and beautiful. The blood ran strong through his veins.

Lorna's nerves were all ajumble when she heard the footsteps on the front porch. She didn't have to look at
the clock to know it was Benteen. Her pounding heart told her to run to the door to meet him, but a girl shouldn't appear too anxious. It wasn't proper—and, Lord knew, there were times when Benteen made her feel very improper.

She pretended to straighten a setting of silverware on the table, covered with her mother's best linen cloth. There was a knock at the door. She caught her father's faintly amused glance as he looked up from the day's issue of the Fort Worth
Democrat.

“It must be Benteen,” she murmured.

“Must be,” he agreed dryly and managed to keep the pipe clenched between his teeth as he spoke.

The long skirt of her china-blue dress rustled softly as she moved slowly toward the door. When she passed the oval mirror in the small foyer, Lorna stole one last glance at her reflection. Her dark hair was swept atop her head, making her look much more adult than she had when he'd seen her that afternoon. She hated for him to think her immature, as he sometimes did, she knew. She definitely looked older—all of eighteen, at least.

When she opened the door, Benteen stood for a minute just looking at her. The bold inspection disturbed her in a way that Lorna wasn't quite sure she should feel. Or maybe it was the change in his appearance that was affecting her.

His hat was in his hand, leaving his head uncovered. Thick brown hair gleamed with polished mahogany lights in the rays of the setting sun. His lean cheeks were freshly shaved, revealing the natural strength of his features. He was wearing a clean white shirt and a string tie. But nothing seemed able to dim that innate power she sensed in him.

“You're a little early,” Lorna said. She felt the need to conceal her pleasure, and she knew the clock hadn't chimed the hour yet.

“Shall I leave and come back?” Benteen mocked her.

“Of course not.” She reached for his hand to draw him into the house.

She was conscious of the pleasant roughness of his fingers as they closed around her hand, holding it firmly. His dark eyes continued to focus on her. Their intensity was something she was never certain how to handle.

“Daddy's in the parlor.” Lorna walked with him to the doors. “You can talk with him while I help Mother in the kitchen.”

“Don't be too long,” he said. “I'm starved.”

He released her hand without objection. As Lorna slipped away, she had the crazy feeling he wasn't talking about food. It excited her the way he looked at her sometimes. Other times, she was glad her parents were in the next room. Even now that she and Benteen were engaged, they were seldom left alone for any long period of time. Usually they sat on the front porch while her parents sat in the parlor. Anytime there was a lull in their conversation, her mother invariably came out to offer them lemonade or refreshments of some sort. Lorna was glad that Benteen respected her too much to suggest they go anywhere without the chaperonage of her parents, partly because she was afraid she might be tempted to agree.

They sat across the table from each other at dinner. At times like this, it was easy for Lorna to imagine how it would be when they were married and lived in a house of their own. She looked forward to having her parents over to dinner.

“Did you say you went up into the Montana Territory, Benteen?” her father inquired as he passed him the bowl of potatoes.

“Yes.” He helped himself to an ample portion. “They're opening up the Indian country to the east. The grass up there is stirrup-deep, ideal cattle range. I'm staking a claim on a choice section of it.”

“You are?” Her father studied him with interest and apparent approval. Lorna brightened with pride.

“It's just what I've been looking for—a place where Lorna and I can build a future,” Benteen stated, sending a brief glance at her. “I figure we can be married in March and leave with the herd I'm driving north in April.”

“Leave?” Lorna repeated. She had the feeling she had missed something. “Where are we going?”

“I just explained,” Benteen replied with a patient smile. “I've found a place in Montana for us. I even have the spot all picked out where we will build our new home.”

“Oh.” It was a small sound to mask her confusion. She pretended an interest in the food on her plate, hardly hearing any of the discussion between her father and Benteen.

Part of her couldn't believe that he was really serious about living in Montana Territory. It was so far away. She couldn't imagine leaving Texas. Benteen had never mentioned this to her before. The idea was more than a little frightening.

Benteen didn't appear to notice her silence or her lack of enthusiasm for his plan for their future. Lorna was conscious of her mother's gaze, but she wasn't willing to meet it. Not yet. Not until she was clear in her own mind.

“That apple pie was delicious, Mrs. Pearce.” Benteen leaned back in his chair, his dessert plate empty.

“Lorna made it,” her mother appropriately gave her the credit, but this was one time when Lorna wasn't proud of her cooking accomplishments. Her mind was too preoccupied with this Montana news. “Would you like more coffee, Benteen?”

“No. Thank you,” he refused, and Lorna felt his eyes on her.

“I'll help clear the table tonight, Clara,” her father volunteered. “I'm sure Benteen and Lorna have a lot to talk about.”

“Yes, of course,” her mother agreed.

The others were already standing by the time Lorna
pushed out of her chair. Almost immediately, Benteen was at her side, curving a hand under her elbow. “Shall we sit in the parlor?” He took her agreement for granted and escorted her into the adjoining room.

Once inside the room, Lorna turned to face him. “Are you really serious about going to Montana, Benteen?”

He seemed slightly taken aback, a dark brow arching. “Yes.”

“But …” Agitation and uncertainty twisted inside her. “Don't you think we should talk about it?”

“What is there to talk about?” He frowned, his gaze narrowing on her. “We've already discussed that I was going to look for a place.”

“Yes, but you didn't say anything about Montana,” Lorna protested. “I thought you were going to buy a place in Texas.”

“There's nothing around here, Lorna,” he stated. “Up there, the sky's the limit—and what a sky it is! Wait until you see it. It's beautiful country.”

“I'm sure it is,” she murmured. “It's just that it's so far away.”

A smile touched his mouth. “You have to leave your parents sometime.” He was beginning to understand her hesitation. He'd forgotten she was so young. Her attachment to her parents was still very strong. That would change once they were married. Her loyalty would shift to him then.

He reached out to take her in his arms. She offered no resistance but she didn't come to him as eagerly as she had in the past either. But Benteen took no notice of that. It had been too long since he'd seen her, and his body was hungry for the feel of a woman's softness.

The numbness caused by his announcement didn't last long under the demand of his kiss. His mouth moved hotly over her lips, a vague roughness in its possession. When his encircling arms pulled her body against him, she felt the burning heat of his hard flesh. Little tremors quivered through her, shaking her. The
intimacy of the embrace alarmed her, because it was arousing desires that seemed sinful.