This Calder Sky (48 page)

When the job was finished and the mess cleaned up, he took a shower to freshen up. While he was in the
bathroom, Maggie changed the sheets and made the bed.

She heard the shower stop and called, “Would you fill the tub with water for me, Chase? I want to take a bath.”

His muffled response was affirmative, and seconds later she heard water running in the tub. She laid out clothes for each of them on the bed and slipped out of the short, cotton houserobe. When she entered the bathroom, the tub was billowing with scented bubbles and Chase was standing at the sink lathering his face with shaving cream, a towel wrapped around his waist.

His gaze met hers in the mirror. “Do you mind if I shave while you bathe?”

“Of course not.” She tied the mass of black curls atop her head with a strand of red yarn. “I like company.” Turning off the faucets, she immersed herself into the tub, filled with luxuriant bubbles and warm, scented water. “And thanks for drawing my bath—complete with perfumed bubbles.”

Chase paused with the straight-edged razor in his hand and studied the reflection she cast in the mirror as she reclined in the tub. “I remember when I saw you bathing in the river. I don't know which way is sexier—bathing in style, or bathing in the raw.”

Maggie relaxed in the tub, letting her hands idly play with the mounds of bubbles while she watched Chase shave. It was either a very slow process, or he was deliberately taking his time. She studied the flatly roped muscles of his back and shoulders and the bulging strength of his upper arms. His hair was damp, nearly black. He rinsed the razor in the water running from the sink faucet and stroked the blade down his cheek, exposing the darkly tanned skin beneath the lather.

“An electric razor is a lot quicker,” she said for conversation.

“Maybe quicker, but I prefer the blade.”

She let her expression tease him. “I suppose an electric razor isn't ‘he-man' enough for you.”

“Careful,” he warned with amusement, and she laughed. “A blade shaves closer. I thought I might need a smooth face tonight.”

“You might.” There was faint color in her cheeks as she dipped the bath sponge into the water. “Would you wash my back when you're through?”

There were traces of shaving lather on his face when he crossed over to the tub. Kneeling beside it, he took the sponge from her hand and scrubbed her back. Maggie closed her eyes, relaxing under the rough, massaging action.

“You can keep that up all day,” she murmured.

“If I hadn't already taken a shower, I'd climb in there with you.” He stopped and tossed the sponge in the bubbly water in front of her.

As he started to push to his feet, her glance fell on his left arm. A coldness ran through her when she saw the white scar that slashed crookedly across his forearm, and she remembered that it had been caused when she had stabbed at him. She reached out to cover the mark with her hand and block out the unpleasant reminder.

“What's going to happen to us, Chase?” Her voice was low, flatly questioning.

He knew precisely what she was thinking. He caught hold of her hand, gripping it hard. “This isn't paradise. There are scars and flaws in all of us. God knows we're going to have our share of trouble, so don't go looking for it, Maggie. All we can do is hold on tight to what we've got—and pray to God it's enough. We just have to hold on,” he repeated, his voice hard with conviction, “and take it as it comes.”

She lifted her gaze, meeting his with a quiet sureness. The chill remained, but she could face it. “Yes.”

His mouth curved in approval and he dropped a kiss
on her lips. “Hurry up and get out of that tub. Ty will be coming, expecting dinner to be on the table.”

Ty noticed the change almost immediately. One of the first things he said was: “You look beautiful tonight, Mom.” Chase caught her glance and smiled. “Our son has an eye for beauty.”

Ty's gaze darted between his parents, sensing the closeness and the warmth—the secret looks that left him out. He had been aware of the strain between them before and had kept hoping they would start getting along with each other. Now that it had happened, he wasn't altogether comfortable with the change.

That night Maggie was lying in bed when Chase came out of the bathroom and turned off the light. She turned back the bedcovers to let him slide in beside her and snuggled under the arm he wrapped around her.

“Did Ty seem quiet to you tonight?” she asked.

“Yes.” His hand rubbed her arm in a semi-absent caress. “Our son is a little jealous, I'm afraid, and a little uncomfortable with us.”

“But why?” She turned her head, trying to see him in the dark.

“Children—adolescents—have a hard time accepting the fact that their parents—especially their mother—have sexual desires. It's as if once they have been conceived, their parents aren't supposed to do it again. Don't worry,” he murmured, grazing his mouth over her cheekbone. “He'll get over it. Right now, he's just uncomfortable with his own sexual needs.”

“I hope so.” She rubbed her cheek against his mouth, her hands seeking the hardness of his body under the covers.

“If he doesn't straighten out soon, I'll line him up with a girl. It'll take his mind off us.” He had reached the corner of her lips.

But Maggie drew back at his suggestion. “Chase, you wouldn't. He's only fifteen.”

“I wouldn't? You were fifteen, as I recall.” He reached out and pulled her back, threading his fingers in her hair to hold her head still. “Do you know that I've never made love to you at night? Do you suppose I'll know how?”

His mouth covered hers and she forgot all about Ty.

The world seemed brighter to Chase. The grass was greener, the sky was bluer, and the sun was shinier. These last few days he'd walked with new strength, new purpose. Even the weight of running the Triple C rested more lightly on his shoulders.

As he drove into the headquarters, he saw Nate leaving the office where all the records for the breeding stock were kept. The old cowboy wouldn't tell his age, but Chase guessed he was in his sixties. Age had finally caught up with Nate. He couldn't spend long hours in the saddle anymore without coming away all stoved up. But his eye for cattle was unfailing, so Chase had put him in charge of the breeding program to continually improve their range stock. Chase honked the horn to attract Nate's attention, then pulled the pickup around to park it in the shade of a building. The cowboy was angling in his direction as Chase climbed out of the cab.

“Just came back from checking on the south branch to see how Ike was doing.” Chase explained where he'd been. “I saw some of the calves out of your new bull. They must be twenty pounds heavier than the others.”

“When we find out what kind of mothers those heifers turn out to be, then we'll know if we've got something.” Nate reserved judgment on the worth of the new bull he had advised Chase to buy, but he stood a little straighter at the implied praise.

“Where are you heading?”

“Ownie was going to top off that grulla today. It's
one of old Cougar's four-year-old colts. I've had my eye on that horse since he was two. That mouse-colored horse has cow savvy. I see it every time I look at him.” There is nothing a cowboy appreciates more than a good cow pony. “I wanted to check and see how he acted with a rider. I'll bet he tears holes in the sky.”

“Let's go see.” Chase walked with his old teacher and foreman to the corrals where the young horses were kept.

Each spring, the young horses were brought in off the range to be haltered and handled and get accustomed to saddles and bits between their teeth. No rider climbed on them until they were four years old. They arrived at the corral in time to see the horse wrangler take a spill in the dirt, and Chase got his first good look at the horse that had captured an old cowman's eye. The dark gray horse was a well-muscled animal, but with a lean and rangy build, like its sire. Its legs, mane, and tail were black, with a white blaze on its face. Chase saw all that as the riderless horse circled the corral at a lope while its rider picked himself off the ground. A helper rode alongside the grulla and reached down to catch the trailing rope rein. Farther down the corral fence, he also saw Ty sitting on the rail. His mouth thinned in a grim line of displeasure.

“I thought he was supposed to be cleaning the stables.” He glanced at Nate to confirm that Ty had been assigned to that task. Since he'd been at the ranch, his work had all been on the ground, from cleaning barns to the windmill crews, to painting, wherever unskilled labor was needed. The only time he'd been on a horse was when Chase had sent him out to see a roundup the day Maggie had arrived.

“He's all finished for the day.” Nate looked down the way with a half-smile on his weathered face. “That boy works like somebody set a fire under him so he can get done early and come down here to watch them break
the young horses. He's no slacker. He gets his work done before he sits on that fence.”

Assured that Ty wasn't loafing, Chase moved down the corral fence to where his son was watching. “That's a good-looking four-year-old,” he said.

“Yeah, it's one of Cougar's,” Ty replied automatically. Then he realized it was his father and hastened to explain, “I'm all through for today.”

“I know,” Chase said in a tone that sounded all-knowing.

Ty looked back to the corral, his expression growing wistful. “I sure wish I could ride that horse. You know I'm a good rider, Dad. And I've helped break in green horses before when we lived in California.”

“Do you want me to ask Ownie if you can ride him?”

Everything in Ty's eager gaze said “yes,” but he sighed a dejected, “No.”

Chase turned and called out to the horse wrangler, walking to the center of the corral, where the horse had been led. “Hey, Ownie! There's a boy here who thinks he can ride that horse. Do you want to give him a try?”

The short, wiry man glanced at Ty, who had been a steady spectator for days. He knew Chase was leaving the decision to his judgment, based on the horse and Ty's inexperience.

“Sure. Why not?” he shrugged, and Ty leaped off the fence.

Chase was quick to notice that Nate had crawled into the corral. It was the old cowboy who was standing at the gelding's head to ear him while Ty climbed into the saddle. The wrangler, Ownie Timms, ambled over to the fence where Chase was standing and watched Ty settle deep into the saddle and get a good grip on the rope reins.

“The Mouse is a good honest horse, bucks straight with no meanness,” the wrangler told Chase. “But he's
young and strong, got a way of twisting and jumping out from under ya sideways.”

“We might as well see what he can do,” Chase said, and both knew he wasn't talking about the horse.

At a nod from Ty, Nate let go of the horse's ear and stepped aside. The grulla went straight up in the air and down with a jar, then went sun-fishing across the corral, turning its belly to the sky. When the horse lunged sideways, Ty lost a stirrup, and horse and rider parted company on the next jump. Chase watched Ty hit the ground and roll automatically, then looked away.

Shaken and bruised, but unhurt, Ty lay on the ground for a minute, shaking his head and waiting for someone to ask if he was okay, but when he looked around, no one was paying any attention to him, not even his father. He got up, brushing himself off, and looked up to see Nate leading the horse to him. Nothing was said. It was presumed he would get back on, so he did. The second time he was bucked off, it was harder to get back on. The third time he didn't think he could make it. Badly bruised, his knee throbbing, Ty glanced at his father, but Buck Haskell had just ridden up and his father was talking to him. Gritting his teeth, Ty limped to the horse Nate was petting and soothing. He waited until Nate had a hold of an ear, then hauled himself into the saddle, every muscle screaming. He caught a glint of admiration in the old cowboy's eye. Suddenly all the pain seemed worthwhile. Then all hell was breaking loose again as Nate let go.

Nate trotted stiffly out of the way and angled for the fence where Chase watched. “The boy's got try.” That was the highest compliment that could be given.

Chase smiled. “Maybe we could put him on a horse for the rest of the year and teach him about cows.” He glanced up at Buck, who was sitting in a relaxed slouch
over the saddle horn, his hat tipped to the back of his curly blond head. “Have you got somebody in your crew who can keep an eye on him and show him the ropes?” All the while he kept one eye on Ty. This time he seemed to be glued in the saddle, ready for every one of the grulla's tricks.

“Dave is good with kids. I'll keep an eye on him, too,” Buck promised.

“We'll start him next week.” Chase noticed the mouse-colored horse was only crow-hopping now. “How's everything going?” It was a general question addressed to Buck.

“Fine. Had a kind of freak accident the other day. Lost a calf out on the butte. Got tangled up in a strand of barbed wire.” Buck straightened in the saddle, adjusting his hat onto his forehead. “The boy's got a good seat. Talk to you later, Chase.”

“Right.”

“I heard about that calf,” Nate said after Buck had ridden away. “Burt found it four days ago. Calf hadn't even stiffened up yet.”

“Oh?” There was a point to this information; Chase could tell by the tone of the man's voice. He remembered he had planned to ride out to the butte with Buck four days ago.

“Yeah. It was kind of funny business,” Nate said. “That strand of barbed wire was wrapped around the calf's neck. The theory is it got tangled in it, and when it tried to get loose, it twisted the wire tighter.”

“Is that right?” But the words gave Chase an eerie chill for all his outward show of calm. He was almost prepared for Nate's next statement.