This Calder Sky (51 page)

“If you know anything about this, Tucker, and I find out you do, you're through,” Chase warned, but he half-believed what the man said. The hardest cases were often easy pushovers where women were concerned, able to bash a man's brains out without blinking an eye, yet helpless as a newborn kitten when confronted with a woman's tears.

“I told you what I know.”

Chase took another swallow of coffee and emptied the mug in the sink, flicking the cigar ash down the drain. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“You just treat Maggie right, or the next time your cup will be laced with arsenic. I always keep some handy in case a rat turns up.”

“I'll remember that.” Chase was half-smiling to
himself when he walked out. It seemed Maggie had no lack of knight errants eager to save her from him. Didn't any of them realize how much he loved that woman?

The thought of her directed his footsteps to The Homestead. The house was silent when he entered it, except for the sound of an electric mixer running in the kitchen. He walked through, expecting to find Maggie busy with preparations for the evening meal, but Ruth was there alone.

“Where's Maggie?”

“She's upstairs lying down for a while. A headache.”

Chase didn't wait to hear more, leaving the kitchen and crossing the living room to climb the steps two at a time. At first glance, the bedroom appeared empty; then he saw her standing at the far window. She had turned when he entered, and the strain of the day's events showed in her green eyes.

“Ruth said you were lying down.” He paused a moment to close the door before walking toward her.

“I told her I had a headache. I wanted to get away by myself so I could think.” Her glance was pulled to the window, then rushed back to him. “You believe Culley did it, don't you?”

He stopped, searching her eyes. “Don't you?”

She turned away from him to stare out the window and rub her elbows in the palms of her hands. “I can't imagine Culley doing it. I can't believe my brother would hang … anything. Culley isn't like that.”

“Maybe he
wasn't
like that.” He walked up behind her, his hands caressing the soft points of her shoulders. “You were gone a long time, Maggie. You don't know what kind of a man he's become.”

“He's still my brother.” A chill ran down her spine. “Chase, what are you going to do?”

He turned her around, his hands sliding down her
back to fold her into his arms. “I'm going to hold onto you, Maggie. I'm going to hold onto what we've got.”

That wasn't what she meant, but it ceased to matter. As long as his arms were around her and his mouth was covering hers, she could forget the rest for now.

In her sleep, Maggie reached out for Chase, but her hand encountered empty space where he should have been lying. She was instantly awake, her eyes searching the night-darkened bed. It was empty. Then she caught the pungent aroma of cigar smoke. Her head turned on the pillow.

The cinnamon armchair had been turned to face the window. Chase was lounging in it, his bare feet propped up on the windowsill. He was partially in the shadows, but the glow of his cigar laid its dark yellow light along his face. In this faint light, his cheeks were flat and ridged beneath the covering of tanned skin.

She was content just to look at him. She had never felt so close to him, so much a part of him than she had that evening. Instead of undermining their love, the incident with the stallion had brought them closer together. Yes, their bodies had joined in lovemaking, but it had gone beyond that, their silences joining, each of their voices speaking the other's thoughts.

Yet he had not slept. She sensed he was pulling away
from her. His mind was tracking through their problems alone without her. He was leaving her out, not letting her be a part of it. She couldn't allow it.

“Chase, what are you thinking about?”

“Nothing important,” he replied. “Go back to sleep. I'll be coming to bed shortly.”

Instead, Maggie pushed back the covers and slipped out of bed. The moonlight cast a satin sheen over the whiteness of her naked skin as she crossed to his chair. “You're thinking about the stallion.”

There was an indulgent curve to his mouth as he cupped his palm over her hipbone and applied pressure to sit her on the armrest of his chair. “You don't obey orders very well,” he mocked and stubbed out his cigar. “I told you to go back to sleep.”

“Why didn't you want me to find out about the stallion getting hanged? You weren't going to tell me,” Maggie accused. “That's why you ordered me to stay at the house this morning.”

“Is it wrong to want to spare you that unpleasantness?” His arm curved into a hook to pull her onto his lap. The hard flesh of his body was warm against her bare skin. His hands wandered over her ripe curves, deliberately attempting to distract her.

“You didn't want to spare me—not as much as you wanted to keep me from finding out about it,” she guessed and sensed his hesitation. It increased her suspicions. “What else have you tried to spare me, Chase? I know about the replica of the noose, now the stallion. There's been something else, hasn't there? And you didn't tell me.”

His finger absently traced a circle on her throat as his gaze darkened. For a moment, she thought he was going to continue to deny it. “A calf was found strangled almost two weeks ago,” he admitted. “Now, are you glad I told you?”

She had wanted to be wrong—she had hoped there had been no other incident like this morning's. “No.” Her voice was husky with regret. “What are you going to do?”

“I have to stop him.” There was a grim impatience within his words, a reluctance to voice the answer.

“By ‘him,' you mean my brother.” She said it stiffly.

“Yes, I mean your brother.” Chase didn't hedge. His tone was firm and decisive. “So far his victims have been animals, but he's sick. I'm not going to wait to find out what his next move will be. I won't risk it.”

That part she wouldn't argue with, since she understood the potential for danger, but that wasn't the source of her uncertainty. She lifted her gaze to search his eyes. “How do you intend to stop him, Chase?” She knew the power he wielded. He had taken his father's place.

He weighed her words, holding her look. “I'll handle it
my
way, Maggie.” The slight emphasis excluded her from his action. Bending his head, he moved to nuzzle the lobe of her ear. “You'll have to trust me.”

But she wouldn't be distracted and cupped his face in her hands to hold it away. “No, Chase, that isn't good enough. I'm not some dutiful Western wife who is willing to leave such matters to the menfolk. I'm not the kind to putter around the kitchen while you decide the important things without consulting me. If that's what you wanted, you shouldn't have married me. This problem involves me. I'm your wife and his sister. That gives me the right to know your plans. Don't shut me out.”

“It isn't my intention to shut you out.” He took the hand cupping his cheek and pressed a kiss into its palm. She ran her fingers lightly over his lips, tracing their masculine outline.

“He's my brother, Chase. I know something has to
be done, but I don't want him hurt.” The ache of frustration surfaced. “Culley won't listen to reason. I know. I've tried.”

He saw the memory that was in her eyes, the range justice his father had imposed to bring an end to the cattle-rustling. He kissed the gold band on her finger. “I would never do anything that might turn you against me. You have my word on that, Maggie.” But he wasn't going to involve her in his plans for Culley. Chase knew her well enough to know she would insist on accompanying him, and he could not be sure her presence would not have an inhibiting effect. Men tended to be more reserved, restrained, when a woman was present, expressing themselves less freely.

A slow smile spread across his mouth. “Now that I've satisfied your mind on that score, let's turn our attention to something else. Because it's becoming very difficult to concentrate with a naked woman on my lap.” He bent his head to roll a rose-crested nipple in his mouth and felt it harden.

“But you haven't told me what you intend to do,” she said in a vague protest as a response trembled through her.

“I intend”—his hand slid between her thighs—“to make love to you for the rest of my life.” Then his mouth was on hers, smothering her moan of pleasure.

The next morning, Chase shut the door to the den while he made his phone calls, then left The Homestead in search of Nate Moore. He found him at the commissary, gasing up his truck.

“I want you, Ike, and Slim to meet me at the north gate at two o'clock this afternoon.” His choice of men had been deliberate. All had accompanied his father when he'd paid a visit to the O'Rourke ranch.

“What's up?” The shrewd pair of blue eyes showed he had already guessed.

“We're going to return the rope to the person who left it around the buckskin's neck,” Chase stated. “I don't want word getting back to Maggie about where I am this afternoon, so keep it quiet.”

Uncertainty flickered in the old cowboy's expression. “Chase, I stood by your pa, but—”

There was no warmth in the smile that curved his mouth. It was cold and grim. “I know what I'm doing, Nate. Are you coming with me?”

“Hell, I wet-nursed you since you were old enough to rope your first calf. Of course I'm coming with you.” Nate was offended that Chase would suggest he wasn't going to back up his play. “I was just wondering what you had up your sleeve.”

“You'll find out. Just don't be surprised by anything I say.”

“You can count on me—on all of us,” Nate promised.

“I know.” Chase clamped a hand on the man's shoulder, then moved away.

At lunch, Chase idly inquired about Maggie's plans for the afternoon and suggested that she might want to explore the southern end of the ranch on horseback, maneuvering her away from the north side, where he would be meeting the men. Part of him knew it wasn't fair to keep her ignorant of his plans, but it went against his grain to involve her in this. Chase saw it as his problem and his responsibility; therefore, he had to handle it. He couldn't allow someone else to do it for him, let alone a woman, even if she was his wife.

When he slid behind the wheel of a ranch pickup, en route to meet Nate and the others, he saw Buck drive into the ranch yard with a horse trailer in tow. It stopped in front of the first-aid dispensary and veterinary-supply office. He would have probably paid no more attention if he hadn't noticed Ty was a
passenger in the pickup. He drove over to find out what was wrong. When he called out to them, Buck altered his course away from the dispensary door and ambled toward the idling truck with a sauntering gait.

With a glance at Ty, who remained by the parked truck, Chase asked, “Is something wrong? Is he hurt?”

“The kid? No.” Buck shook his head and pushed his hat back on his forehead. “We just came by to pick up some medicine. There's a cancer-eyed cow on the north range that needs some doctoring. I thought I'd show the kid how it was done. That's kind of rough, broken country, so I decided I'd let him get a feel of the lay of the land. He's not familiar with the north section. It'd be terrible if the boss's kid got lost.” Buck grinned.

“That's true,” he agreed with a wry twist to his mouth. “Just make sure he doesn't cross any boundary fences. Keep him on Calder land.” Especially today, he thought, but he kept that to himself.

“Will do.” Buck nodded.

Dismissing him with a one-fingered salute, Chase shifted the truck into forward gear and drove out of the ranch yard.

When the ramshackle buildings of the Shamrock came into view, Chase studied them. He'd heard the place was falling down, but he hadn't expected it to look so ruined and deserted, a place for ghosts to live. Nate edged his horse closer to Chase's mount, indicating with a nod of his head the car parked in the yard overgrown with weeds.

“O'Rourke's got company.” He seemed to expect Chase to stop, half-checking his horse in anticipation.

“Looks that way.” He didn't slow his horse, and the trio of Triple C riders followed him uncertainly, unaware that all was going according to his plan.

When they rode into the yard, Culley stepped out boldly to meet them. He was pathetically thin, his
clothes hanging loosely on his skeletal frame. Green eyes gleamed out of dark sockets, alive with hatred and its accompanying madness. Chase eyed his opponent and knew that he couldn't allow this twisted, malevolent man to be on the loose another day.

“You're trespassing on private property, Calder!” Culley snarled. “I got witnesses.” He indicated the two men standing in the shadows with a sideways gesture of his head, his gaze never leaving Chase. “Turn around and get out.”

Chase looked at the two men. “Sheriff. Doc Barlow.” He acknowledged the presence of the two men by name, without letting it show that he expected to find them there. His stony gaze returned to Culley. Reaching down, he untied the coiled rope with its hangman's noose and held it loosely in his hand for an instant. “I just came by to return something of yours.” He tossed the rope to Culley with a flick of his wrist. It landed in the dust at his feet. “You left it around the neck of a stallion. That was careless of you, Culley. You should take better care of your property.”

“What makes you think that rope is mine?” Culley scoffed. “I never left anything at your place. The only thing you got that belongs to me is my sister. And I don't know nothing about any stallion.”

“Liar.”

The soft, one-word taunt made Culley bristle. For one second, Chase thought the scarecrow figure was going to spring at him and tear him apart with his bare hands. But his entire mood changed with a lightning flash. Culley silently laughed at him with a wide grin.