Читать книгу Caitlyn's Prize - Linda Warren - Страница 14

“CAITLYN, WHERE ARE YOU? I can’t traipse all over the house looking for you. I’m too old for this. You have a visitor, so get your butt out here.”

Etta’s annoyed voice snapped Caitlyn out of her malaise. She hurried to the door and yanked it open, finding the housekeeper there with a wooden spoon in her hand.

As a kid, Cait had often felt the sting of that spoon on her legs, mostly for doing something she’d been told not to. She had a feeling Etta wanted to swat her with it now.

“What is it?”

“You have a visitor. He’s in the parlor.”

“He, who?”

“Mr. Calhoun.”

Oh great, just what she needed. Two encounters with the man in one day. What did he want now? Her blood?

Etta leaned in and whispered, “What’s he doing here?” Those faded brown eyes demanded an answer. Gran’s faculties might be faulty, but Etta’s were not. Cait knew she couldn’t slip anything past her.

“I’m not sure. I’ll go see.”

Etta’s bony fingers wrapped around her forearm, stopping her. “Don’t lie to me, girl.”

“High Five’s in trouble. I’ll explain later.”

“Fine.” She released her hold. “Did you check on Miss Dorie?”

“Yes. She’s digging clothes out of the trunk and reliving happier times.”

“Lordy, Lordy, is she ever gonna snap out of it?”

“We just have to be patient and gentle with her.”

“Yeah.” Etta glanced toward the parlor. “What are you waiting for?”

Cait smiled briefly. “Maybe a shot of courage.”

Etta held up the spoon. “Will this help?”

“You bet.”

Moments later, Caitlyn walked into the room, her boots dragging on the hardwood floor. The parlor looked the same as it had in the seventies, with velvet drapes and heavy antique furniture. Judd stood in the middle of the room on an Oriental rug that had seen better days. He held his hat in his hand, along with more blasted papers.

Oh, yes, a gentleman always removed his hat in the company of a lady. Judd had always had impeccable manners. Too bad they didn’t come with real emotion, real feelings.

“What is it, Judd?” She stood a good twelve feet away, but still felt the power of his presence. Her lungs squeezed tight and a feeling from her past surfaced. She was nineteen, young and in—oops…The four-letter word wasn’t in her vocabulary anymore. She’d replaced it with one that would scorch his ears.

“You left in such a hurry you forgot your copy of the sale of the royalties and your father’s codicil to his will. You might need them to show your sisters.” Judd held the papers toward her.

She crossed her arms and made no move to take them. “You could have sent someone with them. Brenda Sue goes right by here on her way home. Why are you here?”

Her direct question didn’t faze him. He laid the papers on an end table by the settee. Cait noticed the film of dust there. Damn! Etta’s eyes weren’t the best anymore and Cait didn’t have time for housework. She had a ranch to run. And what did she care if Judd saw their home wasn’t immaculate.

“I had a reason for coming,” he said, jolting her out of her thoughts.

“What would that be?”

His eyes caught and held hers. She wanted to look away but couldn’t. “I wanted to urge you once again to sell now and get it over with.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t think I can run this ranch successfully without the royalties?”

“You haven’t so far.”

“I—”

He held up a hand. “Don’t make this about you and me. Do what’s right for your family.”

“You made this about you and me.” Her voice rose with anger. “You want me to pay for daring to walk away from Judd Calhoun. Maybe even beg. It ain’t happening, mister.”

His lips formed a thin line. “I was harsh this afternoon. A lot of that old resentment came back. Bottom line, Caitlyn, you lived away from here a lot of years. It shouldn’t be a problem to do that again.”

“I lived away because my father didn’t want me here. It wasn’t voluntary.” Despite every effort, she couldn’t keep the hurt out of her voice.

“You made that decision. No one else.”

She stepped closer to him, his woodsy masculine scent doing a number on her senses. “Yes, I did. At the time, you didn’t even care enough to ask why I made that decision.”

He gripped his Stetson so tight he bent the rim. “You wanted me to beg you to stay?”

“No. I wanted to talk. I wanted to have a say in our wedding, our marriage, our life.”

He drew back. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. You planned the wedding.”

“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes. “I was to wear your mother’s wedding dress and the wedding would be at Southern Cross. Soon after, I was to produce babies and heirs, preferably all male.”

He frowned deeply. “My father requested that you wear my mother’s dress and—”

“No. He demanded, and you backed him up.” She cut him off faster than a road hog on the freeway. “I was never asked. Every freaking woman on the planet dreams of picking out her own damn wedding dress.”

“It’s a little late to be discussing this now.”

“You got it, so take your offer of a sale and stuff it. I have six months and I’m taking every second of that time.”

“Your sisters might have something to say about that.”

“I can handle my sisters.”

He stared at her and she resisted the urge to move away. He was too close, too powerful. But she stood her ground, despite shaky knees and an even shakier disposition.

“You’ve gotten hard, Caitlyn,” he remarked, his eyes roaming over her face. Heat rose in her abdomen and traveled up to bathe her cheeks.

“Really? Your own edges are so hard they’d cut glass,” she retorted.

His eyes met hers then. “That’s what you did to us.” Saying that, he walked out.

She sucked in a breath and an errant tear slipped from her eye. He had to have the last word, and it was effective, engaging all her feminine emotions. Guilt invaded her conscience and that made her mad.

Judd Calhoun would not get to her.

AFTER SUPPER, they sat at the kitchen table and talked about the future. Etta, Rufus and Cooper were all the help Caitlyn had, and they always ate together. Cooper lived in the bunkhouse, and Etta and Rufus’s home was the first log cabin that Caitlyn’s forefathers had built on the property.

Etta took a seat after checking on Gran. Cait had decided not to tell her grandmother until she felt Gran was ready to hear the news.

“How is she?” Cait asked.

“Still playing with those old clothes. Miss Dorie needs to get a grip on reality, but I don’t know how she’s going to handle what’s happening now. Lordy, Lordy.” Etta shook her head. “But I know one thing. I’m not playing Prissy from Gone with the Wind again. Enough is enough.”

“Now you’d make a good Prissy,” Ru said, chewing on a toothpick. “A mite too skinny, though.”

“Now you listen here—”

Caitlyn made a time-out sign. “Take a breather. We have bigger problems than Gran’s make-believe. I’m open for suggestions.”

Coop rested his forearms on the old oak table. “June is a couple of days away and we’ll have plenty of hay to bale. We can keep what we need and sell the rest. And, of course, sell some of the stock.”

Cait took a sip of her tea. “I only want to do that as a last resort. Without cattle we can’t operate this ranch.”

“Don’t worry about my wages, Cait,” Coop said. “I have a place to live, and food. All I need are a few bucks for beer, and gas for my truck.”

“Same goes for Etta and me,” Rufus added.

“I appreciate everyone’s help. My sisters will be here in a few days and we’ll decide what to do.”

“No offense—” Coop swiped a hand through his sandy-blond hair “—but they’re city girls. They don’t know much about ranching.”

“They’re owners of High Five, though, same as me.”

“Yep.” Ru reached for his worn hat. “Things are getting rough around here. I think I’ll mosey over to our place and stretch out for a while.”

“Just wipe your feet before you go in,” Etta told him.

“Woman, don’t be a pain in my ass.”

Cait was in the process of interrupting when there was a loud knock on the back door.

Chance Hardin, Etta and Rufus’s nephew, poked his head in. “Hey, I wondered where everyone was.”

When Etta’s brother and sister-in-law were killed in a car accident, Etta and Rufus had taken in their three boys. Chance was the only one still around High Cotton, and he checked on his aunt and uncle often.

“Chance.” Etta threw herself at him and hugged him tightly.

“Let him go, for heaven sakes,” Ru said. “You’re gonna choke him to death.”

Cait noticed Ru squeezing Chance’s shoulder, too. They were both glad to see him.

Etta drew back, her bony fingers smoothing her nephew’s chambray shirt. “Why didn’t you call and let us know you were coming? We’d have waited supper. Are you hungry? We have plenty.”

“No. I’ve already eaten. I was just passing by and wanted to say hi.”

“Hi, Chance,” Caitlyn said.

“Ah, Cait, the most beautiful woman in High Cotton.”

She grinned. “Yeah. Me and every woman you meet.”

He met her grin with a stellar one of his own. “Damn. Beautiful and smart. Can’t beat that with a sledgehammer.” He turned to Cooper. “Hey, Coop.”

“Chance.” The cowboy shook his hand. “What are you doing these days?”

“Working my butt off for the big oil companies.”

“You still out on the rigs?”

“You bet. Pays good money. We’re drilling over at the McGruder place, about thirty miles from here.”

“I know. I’ve been by the place a few times and saw a lot dump trucks going in and out of there.”

“Yeah. Old man McGruder is smart as a whip. This is the second well we’ve drilled on his property, and he probably has money coming out the wazoo. But now he’s selling sand and gravel off his land.”

“Who buys it, and for what?” Cait asked curiously.

“He sold a lot of sand and gravel to the oil company. They have to have it to build roads to the oil pads, so the big rig and trucks can go in and out without getting stuck. Of course, we had to have water for drilling, so Mr. McGruder got a new water well. They use the pea gravel for drilling, too. He’s also selling sand to a home builder who uses it for the foundation of new houses.”

“Bart did that back in the eighties when things got a little tight,” Rufus said.

“Where?” Cait asked, not remembering that.

“The southwest pasture. We don’t run cattle there.”

“How about some pie?” Etta interrupted.

Caitlyn picked up the leftover chocolate pie from the table and handed it to her. “Go spend some time with Chance. I’ll clean the kitchen.”

“No, I—”

Cait gently nudged them out the door, knowing they wanted to visit.

“I’ll help,” Coop offered.

Within minutes they had the kitchen clean. Cait laid the dish towel over the edge of the sink.

“Are you okay?” the cowboy asked.

She wiped her hands down her faded jeans. “Not really. I don’t know how I’m going to save this ranch. With the oil and gas royalties, I was able to rebuild the herd Dad had sold. We were just getting to a point were we might show a profit. But if we have to sell off cows that won’t happen.”

“A calf crop will be ready to market in June. That will help.”

“Yeah, but it won’t be enough to see us through a dry summer.” She massaged her temples. “It’s a bitch when the past comes back and bites you in the butt.”

Coop leaned against the cabinet. “How much gambling money did your dad owe?”

Cait dropped her hands. “I didn’t ask.” And she should have. Where was her brain? Going down guilt avenue at full throttle. Damn it. That should have been her first question. But her senses were too busy remembering what it was like to be in love with Judd.

“Those people are not pleasant when they don’t get their money.”

“Judd mentioned that.”

“Maybe Judd was the only solution for Dane, for High Five.”

She pointed a finger at Cooper. “Oh, please. Don’t you dare go over to his side.”

“I’m not, but you know how your father was. He never had a spending limit.”

“I know.” She stretched her shoulders, wishing she could close her eyes and the nightmare would go away.

“I saw Judd’s truck here this afternoon.”

“Yeah. He was doing what he does best, pressuring me to sell.”

There was silence for a moment.

“I wasn’t here all those years ago when you broke the engagement, but I assume you had a good reason.”

Cait thought about that. Would a man understand? Cooper was her best friend. She told him a lot of things, but sharing her feelings about Judd wasn’t on the table.

“Okay, that’s a little personal, and I don’t do personal,” Coop said quickly. “Think I’ll head to the bunkhouse and nurse a beer.”

“Think I’ll head to the study and nurse a gigantic headache named Judd Calhoun.”

Coop smiled. “See you in the morning.”

Caitlyn walked upstairs to check on Gran. She was curled up on a chaise longue, asleep in a dress from the forties, with her long white hair cascading over her shoulder.

Kissing her wrinkled cheek, Cait whispered, “Dream on, Gran.” With a sigh, she sank down to the floor beside her. Resting her head on her grandmother’s hand, she picked up a high-necked dress from the thirties.

So many people depended on her: Gran, her sisters, Etta, Rufus and Cooper. What would they do if High Five was sold?

Judd had her by…What was it that guys said? By the short hairs? All she knew was that Judd had her where it hurt. Bad.

She fingered the dress, which smelled of mothballs, willing herself to come up with a way to get the money she needed to save her home.

Wait a minute. She sat up straight and threw the dress into the trunk. Why hadn’t she thought of it before?