The Cowboy (31 page)

“See you then,” Trace said as he hit the gas.

Callie turned to Trace and asked, “What was that all about?”

“I promised Dusty and Lou Ann I’d come over for a housewarming party as soon as they got settled. I asked Lou Ann how she felt about having a crowd, and she thought it was a great idea. When I mentioned it to your brother Luke this morning, he said he’d welcome the chance to eat somebody else’s cooking. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“I see,” Callie said, eyeing him askance. Now he was planning her social life. She had to admit it would be pleasant to have a home-cooked meal that wasn’t either burned or something she’d cooked herself. “Since you’re going to keep me occupied this afternoon, eating at Lou Ann’s seems like a good idea. But don’t make any more plans without consulting me first, all right?”

“That’s fine with me. We’ll do our planning together from now on.”

“You’re moving out, Trace. What planning?”

“Planning time for you to rest. Planning time for us to make love. You know, planning.”

Callie laughed. “You’re incorrigible.”

The afternoon with Trace passed in a glorious blur, and before Callie was ready for the interlude to end, they were back at Three Oaks to pick up Luke and Eli.

“Do you want to change before we head over to Dusty and Lou Ann’s?” Trace asked.

Callie looked down at the Western shirt, jeans, and boots that were her constant wardrobe and shook her head. “I don’t know what else I’d wear.”

“Surely you have a dress in your closet.”

“Of course I do.”

“Then why don’t you wear it for me?”

Callie turned to look sharply at Trace. “This isn’t a date.”

“Never said it was. But being a housewarming, it is a party. How about it?”

Callie wondered when she had last shaved her legs. And she was certain she didn’t own a pair of nylons without a run in them. But she did have a flowered sundress and a pair of sandals. “All right,” she said. “Give me fifteen minutes to shower and change.”

Callie found that once she was wearing the flowered sundress, her face looked bare without a little makeup, which she judiciously applied. She pinned her hair up, but it felt too formal, so she tied it in a ponytail with a lilac ribbon. She didn’t realize how different she looked until she saw the gawking stares of her brother and her son.

“What did you do to yourself?” Luke asked. “You look almost pretty.”

Callie laughed. “Thanks. I think.”

“You’re beautiful, Mom,” Eli said loyally.

“Thank you, Eli. You look pretty good yourself.”

Eli looked down at his buttoned-up shirt and belted jeans. “Trace said I had to wear something nice, ’cause it’s a party.”

“I’m looking forward to all that delicious food,” Luke said. His Western shirt was also neatly ironed, with the sleeves rolled down and buttoned at his wrists.

Trace had slicked his black hair back with water, and Callie figured he must have shaved, because his face was free of the shadow of beard that he wore almost constantly. He looked breathtakingly handsome. He held out his arm to her and said, “Well, ma’am. Are you ready to go?”

She linked her arm with his, grinned, and said, “You bet.”

Callie had forgotten what it was like to socialize with other people, to laugh and tell anecdotes about the children and eat until she was so full she was ready to split. She had forgotten the sound of children shrieking with laughter, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had to admonish Hannah and Eli to stop running in the house. She’d forgotten what normal life was like.

“We should do this more often,” Lou Ann said, as she and Dusty stood at the door, their two daughters clinging to their sides, as they sent Callie on her way.

“We should,” Callie agreed, kissing first Lou Ann and then Dusty on the cheek.

Her kids were quiet on the drive home, like balloons from which the air had slowly seeped out. Luke and Eli were belted into the backseat of the cab. Hannah was buckled into the center seat, but she had fallen asleep, and her head lay in Callie’s lap.

Trace reached across the seat and took Callie’s hand. “How are you feeling?”

Alive
. Callie felt her stomach clench and drew her hand free.
And also very guilty
. For having such a wonderful time and never once thinking about everything that needed to be done at Three Oaks.

When she didn’t respond, Trace said, “Don’t you think it’s about time, Callie?”

“Time for what?” she managed to ask.

“For us to be a family,” he said quietly.

Callie swallowed past the aching lump in her throat. “What is it you want from me?” she asked in a voice quiet enough not to carry to the backseat.

“A chance,” he said. “I want another chance.”

T
RACE HAD CAREFULLY CONSIDERED WHEN AND
where—and even whether—to tell Callie about the existence of his cattle station in Australia and his plans to return there. He certainly hadn’t planned to divulge the truth so soon. But in the sweet afterglow of satiating sex, the revelation had come tumbling out, with the one result he’d most feared.

Callie was committed to remaining in Texas to support her family. As far as she was concerned, there was no such thing as a future for the two of them in Texas, let alone on a continent halfway across the world.

Since Callie’s mother and brother Sam had come home from the hospital three weeks ago, Trace hadn’t once asked Callie to meet him at the cabin. He saw the confusion in her eyes when he stopped by the house to ask about her progress with Smart Little Doc, but he could handle that better than the loathing that rolled off Sam, or the perceptive awareness in her mother’s steady gaze.

Trace had hoped that if he made love to Callie, he could get her out of his system. Or perhaps, if things went well enough between them, they might even get back
together. But making love to her had only made him want her more. And even though things had gone well between them, he was ready to concede that the chances were slim to none that they would ever get back together.

Trace knew he ought to cut his losses and get the hell out of Dodge. But he’d come up with a plan that he thought might work to pry Callie loose from Three Oaks.

What if her family no longer needed her help to survive? What if they could manage on their own? Then there would be nothing to stop her from going away with him. Everything depended, of course, on making certain that Callie’s mother and oldest brother pulled their weight.

The problem was, he had no idea what skills either of them had, or whether they would be willing to apply them to keep Three Oaks afloat.

He started with Sam, because he found it less daunting to contend with the hatred of the crippled man than with the quiet understanding of Callie’s mother. The hospital had dried Sam out before they’d sent him home, and as far as Trace knew, he hadn’t had a drink since. But Trace rarely saw him when he visited the rest of the family.

While Callie and the kids were playing Scrabble in the living room one evening, Trace excused himself as though he were going to the bathroom. Instead, he went down the hall and knocked on Sam’s first-floor bedroom door. When there was no answer, he let himself in.

“Get out,” Sam said without turning around.

Trace was surprised to find Sam sitting in front of a computer. On the screen was what looked like accounting information. “What’s that you’re working on?” he asked.

“None of your business.”

“I think maybe it is,” Trace said.

Sam exited the program before turning his wheelchair to face Trace. “What hold do you have over my sister, that she lets you hang around here?”

“I loaned her the money to pay the first installment of your dad’s estate taxes.”

“Sonofabitch! I knew it was something like that.”

“So you see, I do have an interest in keeping Three Oaks up and running. What were you working on?” Trace asked.

Sam perused him through narrowed eyes, then admitted, “I was calculating how much it’s going to cost to feed those quarantined cows until we can sell them.”

“Did you come up with a figure?” Trace asked.

“Too damn much!” Sam replied. “If I could talk face-to-face with Wally Tippet at the feed store, I might be able to get him to cut us a deal on hay. But I’m not sure when Callie can spare the time to drive me into town.”

“Is there some reason why you don’t drive yourself?” Trace asked.

Sam pounded his dead right leg with his fist. “That ought to be obvious.”

“There are vehicles rigged with hand controls for paraplegics.”

“And they’re damned expensive,” Sam shot back.

“Seems to me it would be an economy to buy a vehicle you can drive, if it meant you wouldn’t be hanging around taking up space without earning your keep.”

He saw the quick flush stain Sam’s cheeks.

“Your brother’s the reason I don’t earn my keep,” Sam said sullenly.

“Nobody forced all that alcohol down your throat.
Nobody’s stopping you from shaving yourself or getting a haircut. Nobody’s keeping you from carrying your share of the load around here.”

“I can’t carry a goddamn thing!” Sam said bitterly. “Not with these useless legs.”

“Shut up and listen,” Trace said. “I just spent the past seven years with a man who couldn’t use his legs, and he ran a spread twice the size of Bitter Creek practically by himself. I didn’t hear him moaning about his useless legs. He got up every morning and put on his clothes and went to work. Which is what I suggest you do from now on.”

Sam stared at him in disbelief. “You can’t come in here and start ordering me around.”

“I’ll have a van waiting outside tomorrow morning, along with someone to give you a driving lesson. You can sit in this room the rest of your life and feel sorry for yourself, or you can go to work. The choice is yours.”

Trace turned and walked out, closing the door quietly behind him. A moment later, he heard something crash and splinter against the door. Well, he’d done his best. He’d have to wait until tomorrow to see if it was going to work.

He debated whether to approach Callie’s mother now or wait until later. When he saw that Callie had taken the kids upstairs to put them to bed, he decided it would be better to get this all over with at once.

He found Mrs. Creed in the kitchen making an apple pie—from scratch.

“You can buy those in the frozen-food section already prepared and save yourself a lot of time,” he pointed out.

She looked up and smiled. “I know. But I find it relaxing to peel apples. Would you like to try it?”

“Sure.” Trace took the paring knife she offered and the McIntosh apple she handed him and sat down at the kitchen table.

“I always try to see how much skin I can peel off in one piece,” Mrs. Creed said, as she retrieved another paring knife from a kitchen drawer.

Trace concentrated on what he was doing so completely that he was surprised when he looked up—with the entire red peel removed from the apple in one piece—to find Lauren Creed studying him. He smiled sheepishly and set the peel on the table. “I don’t know about relaxing, but it was certainly engrossing. It made me forget entirely why I came in here.”

“Why did you come in here?” she asked, beginning to peel another apple.

“May I speak frankly, Mrs. Creed?”

“Please call me Ren. And I hope you will.”

“I need your help … Ren. You must have noticed that Callie and I … that I …”

“I’ve noticed,” she said with a smile. “Go on.”

“I’ve seen your belt buckle collection framed above the mantel, the ones you got for winning all those national cutting horse competitions, and I wondered why you stopped riding.”

“I grew up and got married,” she said as she finished peeling one apple and picked up another. “My children had to come first.”

He picked up a second apple and went to work. “But your children are all grown up.”

“Lately, I’ve been busy taking care of my grandchildren.”

“How would you feel about going back to work with
cutting horses?” he asked as he set down another single piece of peel and retrieved another apple from the bowl on the table.

Callie’s mother smiled and began coring and slicing peeled apples. “I think I might enjoy it a great deal.”

“You would?” he said, accidentally slicing through the peel, which fell to the table. “That’s great!”

“It may not make any difference,” she said quietly. “My daughter has a very strong sense of duty.”

“I want her to see that you can manage without her,” Trace said.

“I’m not sure we can,” she replied.

Trace had a queasy feeling in his stomach, like his airplane had just dropped a thousand feet over the Australian desert, and he only had a gallon jug of water with him. “I hope you’re wrong,” he said.

“For my daughter’s sake, I hope so, too. I’d invite you to stay and help me finish up this pie,” Mrs. Creed said, “but I suspect my grandchildren are waiting for you to come upstairs and kiss them good night.”

“I expect so, ma’am.” He’d made it a part of his day to read a story to Hannah at bedtime. He was determined to win Callie’s kids over. He’d grown genuinely fond of the little girl, and although Eli remained prickly, he was making headway with the boy.