Calder Born, Calder Bred

by Janet Dailey

  “Ty, are you drunk?” Dyson sounded almost amused.

  “No, sir, not yet.” But the urge was there to let the alcohol blot out all of his confusion. “Tell her I called.” He felt a curl of anger because she hadn’t been there. It put a stiffness in him as he hung up the phone.

  9

  Using a straw, Jessy stirred the ice in her Coke glass. Her glance often strayed to the pool table where Ty stood, a cue stick in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other. Somehow he managed to hold on to both, even when it was his turn to shoot, and usually there was a cigarette dangling from his mouth at the same time, making him squint one-eyed to aim through the smoke.

  His long, muscled legs were unsteady under him. There was a barely controlled lurch and stagger to his movements. Jessy had no idea how many of those long-necked bottles of beer he’d downed, but he was on his way to becoming rip-roaring drunk. His laugh was loud, and so was his voice, yet the thin edge of anger seemed to run through him. She felt a surge of impatience and disgust at his behavior, although she ignored the cowboys with him who were in the same inebriated state.

  Bending her head, she sipped the watery Coke through the straw. Leroy Andersen used the tabletop for a drum, beating his fingers in time with the music from the jukebox, his shoulders swaying in tempo. Jessy had given up trying to keep a conversation going with him, tiring of competing with the music for his attention. His beating fingers made a final slap to finish with the song.

  “That was some rhythm, huh?” He rubbed his hands on his thighs and looked to her for agreement.

  She smiled back wanly but didn’t answer. Personally, she didn’t like the song, but she hadn’t liked any of the songs Leroy had selected.

  “Wanta go pick out some more songs?” he suggested.

  “Why not?” The choices of entertainment were limited, since Leroy didn’t talk and, despite all that rhythm, couldn’t dance. All her girlfriends made such a thing about having a date on Saturday night, as if it were some special honor, regardless of which boy did the asking. Peer pressure made her think there was something wrong with her if she didn’t accept an invitation just on principle. But invariably, Jessy was bored. She had more fun when she double-dated or went with a group.

  The jukebox continued playing preselections while Leroy tapped out the drumbeat on the glass front. Jessy wasn’t sure why she was even looking at the record choices. They hadn’t been changed all summer.

  “Hey! Bring me another beer!” It was Ty who shouted the order, and Jessy turned. He was passing the pool stick to another player when he spied her at the jukebox. The record changed and the song “Cotton-eyed Joe” came over the speakers.

  “How about this one?” Leroy asked and she looked to see which one he’d picked, already certain she wouldn’t like it.

  An arm hooked her around the stomach and hauled her sideways. Her breath came rushing into her lungs in stunned surprise. Ty smiled lazily down at her with that taunting gleam in his half-glazed eyes. Her hip was clamped to his thigh while her shoulder and arm were awkwardly trapped against his chest. She felt her heart knocking crazily against her ribs.

  “I ain’t seen you dancing once all night, Jessy.” His husky voice had a faint slur to it. “Let’s see if you’re as good on a dance floor as you are on a horse.”

  “Ty Calder, you’re drunk,” she accused.

  “I ask you to dance”—he frowned irritably—“not give me a lecture.” Then he looked past her to smile with benign contempt at her date. “You don’t mind, do you, Andersen?”

  “I don’t mind, Mr. Calder.”

  “Did you hear that?” A dark eyebrow was arched unnaturally high into his sun-browned forehead as he looked again at Jessy. “Mister Calder has permission from your date to dance with you.” His head made a wobbly nod of mock formality.

  “All right, we’ll dance,” she agreed. “If you can stand up that long.”

  She was loosened from his hold so they could move single file the few steps to the small cleared dancing area. When Jessy turned to face him, his circling arm once again brought her tightly against his body. Their hips were nearly joining as she straddled his thigh so there would be some place to put her feet without stepping on his boots. The contact signaled his every movement in advance, making it easy for Jessy to follow his lead, but the closeness that let her feel every ripple of his muscles was disturbing.

  In the first few turns around the small area, he seemed to make a concentrated effort to coordinate his feet in the right pattern. Jessy was beginning to wonder if Ty was as drunk as she’d first thought. Then his concentration broke and he stumbled.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, then nearly stepped on her toe.

  His hold on her tightened, and Jessy realized he was relying on her balance. His hat was pulled low on his forehead, shading his features so they wouldn’t show his struggle for a moment’s sobriety.

  “Maybe I should lead and you follow,” she suggested.

  Ty stiffened. “I’ll be damned if I’ll let you lead.” He started whirling her around the dance floor, hardly letting her feet touch the floor.

  When the song finally ended, he stopped and let her go. Swaying unsteadily, he swept off his hat and tried to make a mock bow, but he staggered sideways. Jessy grabbed for him and helped him into a chair someone slid to them.

  “Whew!” He tried to appear out of breath, but she suspected the room was spinning on him. “I need another beer.”

  “You’ve had enough,” she stated.

  “You’re right,” Ty agreed with her unexpectedly and stood up, but he made sure he held on to the chair back. “It’s late. I gotta be gettin’ home.” He began groping in his pockets. “Where’s the keys?” Then he shouted to the room, “Anybody seen my keys?”

  “You’re in no condition to drive home,” Jessy announced while he swayed.

  “I left them in the truck,” he remembered and turned to lurch toward the door.

  Someone grabbed him before he stumbled into a table, and Jessy darted forward to drape his arm over her shoulder and steer him in the right direction.

  “Jessy, where’re you going?” Leroy appeared at her side, frowning as he walked to keep up with her.

  “Ty’s too drunk to drive home. His truck is outside, so I’ll take him back. It’s late anyway.” She struggled under his weight as he relied more on her than his unsteady legs.

  “D’ya want me to come with you?” Leroy wasn’t sure what he should do.

  “There’s no need of you following us all the way to the ranch, then have to drive home.” Actually she was relieved to have a premature end to the date.

  With the help of a couple other Triple C riders, Jessy was able to maneuver Ty into the cab of the truck. He protested when she slid behind the wheel, insisting he could drive, but she ignored him.

  “You think I’m drunk, don’t ya?” His words were slurred. When he tried to stare her down, her image started blurring as if it were trying to separate into two. Ty wasn’t sure, but he didn’t think she was even looking at him. “Well, I am,” he informed her proudly and grabbed for the support of the door when the truck accelerated in a swinging turn onto the two-lane. “I’m a Calder, ya know.” He braced himself for further unexpected turns that didn’t come. “And a Calder always does what he sets out to do.” He attempted to enunciate the words clearly. “Tonight, I set out to get drunk—and I did it.”

  “You certainly did,” Jessy murmured.

  His head felt large and heavy, its weight more than his neck could support. Ty slumped lower to lean his head on the seat back. His hat was pushed farther forward, angling down over his eyes.

  The headlight beams tracked the rough pavement ahead of the truck, illuminating the high grass and weeds that choked the shoulder. Everything else was blackness. Ty stared into the edges of the scrubby growth, but it rushed by too quickly for him to focus on it.

  All night long he’d put on a jocular show of good humor to conceal his anger, but no
w the show was ending. His tongue tasted acrid. Things were supposed to be so fine and so right, but not even his parents were happy. A dull rage rammed through him when he thought about his father, always so damned honorable and preaching his damned code. Everyone was supposed to live by it but him.

  Drunkenly Ty cranked the side window down and let the outside air rush into the cab, then slumped back against the seat. After the first sweet smell of freshness, it was the pressure of the wind driving against him that he felt, never letting up, never giving him a rest. He was tired of always facing it, never turning aside for an instant for fear it would be interpreted as a sign of weakness.

  The pickup slowed and made the turn into the east portal of the ranch. His groggy mind was slow to react to what his eyes saw. They were well past the simple gate before Ty realized where they were.

  “Pull over.” He had to make a couple of trys before he was able to sit more erectly in the seat. The truck’s rate of speed didn’t change. “I said pull over,” he repeated the order.

  “I can’t stop in the middle of the road,” Jessy explained. “You’ll have to wait until there’s room on the shoulder so we can pull off.”

  “I want you to pull over now!” He grabbed the wheel to turn it himself.

  The truck swerved sharply for the ditch, the sudden motion throwing him away from the wheel. Jessy was able to wrench it back just in time, her heart catapulting into her throat before the headlights veered away from the yawning black hollow alongside the road. When he made a second grab for the steering wheel, she angrily shoved him away.

  “You’re going to get us killed.” She was forced to slow the truck in order to keep control of it. “If you’re going to be sick, just hang your head out the window.”

  “No. You stop this truck so I can get out.” Ty groped for the ignition keys.

  “All right. All right!” She was furious at his foolish and dangerous behavior as she pushed her foot on the brake pedal and the pickup skidded to a halt. “There, it’s stopped.” He was already turning and awkwardly searching for the door handle. Jessy gripped the steering wheel with both hands, flexing them while she tried to control the anger that had come from being frightened. She watched him lurch out of the truck. “I should just leave you here,” she muttered. “The walk home just might sober you up.”

  But her threat went unnoticed as Ty weaved into the darkness, stumbling down the ditch and making a couple of tries to climb out of it before he succeeded. Jessy kept an eye on his black silhouette as he melded with the dark night. At first, she thought he was seeking the privacy of the darkness to urinate. Then she saw him stop and look around in a lost way.

  When he lurched forward to walk farther from the road, she started losing him from sight. Hurriedly, she climbed out of the pickup to follow him. As drunk as he was, there was no telling what kind of crazy notion he had. If he slipped or fell somewhere out there, she’d have hell’s own time trying to find him.

  Thirty yards from the road, he stopped again, and Jessy paused, not far behind him. She’d left the truck lights on, their long beams shining out at right angles some distance behind her, but their light did her no good. She was surrounded by varying shades of blackness. The low, irregular line of hills in the distance thrust into the falling midnight sky, dusted with stars and lit with the silver horns of a new moon. Jessy was close enough to Ty that his dark shape was clearly outlined.

  His arms were away from his sides, partially lifted in a supplicant gesture that was negated by the clenched fists of his hands. His stance was rigid, vaguely challenging, with his feet apart and his head thrown back.

  “You’re a lonely, stinking land!” The hoarse cry of anger came from some anguished depths of him. “A dream. That’s what I thought I had.” His drunken laughter was an awful sound. “It’s been a nightmare from the start. You fool a man—make him see things that aren’t there. You let him think there’s just one more hill. You lead him on! You let him think it’ll get better!” His voice fell. “And it gets worse. You twist a man until he keeps settling for less each time.”

  His legs slowly buckled under him as he sank to the ground, his head hanging in dejection. Jessy hesitated, moved by the gut-wrenching outpour of frustration and anger she’d witnessed. She knew that Ty hadn’t wanted anyone to hear him. She waited until she was sure his silence would be lasting, then slowly made her way to him. He was sitting back on his haunches, his shoulders slumped and his head down. When she touched his shoulder, he looked up with a dazed glance.

  “Come on, Ty.” She was gentle with him as she bent down to help him to his feet. “I’ll take you home.”

  “Do you know where it is?” he asked and struggled upright with her assistance. He draped an arm across the back of her shoulders while she kept a supporting arm around his middle and guided him toward the lights of the truck. A wide smile split his features; then he chuckled, amused by some thought. “I always wanted to be like him,” Ty announced as he glanced down at Jessy, not really sure who she was. “Did I ever tell you that?” The irony in his voice bothered her.

  “No.” Jessy supposed he was talking about his father, but she didn’t really understand what it was all about.

  When they reached the pickup, she opened the passenger door to help him inside. His foot made several passes at the running board before he finally managed to find it and haul himself into the cab with Jessy giving him a boost and shutting the door.

  The effort seemed to expend all his energies. He was slumped in the corner when Jessy climbed into the driver’s side. The noise of the motor starting roused him briefly.

  “Damn, but I’m tired,” he mumbled and settled his long body deeper in the corner between the seat and the door.

  A quarter of a mile down the road, Jessy heard the deep sawing of his breath in sleep. She drove slowly over the rough patches in the ranch road so his sleep would be as undisturbed as possible. She attempted to convince herself that she was merely letting him sleep off some of his drunkenness before she got him home, but her earlier irritation with his besotted state had evolved into a tender concern. His dependence on her had stirred up those old dreams she’d had about him. They were still fresh. And if tonight he had let her down by not behaving in the manner of a strong, stalwart hero, he had shown himself to be human and therefore more reachable.

  College hadn’t changed him as much as she’d thought. It was true that he talked better than most of the cowboys—when he was sober—but deep inside, Ty was the same lonely young man she had once idealized.

  One light was gleaming from the windows of The Homestead when she stopped the truck in front of the steps to its long colonnaded porch. It laid an irregular pattern of light onto the wooden planked floor. As she switched off the engine, Jessy glanced at Ty, but the cessation of movement and noise had not altered the deep rhythm of his breathing.

  She slid nearer to nudge him awake. But he didn’t stir under the prod of her hand. She gave his shoulder a little shake which produced a grunted protest.

  “Wake up, Ty.” Jessy used firmer tactics, grabbing his shoulders and attempting to pull him out of his comfortable corner. “Come on. We’re home.”

  He was a deadweight, but she did succeed in rousing him. Ty stirred, mumbling unintelligibly and trying to snuggle back into his corner. Jessy persisted, moving closer to get a better leverage.

  “Sit up, Ty,” she ordered patiently and managed to tug him away from the door. “Come on, so I can help you into the house.”

  His head lolled as he tried to come awake and discover his surroundings. His hat was pulled so low he had to tip his head back to see.

  “Where are we?” he asked thickly.

  “We’re home.” She continued to use the plural the way an adult often does with a child.

  The sound of her voice seemed to penetrate his consciousness for the first time, and Ty swung his head around to look at her. The high illumination of the yard light did not reach inside the cab of the truc
k, and the exterior light cast even darker shadows inside. Between the dimness and his own blurring vision, Ty couldn’t clearly see the face of the girl with him. There was a vague impression of dark hair and the sheen of a curved cheek. He started to smile.

  Satisfied that he was finally awake, or as awake as he’d ever be in his condition, Jessy started to shift away from him so she could climb out the driver’s side and come around to help him out of the truck. “You stay here,” she ordered. “I’ll be right back.”

  “No.” His hand grabbed her forearm, his fingers biting into it with careless pressure. “Don’t go. You might not come back.”

  “Of course I will,” Jessy chided him and twisted her arm to release it from his painful grip.

  Instead of loosening his hold, he tightened it. “No.” Determination hardened his mouth as he refused to let her go. His arm went around her, contracting like an iron band to gather her hard against his shoulder and chest. Jessy’s resistance was tempered by confusion. He was clutching her to him the way a child possessively hugs a toy that had been lost. His face was burrowed into her hair.

  “Don’t leave me,” he murmured in an aching voice that stirred her. “I need you. I always have.”

  “Ty.” Jessy was stunned, an incredulous thrill running through her. She could hardly believe what she was hearing.

  When he lifted his head, her face was shadowed by his hat, but he picked out the gleam of white teeth. She was smiling, but he couldn’t tell whether it was to taunt him or welcome him. His intoxication lowered the barrier that usually kept emotion from showing in his expression.

  Her breath caught, lodging in her throat, at the stark need she saw in his face. It was not another cruel joke he was playing on her. He meant it. Her hand trembled as Jessy reached up to trace the ridged angle of his jaw, made bronze by the reflected glow of the outside light.