by Janet Dailey
“All this land,” she murmured in a marveling tone.
“And we’ve only flown over half of it—not even that.” It was difficult for him to look at it without thinking of the possible wealth lying beneath that grass, waiting to be exploited. It was not the potential for profit that excited him, but the thrilling challenge of putting a project of that magnitude together and making it work. It was the sheer adventure of it, high-stakes gambling at its highest. “The breadth of it is staggering.”
“It is,” she agreed. “And the Calders own every inch of it?”
“Every blessed blade of grass.” Actually there was some question about that, but he intended to keep the information private, even from his daughter. “This land has quite a future ahead of it.”
Leaning away from the window, Tara thoughtfully fingered the high-ruffled collar of her blouse while she gazed out the window at the slow-moving panorama. “It’s funny. You’ve told me about this ranch so many times. And Ty talked about it endlessly. But I still never imagined anything like this.”
“It’s a kingdom, and not so small a one at that.” He smiled dryly. “It’s almost feudally run. I’m serious,” he insisted when his daughter sent him a skeptical look. “Chase Calder is lord of the land. His word is law, make no mistake about that.”
She lowered her hand to her lap, joining it with her other one in an attitude that seemed calm and poised, but her thumb was running over the smooth black opal gem, mounted in a ring. “Was anything ever said to you . . . about the broken engagement?”
“No—beyond Calder mentioning once that he thought you were both too young to be contemplating marriage.”
“Good. I should not like to make things awkward by accompanying you on this visit,” Tara murmured with a faint smile.
“Come, Tara Lee,” E.J. chided her. “I’m not one of your beaus to be taken in by your modesty. You are hoping to make things very awkward. Admit it.”
“Daddy,” she scolded him, then laughed at how easily he read through her. “You’re absolutely right. I only hope that’s the way it turns out.”
“My darling, no one can resist you,” he assured her. “Not even a Calder.”
A hint of satisfaction lay on the curve of her mouth as Tara turned thoughtful and silent. In the last two years, Ty had been frequently on her mind. It had simply been a matter of timing and priorities. It would have been so much easier if Ty had understood that.
Now was the right time and, by all appearances, the right place. She didn’t doubt her ability to win back his affection. The mere fact that she had come to him gave her an advantage.
“How much longer before we land?” She flipped open the compact from her purse and checked her makeup in the small mirror.
“A few minutes.”
The aircraft was sighted as it entered the landing pattern of the private airstrip, and a car was on hand to transport the plane’s passengers to The Homestead. As they approached the pillared front, Dyson murmured an aside to his daughter. “A fitting cowboy castle for a cattle king, don’t you think?”
Beyond an answering smile, there was no time for a comment as the massive front door opened and an elderly woman waited to welcome them. Dyson recognized Ruth Haskell from previous visits and smiled warmly. It was one of his rules of business to be friendly to the help; a man never knew when they might turn out to be an unwitting source of information.
“Ruth, it’s good to see you again. How have you been?” He injected a hearty warmth into his Texas drawl. She murmured a predictable response, and Dyson was struck again by the impression that she was a faded wallflower, no doubt privy to a lot of Calder family secrets. “Tara Lee, I want you to meet Ruth Haskell. This remarkable lady has looked after things here for years. She’s practically a member of the family.”
“I’m afraid neither Chase nor Maggie is home at the moment,” Ruth apologized for their absence and escorted the arriving pair into the house. “It’s spring roundup time, you know, and they took Cathleen out to watch the branding. Word’s been sent that you are here.”
“We happened to fly over that section and noticed the roundup in progress.” He hitched up his trousers and settled onto a rusty velvet chair in the living room, where a new fire crackled in the black marble fireplace. It warded off the gloom of the gray day and the cold rain that had started to fall outside. Tara wandered over to the cheery hearth.
“I’m sure they’ll be here directly,” the woman promised. “Audra should be here soon to prepare your rooms.”
“That won’t be necessary. Unfortunately I have to meet my partner in Calgary late this evening for a business meeting tomorrow morning, so this is going to be just a flying visit,” explained Dyson. “I wasn’t certain we had the time to spare to stop here, or I would have given Chase some warning to expect us this afternoon.”
“You’re always welcome,” Ruth assured him, knowing from past experience it was true, but she slid a hesitant glance at his daughter. “May I bring you some coffee?”
“Please.”
It was another hour before Chase and Maggie arrived at The Homestead. This gave Tara ample time to peruse the living-room furnishings without appearing to be snooping. Several items were unquestionably valuable antiques; others were old, but not quite as precious. Threads were showing in the patterned area rug that covered part of the hardwood floor where the furniture was grouped. The room gave her the distinct impression the clock had been turned back fifty years. It had a degree of charm and worn comfort, but, in her opinion, it could have been much more impressive.
After the greetings, apologies, and explanations were made, a rain-soaked and dirty Cathleen was sent upstairs to her room to wash and change clothes. After it was established that they would be staying for dinner, Tara thought it appropriate to ask about Ty. Neither of the Calders had mentioned him yet, perhaps because they didn’t want to bring up a potentially awkward subject.
“Will Ty be joining us for dinner tonight?” She spoke very casually.
“No.” It was Chase Calder who answered her question, studying her with a bland look that absorbed much more than it revealed. “The roundup crew will be spending the night at the holding grounds.”
“Oh.” She let her disappointment be seen and glanced at the windowpanes, sheeted with a driving downpour. “I thought with this rain they’d quit until it stopped.”
The dryness of his amused smile was repeated in his dark eyes. “Once the roundup starts, it continues, rain or shine, until the last calf is branded.”
“I was hoping to see him while we were here,” Tara admitted and slid a quick look at her father before addressing Ty’s parents again. “I know it must seem very forward of me to want to see him again after breaking our engagement. But Ty never gave me an opportunity to explain my reasons for doing it. I had hoped that now he’d be willing to listen. I regret what happened very much. I made a mistake, and I owe it to him to admit it.”
There was much about the young and very beautiful woman that Maggie admired. She could identify with that strong sense of independence Tara possessed and with her strong will. She had always thought Ty and Tara were ideally suited, but she also knew how deeply Ty had been hurt. The broken engagement was still a subject he wouldn’t discuss.
“It’s a pity you aren’t staying longer.” Maggie was reluctant to comment on Tara’s assertion of remorse.
“Perhaps ...” She hesitated deliberately and glanced at her father, who was shrewdly observing her manipulations with an approving yet completely aloof eye. This was her game, to be played without his help. “If it wouldn’t be too much of an imposition”—she turned an expressively appealing look on Maggie—“I could stay here a couple of days until Daddy and Stricklin finish their business in Calgary. Then I’d have a chance to speak to Ty.” Her boldness in inviting herself to stay at the ranch was a calculated risk. Wisely Tara didn’t press for an immediate answer. Instead, she let her attention come back to her father. “Would you
mind stopping here again on your way back from Canada to pick me up? I know you didn’t plan on it.”
“Naturally I can come this way on the return flight,” he replied. “It won’t be any great inconvenience to me. I think it’s a question of whether the Calders would care to have an uninvited houseguest at such a busy time of the season.”
“I’m sorry.” Tara apologized for being so thoughtless of their work schedule. There was still no reaction from Chase, but she could tell Maggie was weakening. “I’d forgotten how busy you are with the roundup and all. It just seems so awful to be so close and not have the chance to see Ty again.”
“Of course you may stay with us for a few days,” Maggie insisted without consulting Chase. But if she expected him to disagree with her, she was wrong. He thought it was high time that Ty faced this beguiling, beautiful woman and got her out of his system once and for all.
The rain had turned the churned-up ground into a thick gumbo of caking mud that wore down horses and men. The mire sucked at their feet with each step; no foot could ever be sure it was planted firmly. There was many a slip and spill of man and horse in the pursuit of a calf. The mucky conditions slowed down the branding pace considerably as mud-spattered and -smeared men and horses worked harder and accomplished less.
A smug sun sat high in the sky, drying the mud into stiff crusts on man and beast alike. Ty’s mount stumbled tiredly, its head drooping as he walked it to the picket line where a fresh horse from his string was waiting.
“Hey, Calder!” Big Ab Taylor yelled at him. “The big boss wants ya!”
With a certain weariness, Ty lifted a hand in the cowboy’s direction, acknowledging the message. He’d noticed the pickup truck that had arrived a few minutes ago but hadn’t paid any mind to it. He reined his horse toward it, now spurring it into a reluctant jog.
The truck was parked near the motorized cookshack on wheels. His father stood in front of it, a cup of coffee in his hand, his long, husky frame propped against the hood and angled to one side. Checking his horse, Ty brought it to a halt beside the front tire and leaned on the saddle horn, pushing his hat to the back of his head.
“Ab said you wanted to see me.” He could feel the spatters of mud drying on his face; his pantlegs were stiff with kicked-up clods.
“There’s someone here to see you.”
“Who?” His brows puckered together in a curious frown. Visitors were something he didn’t get, and roundup time was a poor time to be calling.
“Tara.”
Ty straightened slowly in the saddle, disbelief ringing through him. A quick search with his eyes found her, sitting on a campstool by the cookshack and watching the scramble of men and animals in the branding arena as if it all had been staged just for her entertainment. She still had that knack of taking possession of her surroundings and making herself at ease.
It took him a second to recover from the shock of seeing her. He swung out of the saddle with the unhurried manner of a man still trying to make up his mind. His spurs made no sound, cushioned with mud to silence their clanking jangle, as he crossed the stretch of ground, methodically pulling off his gloves. His father stayed by the truck, letting his meeting with Tara be a private one.
When she lifted her gaze to observe his approach, she smiled that same provocative, enigmatic smile that had haunted him for so many months of nights. He tried to hold himself indifferent to her vibrant beauty, but it reached down into his guts, as it always had. So utterly feminine in leg-hugging black pants, a long-sleeved blouse in scarlet silk, and a curly white sheepskin vest, she pulled at all his male instincts. Sheer pride alone carried Ty two steps to the side of her to the ever-full coffee pot.
“Hello, Tara.” He was shaking inside as he poured himself a cup, but he kept his voice level, Ty barely looked at her, but he was conscious of her every movement, her every breath.
She stood with that regal grace, so flawless that he was instantly reminded of his grubby appearance, the stench of animal sweat and excrement that clung to his clothes, and a scratchy beard growth shadowing his cheeks. He bore little resemblance to the well-dressed college man who had waited attendance on her.
Her head was tipped at a considering angle as Tara contemplated the marked changes in him. The likeness to his father was so much more evident, almost a tribal stamp. The dark hair, thick and unruly, the granite chin and brow, the impenetrable darkness of those wide, deeply set eyes, the roughly molded cheekbones, and the ridged gravity inherent in the strong jaws, all were features they shared. The surface dirt couldn’t hide the man he’d become.
“Hello, Ty.” She finally spoke, her voice gentle—half humorous, yet so very confident. “I had hoped you would write, but I never heard a word from you. And I realized if I hoped to see you at all, I’d have to come to you. So, here I am—prepared to beg your forgiveness.”
Her hands opened in a graceful gesture that seemed to give herself to him without reservation. Ty remembered well the subtle messages she could convey with her body movements, the many shades of meaning she could weave into words.
Too many conflicting reactions were going through him at once, too many emotions running raw for him to unravel. He wanted her; he hated her; he loved her; and he resented her being here and putting him through all this again.
“I can’t imagine you begging for anything,” Ty countered smoothly and lifted the metal cup to his mouth, never once changing his loose stance.
She laughed at his remark, admitting with a provocative, upward-peering look, “I don’t do it well.” Then that small smile claimed her lips again. “I rather like you in these surroundings. You were out of your element in college.”
“Why did you come here?” he demanded, lowering his cup and staring into it. Not for an instant did Ty be believe Tara was here to seek his forgiveness. She had never before cared whether her actions met with anyone’s approval or disapproval but her own,
“I told you—”
“Don’t play games with me!” Harshly he cut across her words. “You do it too damned well.”
For a split second she doubted her ability to command the situation. Then a hurt look flashed across her face as she dropped her eyes under the force of his gaze.
“I had hoped you might be glad to see me again.” Tara lifted her head, throwing it back with regrouped poise and making her voice sound as if she didn’t care. “I didn’t come to make you angry. It’s obvious I’m not welcome here.” She paused, holding his gaze for an eloquent second. “I know it took me a long time to finally accept your invitation to visit, but I did come. I thought that might mean something to you.”
His only reply was silence. As she made her turn to leave, the sun set fire to the black opal on her finger. The sight of it tore him loose from his rigid stand of indifference.
“Why are you still wearing the ring?” There was a betraying roughness in his voice, vibrating on an emotional edge.
Tara turned slowly back to face him, relaxing a little. And Ty knew he was still caught in the spell of her elusive beauty.
“Because you gave it to me,” she said. His eyes made a feature-by-feature study of her, down to the last mole. And the silence lengthened. “What are you thinking, Ty?”
“That you’re more beautiful than ever, but don’t drag any more strings in front of me to see if I’ll pounce at them,” he warned.
“That’s the second time you’ve accused me of toying with you.”
“Didn’t you?” The challenge was sudden and vehement, proof that she’d gotten through to him.
“Not consciously, no. Oh, I admit I made mistakes about what things were important to me. But, Ty—” Tara appealed to him in a half-bantering tone. “Isn’t a girl entitled to change her mind about something more than once?”
The pressure of the moment got to him. He emptied the steaming coffee from his cup onto the ground with a downward fling of his hand, needing to release some of the coiled energy inside him.
“You say i
t so easily. It’s just another game of yours. It was never a game with me. There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by that I haven’t thought of you—wanted you. Never a midnight sky that didn’t have your face in it. I never stopped wanting you. When Dad said your name a minute ago, I wanted you then.”
“But I’m here,” she insisted.
“You don’t understand” he insisted gruffly. “I wanted you, but the wounds were licked dry. They haven’t healed, they haven’t gone away, but the bleeding has stopped. I’m not going to have you open them up again.”
“Can I do that?” Tara mused playfully.
“You know damned well you can.” Ty was serious. “But I’m on the road to getting over you, and I want to stay on it.”
“Without looking back?” She let herself become serious. “Even when someone is calling for you?”
The shutters slipped, just for an instant letting her see his uncertainty. For her, the doubt fled. Reaching out, she grasped his roughly callused hand between her own.
“I didn’t come here to open old wounds, Ty. It could be I came to see if I could persuade you to propose to me again.”
“You already turned me down once. No, thanks.” The touch of her hands seemed to harden him again.
“Can’t you believe that I have realized I was wrong? Is it wanting too much to wish that I could have another chance?”
“So you can change your mind again?” Ty challenged. “I’ve been through that once, Tara. You’re not going to put me through it again.”
The wisdom of Eve made her wise enough to know it was time to draw back and not press the issue further. He had shown a moment’s uncertainty; she knew he was vulnerable. She withdrew her hands, smiling resignedly up at him.
“I’m only going to be here a couple of days,” she told him. “Daddy’s in Calgary on business. He’ll be coming back through on Wednesday to pick me up so we can fly back home. I wish there would have been time for you to show me around the ranch. After all you’ve told me about it, I would have liked the chance to see it with you.”
“Maybe another time.” Ty was relieved by her acceptance that he’d finished with the past and answered without thinking.