But when she got back to the kitchen, her new leather coat tight around her body, she found Callaghan in the kitchen and the remains of her cake, her beautiful cake, on the floor below a huge chocolate spot on the kitchen wall.
He turned, outraged beyond all proportion, looking broader than usual in his shepherd's coat. His black eyes glittered at her from under his wide-brimmed Stetson. "I don't need reminding that I'm thirty-eight," he said in a soft, dangerous tone. "And I don't want a cake, or a party, or presents. I want nothing from you! Do you understand?"
The very softness of his voice was frightening. She noticed that, of all the brothers, he was the one who never yelled or shouted. But his eyes were even more intimidating than his cold tone. "Sorry," she said in a choked whisper.
"You can't find a damned jar of apple butter for the biscuits, but you've got time to waste on things like...that!" he snapped, jerking his head toward the ruin of her cake lying shattered on the pale yellow linoleum.
She bit her lower lip and stood just looking at him, her blue eyes huge in her white face, where freckles stood out like flecks of butter in churned milk.
"What the hell possessed you? Didn't they tell you I hate birthdays, damn it?"
His voice cut her like a whip. His eyes alone were enough to make her knees wobble, burning into her like black flames. She swallowed. Her mouth was so dry she wondered why her tongue didn't stick to the roof of it. "Sorry," she said again.
Her lack of response made him wild. He glared at her as if he hated her.
He took a step toward her, a violent, quick movement, and she backed up at once, getting behind the chopping block near the wall. Her whole posture was one of fear. He stopped in his tracks and stared at her, scowling.
Her hands gripped the edge of the block and she looked young and hunted. She bit her lower lip, waiting for the rest of the explosion that she knew was coming. She'd only wanted to do something nice for him. Maybe she'd also wanted to make friends. It had been a horrible mistake. It was blatantly obvious that he didn't want her for a friend.
"Hey, Cag, could you—" Rey stopped dead in his tracks as he opened the kitchen door and took in the scene with a glance. Tess, white-faced, all but shivering and not from the cold. Cag, with his big hands curled into fists at his side, his black eyes blazing. The cake, shattered against a wall.
Cag seemed to jerk as if his brother's appearance had jolted him out of the frozen rage that had held him captive.
"Here, now," Rey said, talking quietly, because he knew his brother in these flash-fire tempers. "Don't do this. Cag, look at her. Come on, look at her, Cag."
He seemed to come to his senses when he caught the bright glimmer of unshed tears in those blue, blue eyes. She was shaking, visibly frightened.
He let out a breath and his fists unclenched. Tess was swallowing, as if to keep her fear hidden, and her hands were pushed deep into the pockets of her coat. She was shaking and she could barely get a breath of air.
"We have to get those culls ready to ship." Rey was still speaking softly. "Cag, are you coming? We can't find the manifest and the trucks are here for the cattle."
"The manifest." Cag took a long breath. "It's in the second drawer of the desk, in the folder. I forgot to put it back in the file. Go ahead. I'll be right with you."
Rey didn't budge. Couldn't Cag see that the girl was terrified of him?
He eased around his brother and went to the chopping block, getting between the two of them.
"You need to get out of that coat. It's hot in here!" Rey said, forcing a laugh that he didn't feel. "Come on, pilgrim, shed the coat."
He untied it and she let him remove it, her eyes going to his chest and resting there, as if she'd found refuge.
Cag hesitated, but only for an instant. He said something filthy in elegant Spanish, turned on his heel and went out, slamming the door behind him.
Tess slumped, a convulsive shudder leaving her sick. She wiped unobtrusively at her eyes.
"Thanks for saving me," she said huskily.
"He's funny about birthdays," he said quietly. "I don't guess we made it clear enough for you, but at least he didn't throw the cake at you," he added with a grin. "Old Charlie Greer used to bake for us before we found Mrs. Culbertson, whom you replaced. Charlie made a cake for Cag's birthday and ended up wearing it."
"Why?" she asked curiously.
"Nobody knows. Except maybe Simon," he amended. "They were older than the rest of us. I guess it goes back a long way. We don't talk about it, but I'm sure you've heard some of the gossip about our mother."
She nodded jerkily.
"Simon and Corrigan got past the bad memories and made good marriages. Cag..." He shook his head. "He was like this even when he got engaged. And we all thought that it was more a physical infatuation than a need to marry. She was, if you'll pardon the ex- . pression, the world's best tease. A totally warped woman. Thank God she had enough rope to hang herself before he ended up with her around his neck like an albatross."
She was still getting her breath back. She took the coat that Rey was holding. "I'll put it up. Thanks."
"He'll apologize eventually," he said slowly.
"It won't help." She smoothed over the surface of the leather coat. She looked up, anger beginning to replace fear and hurt. "I'm leaving. I'm sorry, but I can't stay here and worry about any other little quirks like that. He's scary."
He looked shocked. "He wouldn't have hit you," he said softly, grimacing when he saw quick tears film her eyes. "Tess, he'd never! He has rages. None of us really understand them, because he won't talk about what's happened to him, ever. But he's not a maniac."
"No, of course not. He just doesn't like me."
Rey wished he could dispute that. It was true, Cag was overtly• antagonistic toward her, for reasons that none of the brothers understood.
"I hope you can find someone to replace me," she said with shaky pride. "Because I'm going as soon as I get packed."
"Tess, not like this. Give it a few days."
"No." She went to hang up her coat. She'd had enough of Callaghan Hart. She wouldn't ever get over what he'd said, the way he'd looked at her. He'd frightened her badly and she wasn't going to work for with a man who could go berserk over a cake.
Chapter 2
Rey went out to the corral where the culls—the nonproducing second-year heifers and cows—were being held, along with the young steers fattened and ready for market. Both groups were ready to be loaded into trucks and taken away to their various buyers. A few more steers than usual had been sold because drought had limited the size of the summer corn and hay crop. Buying feed for the winter was not cost-productive. Not even an operation the size of the Harts's could afford deadweight in these hard economic times.
Cag was staring at the milling cattle absently, his heavy brows drawn down in thought, his whole posture stiff and unapproachable.
Rey came up beside him, half a head shorter, lither and more rawboned than the bigger man.
"Well, she's packing," he said bluntly.
Cag's eyes glanced off his brother's and went back to the corral. His jaw clenched. "I hate birthdays! I know she was told."
"Sure she was, but she didn't realize that breaking the rule was going to be life-threatening."
"Hell!" Cag exploded, turning with black-eyed fury. "I never raised a hand to her! I wouldn't, no matter how mad I got."
"Would you need to?" his brother asked solemnly. "Damn it, Cag, she was shaking like a leaf. She's just a kid, and it's been a rough few months for her. She hasn't even got over losing her dad yet."
"Lay it on," Cag said under his breath, moving restlessly.
"Where's she going to go?" he persisted. "She hasn't seen her mother since she was sixteen years old. She has no family, no friends. Even cooking jobs aren't that thick on the ground this time of year, not in Jacobsville,"
Cag took off his hat and wiped his forehead on his sleeve before he replaced it. H
e'd been helping run the steers down the chute into the loading corral and he was sweating, despite the cold. He didn't say a word.
Leo came up with a rope in his hand, watching his brothers curiously.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"Oh, nothing," Rey muttered, thoroughly disgusted. "Tess made him a birthday cake and he destroyed it. She's packing."
Leo let out a rough sigh and turned his eyes toward the house. "I can't say I blame her. I got her into trouble at the Christmas party by spiking the holiday punch, and now this. I guess she thinks we're all lunatics and she's better off without us."
"No doubt." Rey shrugged. "Well, let's get the cattle loaded."
"You aren't going to try to stop her?" Leo asked.
"What would be the point?" Rey asked solemnly. His face hardened. "If you'd seen her, you wouldn't want to stop her." He glared at Cag. “Nice work, pal. I hope she can pack with her hands shaking that badly!"
Rey stormed off toward the truck. Leo gave his older brother a speaking glance and followed.
Cag, feeling two inches high and sick with himself, turned reluctantly and went back toward the house.
Tess had her suitcases neatly loaded. She closed the big one, making one last sweep around the bedroom that had been hers for the past few weeks. It was a wrench to leave, but she couldn't handle scenes like that. She'd settle for harder work in more peaceful surroundings. At least, Cag wouldn't be around to make her life hell.
She picked up her father's world champion gold belt buckle and smoothed her fingers over it. She took it everywhere with her, like a lucky talisman to ward off evil. It hadn't worked today, but it usually
did. She put it gently into the small suitcase and carefully closed the lid, snapping the latches shut.
A sound behind her caught her attention and she turned around, going white in the face when she saw who had opened the door.
She moved around the bed and behind the wing chair that stood near the window, her eyes wide and unblinking.
He was bareheaded. He didn't speak. His black eyes slid over her pale features and he took a long, deep breath.
"You don't have anywhere to go," he began.
It wasn't the best of opening gambits. Her chin went up. “I’ll sleep at a Salvation Army shelter," she said coldly. "Dad and I spent a lot of nights there when we were on the road and he didn't win any events."
He scowled. "What?"
She hated having admitted that, to him of all people. Her face closed up. "Will you let one of the hands drive me to town? I can catch a bus up to Victoria."
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his close-fitting jeans, straining the fabric against his powerful thighs. He stared at her broodingly.
"Never mind," she said heavily. "I'll walk or hitch a ride."
She picked up her old coat, the threadbare tweed one she'd had for years, and slipped it on.
"Where's your new coat?" he asked shortly.
"In the hall closet. Don't worry, I'm not taking anything that, doesn't belong to me."
She said it so matter-of-factly that he was wounded right through. "We gave it to you," he said.
Her eyes met his squarely. "I don't want it, or a job, or anything else you gave me out of pity."
He was shocked. He'd never realized she thought of it like that. "You needed a job and we needed a cook," he said flatly. "It wasn't Pity."
She shrugged and seemed to slouch. "All right, have it any way you like. It doesn't matter."
She slipped her shoulder bag over her arm and picked up her worn suitcases, one big one and an overnight bag, part of a matched set of vinyl luggage that she and her father had won in a raffle.
But when she reached the door, Cag didn't move out of the way. She couldn't get around him, either. She stopped an arm's length away and stared at him.
He was trying to think of a way to keep her without sacrificing his pride. Rey was right; she was just a kid and he'd been unreasonable. He shocked himself lately. He was a sucker for helpless things, for little things, but he'd been brutal to this child and he didn't know why.
"Can I get by, please?" she asked through stiff lips.
He scowled. A muscle jumped beside his mouth. He moved closer, smiling coldly with self-contempt when she backed up. He pushed the door shut.
She backed up again, her eyes widening at the unexpected action, but he didn't come any closer.
"When I was six," he said with cold black eyes, "I wanted a birthday cake like the other kids had. A cake and a party. Simon had gone to town with Dad and Corrigan. It was before Rey was born. Leo was asleep and my mother and I were in the kitchen alone. She made some pert remark about spoiled brats thinking they deserved treats when they were nothing but nuisances. She had a cake on the counter, one that a neighbor had sent home with Dad. She smashed the cake into my face," he recalled, his eyes darker than ever, "and started hitting me. I don't think she would have stopped, except that Leo woke up and started squalling. She sent me to my room and locked me in. I don't know what she told my father, but I got a hell of a spanking from him." He searched her shocked eyes. "I never asked for another cake."
She put the suitcases down slowly and shocked him by walking right up to him and touching him lightly on the chest with a shy, nervous little hand. It didn't occur to him that he'd never confessed that particular incident to anyone, not even his brothers. She seemed to know it, just the same.
"My father couldn't cook. He opened cans," she said quietly. "I learned to cook when I was eleven, in self-defense. My mother wouldn't have baked me a cake, either, even if she'd stayed with us.
She didn't want me, but Dad did, and he put her into a position where she had to marry him. She never forgave either of us for it. She left before I started school."
"Where is she now?"
She didn't meet his eyes. "I don't know. I don't care."
His chest rose and fell roughly. She made him uncomfortable. He moved back, so that her disturbing hand fell away from his chest.
She didn't question why he didn't like her to touch him. It had been an impulse and now she knew not to do it again. She lifted her face and searched his dark eyes. "I know you don't like me," she said. "It's better if I get a job somewhere else. I'm almost twenty-two. I can take care of myself."
His eyes averted to the window. "Wait until spring," he said stiffly. "You'll have an easier time finding work then."
She hesitated. She didn't really want to go, but she couldn't stay here with such unbridled resentment as he felt for her.
He glanced down at her with something odd glittering in his black eyes. "My brothers will drown me if I let you walk out that door," he said curtly. "Neither of them is speaking to me."
They both knew that he didn't care in the least what his brothers thought of him. It was a peace initiative.
She moved restlessly. "Dorie's had the baby. She can make biscuits again."
"She won't," he said curtly. "She's too busy worshiping the baby."
Her gaze dropped to the floor. "It's a sweet baby."
A wave of heat ran through his body. He turned and started back toward the door. "Do what you please," he said.
She still hesitated.
He opened the door and turned before he went through it, looking dark as thunder and almost as intimidating. "Too afraid of me to stay?" he drawled, hitting her right in her pride with deadly accuracy.
She drew herself up with smoldering fury. "I am not afraid of you!"
His eyebrows arched. "Sure you are. That's why you're running away like a scared kid."
"I wasn't running! I'm not a scared kid, either!"
That was more like it. He could manage if she fought back. He couldn't live with the image of her white and shaking and backing away from him. It had hurt like the very devil.
He pulled his Stetson low over his eyes. "Suit yourself. But if you stay, you'd damned sure better not lose the apple butter again," he said with biting sarcasm.
"I heard that."
She glared at him. “And if you ever, ever, throw another cake at me...!"
"I didn't throw it at you," he said pointedly. "I threw it at the wall."
Her face was growing redder by the second. "I spent two hours making the damned thing!"
"Lost apple butter, cursed cake, damned women..." He was still muttering as he stomped off down the hall with the faint, musical jingle of spurs following him.
Tess stood unsteadily by the bed for several seconds before she snapped out of her trance and put her suitcases back on the bed to unpack them. She needed her head read for agreeing to stay, but she didn't really have anywhere else to go. And what he'd told her reached that part of her that was unbearably touched by small, wounded things.
She could see a little Cag with his face covered in cake, being brutally hit by an uncaring woman, trying not to cry. Amazingly it excused every harsh word, every violent action. She wondered how many other childhood scars were hiding behind that hard, expressionless face.
Cag was coldly formal with her after that, as if he regretted having shared one of his deeper secrets with her. But there weren't any more violent outbursts. He kept out of her way and she kept out of his. The winter months passed into a routine sameness. Without the rush and excitement of the holidays, Tess found herself with plenty of tune on her hands when she was finished with her chores. The brothers worked all hours, even when they weren't bothered with birthing cattle and roundup, as they were in the warmer months of spring.
But there were fences to mend, outbuildings to repair, upkeep on the machinery that was used to process feed. There were sick animals to treat and corrals to build and vehicles to overhaul. It never seemed to end. And in between all that, there were conferences and conventions and business trips.
It was rare, Tess found, to have all three bachelor brothers at the table at the same time. More often than not, she set places only for Rey and Leo, because Cag spent more and more time away. They assured her that she wasn't to blame, that it was just pressing business, but she wondered just the same. She knew that Cag only tolerated her for the sake of her domestic skills, that he hated the very sight of her. But the other brothers were so kind that it almost made up for Cag. And the ever-present Mrs. Lewis, doing the rough chores, was a fountain of information about the history of the Hart ranch and the surrounding area. Tess, a history buff, learned a lot about the wild old days and stored the information away almost greedily. The lazy, pleasant days indoors seemed to drag and she was grateful for any interesting tidbits that Mrs. Lewis sent her way.
Books By Diana Palmer Page 202