Courting Callie

by Lynn Erickson

  It wasn’t until Mase was heading toward the rental car that Callie finally got a few seconds alone with him. Her heart was bursting with a hundred, a thousand things she wanted to say, but all that came out was “Drive carefully, Mase. And, Joey, you be a good boy.”

  Mase’s eyes met hers, and she saw something in their depths. A promise? A beginning? Or an end?

  “We wouldn’t have found Joey without you,” he said. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly.” Callie smiled tremulously and gestured toward the porch where Peter was playing with the dogs. “We have Peter to thank, too. And everyone else.”

  “I know. And I won’t ever forget that, Callie.”

  “Will Joey come back…?” She lowered her voice. “You know, to see Rebecca?”

  He hesitated. “Things have a way of working out,” he began, and then they were interrupted by Reese, who’d come by to let Mase know he’d be driving Berry down to Denver in the morning.

  “Maybe I’ll stop in at the trial,” Reese said, “see how you’re doing.”

  “I hope it’s over pretty quick,” Mase said. “And I’ll have an answer for you soon, okay?”

  Reese shook his hand. “Take your time, son,” he said, and then he strode off toward the house.

  “What was that all about?” Callie asked as Mase started the car.

  “I’ll tell you later,” he said. He took her hand and squeezed it.

  “Good luck at the trial,” she said, not truly believing that he was going to drive off and she’d never see him again. There was so much she had to tell him, so many things…

  “I’ll call,” Mase said, getting in the car.

  She nodded, a lump forming in her throat, and then he and Joey were gone. If ever she needed a little magic, it was now.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  MASE MET RICHARD METCALF’S gaze for a moment before he turned his attention back to the man’s lawyer and answered the question. “No, sir, I did not see Mr. Metcalf at Councilman Edwards’s apartment.”

  Sleazebag smiled and nodded at the jury, then turned back to Mase, who’d been on the witness stand nearly the whole day. “So,” the lawyer said, “my client cannot be placed at the crime scene?”

  Mase looked at the man levelly. “That’s correct, sir. Only Mr. Metcalf’s employee can be placed at the murder scene.”

  “Objection!” Sleazebag barked, whirling toward the judge. “Your Honor, will you please instruct the witness to answer only the question posed to him?”

  The judge turned toward Mase. “Detective, that is, Mr. LeBow, you must answer the question asked and not interject side comments. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” Mase said pleasantly.

  The judge sighed and addressed the twelve jurors. “You are to disregard that last statement, ladies and gentlemen.” Then to the court recorder, he added, “Strike Mr. LeBow’s last reply.”

  Sleazebag frowned and went back to his cross-examination.

  It was a game they all played, and Mase knew the rules. He pushed just so far and then politely backed off. The object of the game was simple: convey as much info to the jury as possible without appearing too strident or biased. Everyone in the courtroom—including the jurors—knew how the game was played, and thus far Mase was doing okay, across the fifty-yard line and sprinting toward the goal. The jury had already heard prosecution testimony that Richard Metcalf’s voice had been identified as the one on the phone to Hank Berry, the voice giving explicit instructions to have the city councilman murdered. Mase had identified Berry as the man he’d bumped into at the crime scene, and things were looking bad for billionaire Metcalf.

  Sleazebag posed another question to Mase. “All right, Mr. LeBow, let’s move on to another subject. Did you drive to Mr. Metcalf’s home and threaten him on the night of…”

  Mase heard the question, and he answered honestly that he had indeed grabbed Metcalf and threatened him. Then Mase added, “Of course, he kidnapped my son, anyway.”

  “Objection!”

  On it went. The game. Mase getting in his whole story despite the objections and terse warnings from the judge. The minutes ticked by, then hours. And while Sleazebag and the D.A. called out his rulings—often with a sidebar discussion—Mase couldn’t help letting his thoughts drift.

  Joey. Right now his grandparents were watching him down at Castle Pines, but school was going to start soon, and Mase had to come to a decision: put Joey in first grade here in Denver, or enroll him in Lightning Creek.

  He thought about his last conversation with Reese Hatcher before he and Joey had left for Denver. They’d been standing in the drive of the ranch.

  “I’m gonna hang up the old hat next election,” Reese had said. “The wife wants to spend the winters in the RV. Arizona, you know.”

  “Sounds nice,” Mase had said.

  “Well, anyway, Lightning Creek will be needing a new sheriff. Uh-huh. And I got to thinking about you, son, now that you’ve given up the Denver police.”

  Mase had been taken aback. “Me? What about your deputies? Shouldn’t one of them run for the position?”

  “’Fraid none of the boys wants the job. They all like the status quo. And that’s when I got to thinking about you. Especially now that you and Miss Callie, well, you get my meaning.”

  Mase had said nothing. He got the meaning, all right, only too well. “What about the election? I mean, I’m not even a Wyoming resident.”

  But Reese had obviously thought that out. “No problem, son. You can establish residency in plenty of time to get your name on the ballot.”

  “Hmm,” Mase had said. “That doesn’t mean I’d win, Reese.”

  “Oh, you’ll win. You’ll be the only name on the ballot. Besides, you’re a local hero.”

  “Me?”

  “You betcha. Everybody in the county knows your whole life story.”

  “What?”

  “Donna. My dispatcher.”

  “Oh,” Mase had said. “Oh.”

  “So you just go on down to Denver and do your testifying, son, and think it over.”

  “Well…”

  “Take your time. No rush.” Then Reese had cast a sidelong glance at Callie, who stood talking with Joey and Rebecca. “Well, I wouldn’t take too long, if you know what I mean. Miss Callie, she can be one impatient customer.”

  Mase had smiled and nodded and given her a look, too. Then he’d promised he’d think it over.

  And he was. Right on the witness stand.

  “What time did you arrive at Mr. Edwards’s apartment?” Sleazebag was asking.

  Mase replied. But it was getting harder and harder to concentrate. Hell, in the depositions he’d given, he’d answered these same questions so many times he’d lost count.

  “It was dark by then,” Sleazebag said. “How could you identify a face in the dark, Mr. LeBow?”

  “The apartment complex is well-lit,” Mase said, and he named the placement of all the lighting, and even the wattage of the bulbs for good measure.

  Callie, he thought, trying not to let his concentration waver. Callie. If someone had told him last spring that he’d be bought at a bachelor auction and fall in love… Well, Mase would have said, “You’re crazy.”

  Callie… With her whimsical expressions and her own special magic. And her horses. Subconsciously, he reached up and touched his brow, touched the red line where the rock had met his head whe
n Diablo threw him. Maybe Callie wouldn’t insist he ride again. Did a sheriff have to ride?

  “Mr. LeBow, I’d like to ask you to explain to the jury, sir, why you quit the police force.”

  “Objection!” The D.A. leaped to his feet and the judge signaled the lawyers to his bench, where they began arguing in whispers.

  What would Amy think? What would his late wife have told him to do? Mase thought hard about that, and the only thing he knew for sure was that she would have wanted Joey to have a family. Not just Mase and four grandparents, but a mother. And siblings. Amy had always wanted more children.

  But did Callie?

  Dumb question. Of course Callie would want kids. Probably dozens of them. Her own and every little lost soul she could get her hands on. She would put them on her horses, too, and let the magic begin. Oh, yeah.

  Mase concentrated on the question being asked him. “…why you left the Denver police force?”

  “Because I got sick of rich men like the defendant here getting away with murder. Literally.”

  Sleazebag’s mouth dropped and the judge banged his gavel. “Mr. LeBow,” the judge said in earnest, “I’ll allow no more remarks like that in my courtroom. I promise, I will hold you in contempt if I hear anything more on those lines. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, sir,” Mase said docilely, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a few of the jurors grinning. “I’m sorry, Your Honor.”

  Callie. Those big hazel eyes and fine golden hair. He saw her in his house in Denver, in his kitchen. He saw her mounting her horse, swinging that slim leg over the saddle horn. And he saw her in the barn, the dust motes dancing in the light, the hollow at the base of her throat, the firmness of her small breasts. God, how he wanted her.

  But there was his house, his stuff—heck, he supposed he’d have a garage sale. A big one. And the things he needed, Joey’s things… Put them all in a U-Haul and tow it to Wyoming. The house would sell quickly. He guessed he could rent a place in Lightning Creek. If Callie, well, if they got together, then she could choose where they’d live. He didn’t care. The summer was tearing by and Joey would need to be in school. And Rebecca was in first grade, in Lightning Creek.

  The judge called it a day at four-fifteen when Sleazebag said he had no more questions for Mason LeBow. The D.A. had hesitated, deciding whether or not to do a redirect examination, but apparently he was satisfied, and Mase was dismissed. He stepped down from the witness box and thought, Free at last. He couldn’t believe how good he felt. He even smiled at Metcalf as he strode by. Not a malevolent smile, but a simple goodbye and good riddance. Then he was out of the courthouse, loosening his necktie and breathing in drafts of fresh air as he walked to his car.

  What would his parents think if he told them he was moving to Wyoming? But Mase knew that answer. “Thank God,” his mother would say, and his dad would pat him on the back. They already knew about Callie, thanks to Joey, who’d done nothing but talk about her and Rebecca and the ranch since they’d gotten back. It was as if the abduction had never happened. Someday Joey would understand. But for now he was talking about it as if it had been an adventure. A cold, wet one, but an adventure nonetheless.

  He drove toward Castle Pines and thought a lot about Joey, and he knew that in the end, nothing was as important as his son’s welfare.

  Okay, Mase thought, what he felt about Callie was important, too. He loved her. There was no denying it or running from it. He loved her. And he was darn sure she loved him. Him and Joey. But would she marry him? They’d never talked about marriage. Hell, they’d never had time to even talk about love. So just where did that leave them?

  He pulled up in front of his folks’ place and parked, the questions still batting around his head. Then Joey banged open the front screen door and raced out to greet his father. Mase got out of the car and hugged him, tousled his hair, then waved at his mother, who was standing in the door, smiling.

  Mase looked at his mother, he looked down at Joey and he knew. He supposed he’d known for a long time what he wanted and what he needed to do to get it. He put his hand on Joey’s shoulder. “Hey, kiddo,” he said, “you want to go for a walk, have a little man-to-man talk?”

  Joey looked up. “What’s a man-to-man talk, Daddy?”

  Mase laughed and took his son’s hand and began to walk down the sidewalk. “Well,” he said, “it’s like this. I’ve come to a decision. A real important decision, and I want to know how you feel about it.”

  Joey stopped and cocked his head. “You mean about moving to Wyoming?”

  Magic, Mase thought. There it was again.

  * * *

  CALLIE FINISHED the chores early that day. She hardly knew what to do with herself now that summer was nearly gone and the ranch wasn’t a three-ring circus anymore.

  She perched on the top bar of the riding ring, boot heels hooked over the lower bar, chin resting on her fists, and ran her gaze over the ranch. It was quiet. The horses stood munching grain in the barn behind her. The cottonwoods surrounding the house looked a little tired, a little dirty. Before long the leaves would be turning, then falling, then it would snow.

  Callie sighed. It had only been a few weeks, but Mase hadn’t called and she missed him. She wondered how the trial was going, how Joey was doing.

  Well, at least she had Saturday to look forward to, when the townsfolk would flock out to the ranch and there would be fun and gossip and therapy sessions.

  She sat there and felt the breeze on her face. Her eyes strayed to the long ranch road. She couldn’t help it; she had a nervous tic, watching the road for a dust plume and a blue Cherokee at the head of it. She squinted under the brim of her Stetson so she could see better, but there was no one on the road, no dust, no car. No Mase.

  You’ve got to stop this, Thorne, she said to herself, and that’s when the fantasy began.

  She was sitting there on the fence, heels hooked to keep her balance, moping. Her eyes were fixed on the road, and suddenly she saw it, a dark dot turning in from the highway, a dark speck that got larger, and, yes, there was the dust cloud following it like the wake of a ship. She peered intently at it, her heart beating drumbeats in her chest. Was it…? Yes, it was his blue Cherokee!

  Mase. Oh, my God, Mase was coming back!

  Happiness overwhelmed her, a joy that brought tears to her eyes and a sweet warmth to her belly. Her life would be complete now. No matter what the future held, they’d be together, she and Mase. And Joey. Love swelled inside her like a beautiful flower unfolding to the sun.

  She jumped down from the fence and ran to meet him. He stopped the car, and he and Joey piled out.

  And there he was, right in front of her, close enough to touch, tall and handsome, his eyes a dark cobalt blue with emotion, and he was smiling at her. In a way he had never smiled before.

  “Callie,” he said.

  “Mase?” she breathed.

  “Callie, I’m here to stay. I love you.”

  “Oh, Mase.” She ran to him and they threw their arms around each other. She could feel him, smell him. She was in his embrace, he loved her. Callie’s life was complete. She was crying for joy, her face buried in his shoulder.

  “I love you, too,” she said.

  He held her at arm’s length and searched her face. “Will you marry me?” he asked in a smooth, deep voice that melted her insides.

  “Yes,” Callie whispered. “Yes, Mase, yes.”

  “Will you be my mother n
ow?” came Joey’s piping voice.

  “Yes, pardner, I will.”

  They clung to each other and Joey, too. The sun was shining on the Someday Ranch. The horses whinnied with happiness. Beavis and Butt-Head galloped over to jump and whine with delight. Even the barn cats came out and twined around their ankles, purring. Birds sang overhead.

  Oh, come on, Callie thought, ending the dream. You overdid it this time.

  She sighed again, unhooking her heels from the fence, and started to climb down. She would go inside, shower, help Francine with dinner. Not that Francine needed much help these days, what with the paltry crew that was left, Callie thought, glancing toward the house. And that’s when she saw the dark speck turn onto the ranch road.

  She stopped short and peered beneath her hat brim. She closed her eyes tight and opened them again. It was still there.

  She put a hand on top of her hat to hold it on and gave her head a shake.

  It was still there, growing larger by the second. A blue Cherokee with a plume of dust billowing in its wake.

  “Oh,” Callie whispered, but she didn’t run to meet him as she had in her fantasy; she was frozen to the spot, couldn’t move a muscle.

  The car pulled up, the doors opened, Mase and Joey got out. Her heart stopped then, just skipped a whole beat, then began a new, heavy rhythm.

  Mase looked around, took off his sunglasses in the slow, macho, seductive way he had. Still she couldn’t move. He spotted her, but he didn’t smile, not as he had in the fantasy. He looked at her, seriously, meaningfully.

  “Callie,” he said.

  “Mase?” she breathed.

  It didn’t happen exactly as it had in her fantasy. It wasn’t nearly as easy.