The Homeplace

by Janet Dailey

  "Do you like music?" Hearing Tad's calm acceptance of such a stifling existence, Cathie had to seize on an unrelated subject.

  Tad nodded vigorously. "My favorite record that mother sometimes played was the '1812 Overture'. I liked it when the cannons boomed."

  At his age, Cathie thought to herself, she probably would have been humming "Found a Peanut" instead of that, but at least he had exhibited a typically boyish reaction in his reasons for liking the song.

  The bobber on Tad's line disappeared underwater for a split second before reappearing. "I think you have a nibble," Cathie whispered. "Watch your bobber."

  It disappeared again and popped back to the surface. Tad gripped the pole tightly in his hands, glancing excitedly at Cathie, but unsure of what to do.

  "Let the bobber go under again and give the pole a hard yank when it does," she instructed.

  The bobber went under again and stayed. Cathie knew the fish was hooked and Tad wouldn't have to worry about setting the hook. They were both shouting with glee when Tad flipped the line out of the water and sent a good-sized bullhead flopping onto the grass of the upper bank. Removing hooks from fishes' mouths had never been Cathie's forte, but she managed to show Tad how it was done. While he rebaited his hook, she found a stick that would work as a stringer for their catch.

  Now that the first fish had been caught, Tad set about his fishing in earnest. Their luck was evenly dispersed, with Tad catching two more and Cathie hooking three, one of which she tossed back as being too small. Both of them were enjoying themselves so much that the sound of a pickup truck blended in with the calls of the meadowlarks and crows, the distant babbling of the water over the rapids and the occasional lowing of the cows.

  Both were surprised when Rob's voice sounded above them. "I saw you two from the road. Are you catching anything?"

  Tad was the first to recover, jumping to his feet and scrambling up the steep bank without any concern for the condition of his clothes.

  "I caught three bullheads!" he cried, unable to conceal his delight. "And Cathie caught three, too, but she put one back because it was too small to eat. Show him what we caught."

  Quite willingly Cathie turned away from those brilliant brown eyes belonging to Rob Douglas to retrieve the makeshift stringer from the shallow water near the bank. She held them up for Rob to view, conscious of her racing pulse and the slight flush in her cheeks.

  "Cathie said Mrs. Carver might cook them for supper tonight. Do you think she would?" Tad asked after Rob had suitably complimented his son on the size of the fish.

  "I think we can persuade her," he nodded, turning an impersonal smile of gratitude on Cathie at this change in his son. "Don't you, Miss Carlsen?"

  "I think so," Cathie agreed, only to be interrupted by Tad.

  "She said to call her Cathie because Miss Carlsen makes her sound like an old maid," he announced, correcting his father, while Cathie made a mental wish to have a bit of his reticence for conversation retained, especially in the light of the laughing look in Rob's eyes.

  "I think it's only fair that you call me Rob," he grinned. Cathie nodded agreement with a resigned smile, experiencing a flash of temper for ever agreeing to his proposition to show Tad around the farm. Immediate chagrin replaced her anger at the happy look on Tad's face. So far the experiment had been successful. "By the way," Rob went on, "I brought a bottle of lemonade and some cookies down with me just on the off chance that you two might be hungry or thirsty."

  Since no one would suffer by her refusal but herself, Cathie accepted the offer of refreshments, knowing the effects of the sun and the soaring temperature had reduced her mouth to a cottony state.

  "I didn't think to bring any glasses," Rob remarked, uncapping the quart bottle of lemonade and passing it to Cathie. "So it will have to be a community jar."

  The sweetly tart liquid was truly thirst quenching as its tangy coldness soothed her parched throat. "Mmm, that's delicious," Cathie sighed, handing it back to Rob.

  "Where were you going, father?" Tad asked, after he had taken a giant swig of the lemonade.

  "Out to cheek on the new calves," Rob replied. "You haven't seen them yet, Tad. Would you like to come along?"

  His son didn't reply, but turned instead to Cathie. "Did you used to do that?"

  "Clay and I could hardly wait until the calves were born." All the other times she had referred to Clay that day, it had been a simple coupling bemuse of the many childhood episodes they had enjoyed together, but this time Cathie knew his name was a defense mechanism to prevent Rob from drawing her more tightly into his family circle. "My grandpa always let us name them."

  "Then you would be interested in this year's spring crop." Rob's dark gaze held hers as she swallowed nervously. "Since Clay isn't here—" there was a mocking twitch at the corner of his mouth "—you and Tad can name them."

  "What about the fish?" his son interrupted, much to Cathie's relief.

  "We can pick them up on the way back" Rob smiled down at the boy. "The five you caught are a pretty good size, just right for tonight's supper. So there's no need to catch any more. They'll wait there until the next time you go fishing."

  His father's explanation assured Tad and he said, "All right, we'll go."

  Cathie pressed her lips tightly together as the tall brown head turned toward her. She was being cornered into going with them and she didn't like it one bit.

  "I'll have to pass," she said, smiling falsely into the velvet-brown eyes that were regarding her with amusement. "It's getting late and I really should go."

  "It won't take more than a few minutes to check the calves." Rob's voice was soft and ultimately persuasive, but it only made Cathie harden her resolve. "And it will save you a walk all the way back to the house."

  Her mouth opened to emit a polite refusal when she spied the stricken look on Tad's face. His shoulders were beginning to sag. Instead of their afternoon ending on a high point, her refusal was bringing back the boy's brittle shell.

  "I'll go," Cathie gave in, tossing her head like an unruly filly as she glanced angrily at the smooth bronzed features looking so smugly back at her.

  "Let's go, then." Rob smiled at his son, sending Cathie a sideways mocking glance. "Everybody in the truck."

  "May I sit by the window?" Tad's exuberance had returned as he hopped around to the passenger's side of the cab.

  Cathie inhaled deeply before agreeing, knowing that would place her in the middle beside Rob. But it was a typical request and she had no cause to deny Tad the window seat. If only she hadn't become so fond of the boy, she thought to herself, none of this would be happening.

  The close quarters of the truck were stifling. It was impossible with the three of them in the seat for Cathie to avoid coming in contact with the driver. The brushing of his arm and thigh against hers transmitted a throbbing heat to her. Her pulse had quickened as Cathie held herself rigidly in the seat. The vague, resilient aroma of after-shave lotion mingled with his earthy, masculine scent to form an intoxicating combination. She stared straight ahead, trying to keep from bouncing into Rob as the truck made its slow, bumpy way over the uneven pasture ground.

  The Boyer River snaked through the el-shaped pasture, its waters dividing it into two halves. A small herd of stock cows were occupying the far end of the el, and Cathie blinked in relief as the ivory-white hides of the Charlois-Angus herd came into view. Rob stopped the truck some distance away so as not to upset the quietly grazing cows and the trio climbed out of the cab. Cathie stayed near Tad

  while Rob walked closer, studying the cows and the calves. Several minutes later he walked back to them, his face a study in concentration.

  "I have a calf missing," he announced. Now his eyes were diamond bright as they swept over the herd.

  "Are you sure?" Cathie asked, knowing it was not uncommon for rustling to occur even in this day and age, although usually in numbers of more than one.

  "Yes, I'm sure," Rob nodded. "The cow's probabl
y hidden it somewhere."

  "What are you going to do?" Tad inquired, his curiosity aroused by this interesting development.

  "Find it, I hope, son," he replied, clasping the boy's shoulder warmly. "Want to give me a hand?"

  "Sure," Tad nodded eagerly.

  Rob turned to Cathie. "It will only take a few minutes. Will you help?"

  "Yes," she answered. She was too much of a farm girl to refuse, especially for something as undemanding as finding a calf.

  "We can be fairly sure the cow didn't hide the calf near the river because the cover isn't very good there. And she didn't hide it in this general area or she would have showed some interest when we drove up. That leaves the stretch of ground by the fence," Rob declared. "We'll fan out. If she starts following one of us then we'll find out where she's hidden the calf." He glanced down at Cathie. "I'll take Tad with me."

  "Okay," she said, finding herself in complete agreement with his suggestion which, by its very thoroughness, let her know that he wasn't an inexperienced city-dweller.

  The trio walked together for several yards until they reached the designated stretch of pasture. Then they split up with Tad and Rob veering to the left while Cathie changed her angle slightly toward the right.

  "The cow has noticed us," Rob called. Cathie glanced over her shoulder to see the beige white cow alertly watching them. "She's concentrating on you, Cathie. The calf must be in your direction.''

  Maintaining the direction of her steps, she kept a close watch on the cow, anxious to find the exact location of the calf but cautious of incurring the wrath of the mother. Another glance over her shoulder saw the cow following her at a slow but interested pace. Cathie kept studying the terrain in front of her, trying to catch some sign of the calf without any success. A sound behind her drew another glance. The cow was trotting now, still several hundred feet away but coming closer. Quickening her pace, Cathie adjusted the direction she was walking so she would reach the fence in a shorter time.

  But the change of direction was a mistake that she learned only after she had committed herself. The pace of the hoofbeats behind her increased and Cathie broke into a run, heading for a gap in the fence where the wires sagged. She kept telling herself not to panic, that there was no danger of the cow catching her as she ducked beneath the wires into the tall weeds on the other side of the fence.

  Instantly the ground exploded beneath her. The air was rent by Cathie's shriek of surprise and the frantic bellowing of the calf she had just stepped on. As she dove headlong into the bull nettle, the calf made a hasty exit back into the pasture and his mother. The low, rolling sound of Rob's laughter intermixed with the more shrill sound of Tad's. Trying to avoid the prickles of the nettle bush, Cathie rolled into a cocklebur plant. When she finally regained her feet with the prickly burrs encased in her blouse and hair and the sting of the itchweed on her bare skin, she was livid with rage at the laughing pair walking toward her.

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  Chapter Six

  "ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?'' Rob asked, trying to hide the chuckle in his voice with concern, but the laughter danced out of his eyes.

  "A cow chases me through a fence and I land on the calf, fall into some itchweed and then a cocklebur patch and you ask if I'm all right!" Cathie snapped angrily.

  "You were so funny," Tad giggled behind his hand.

  She glanced from one to the other before looking down at her grass and dirt-stained pants and blouse. Her sense of humor was too strong now that the shock of the situation was over.

  "It must have looked pretty ridiculous," she conceded with a slight smile.

  "I don't know who was more surprised, you or the calf." Rob grinned as Cathie broke into laughter. Tad immediately joined her, no longer holding back the giggles that were shaking his slender body.

  As she imagined the comedy episode viewed from their eyes, tears of laughter blurred her vision as she tried to scramble back through the fence. Without the threat of the cow breathing down her neck, she got hung up on the barbs and Rob had to help her.

  "Here, let me pick some of those burrs off you," Rob offered once she stood safely on the other side.

  The laughter had at last subsided, leaving her short of breath. "I must look a sight." Cathie put a hand to her disheveled hair and encountered a prickly burr.

  "I think you look beautiful," Rob said huskily from his position near her right shoulder.

  She turned her brilliant jewel-green eyes up to his face, meeting the enigmatic expression in the fire of his dark eyes. No one had ever looked at her like that before—probing, somehow sensuous. Her heart hammered against her rib cage as she watched the hypnotic darkening of the brown eyes. This was just a reaction from the cow chasing her, Cathie told herself, although She didn't really believe a word of it. An ever-reddening flush filled her cheeks as she turned abruptly away from him.

  "You sure found that calf in a hurry," Tad commented, his previously reserved face transformed by a grin that spread from ear to ear.

  "I sure did," Cathie agreed, discovering it was hard to squeeze the words out through the lump in her throat.

  "I think we could use some more of that lemonade, Tad. Why don't you run back to the truck and get it?" Before Cathie could suggest that they all go back, Rob directed his next order to her. "Stand still. I almost have all the cockleburs off your blouse."

  Tad was speeding away and she was left alone with Rob. "Have you got them yet?" she asked, wishing he wouldn't stand so close to her. His nearness seemed to be having the oddest effect on her breathing.

  "There are a few in your hair. I'd better get them out before they snarl these spun-gold locks of yours." There was a teasing quality to his voice that added to the small tremors running through her body. His touch was electric as he carefully worked the spiny burrs free from her hair. She could feel the caressing quality of his breath against her neck, a decidedly pleasing sensation that Cathie closed her eyes tightly against. "You have very beautiful hair, Cat," Rob murmured from somewhere near her ear. "Long hair has always seemed so totally feminine to me."

  Some magic spell had wrapped its charms around her so she couldn't even take offense at his diminutive "Cat." As she felt herself about to capitulate completely to him, Cathie took a firm hold on herself. She was behaving like Andy would.

  "Have you got them all out yet?" she asked in a voice that wasn't as shaky as she felt.

  There was a hesitation before he answered. "Yes, that's the last, unfortunately."

  "Here comes Tad with the lemonade." From her side vision, she had seen the boy approaching. Cathie willingly used him as an excuse to step away from Rob, nervously brushing the hair away from her face. "I can definitely use a cold drink after this."

  After each had taken a drink from the jar, the trio started back to the pickup, with Cathie walking with Tad a step or two ahead of Rob. She was more grateful than she could say when Tad offered her his seat by the window and he took her place in the middle. She was much more at ease with the breeze from the opened window playing over her face as opposed to the burning touch of Rob Douglas. He stopped at their fishing hole and tossed the poles and bait in the rear of the truck while Tad took possession of their catch.

  Duchess had long ago returned to the yard and barked a welcome at their arrival. Cathie was all set to climb in her car and leave, but Rob had noticed her idle scratching of her bare arms and insisted that she come into the house and wash in a solution of baking soda and water to take some of the sting away from the nettles.

  "There's no need. I'll take care of it when I get home," she protested, sidling toward her car door.

  His hand reached out and imprisoned her upper arm. "I insist," he said with a half-smile.

  Her muscles stiffened and his grip tightened in response. It was a test of wills that Cathie would have fought to the finish if Tad hadn't been looking on. The glimmer of battle was in her eyes for Rob to see as she agreed.

  Mrs. Carver was standi
ng at the head of the steps as they entered the house. "There's a telephone call for you," she told Rob. "It's that man from the lumberyard about that material you ordered."

  "Cathie fell in some nettles. I brought her in so she could wash off with some baking soda," Rob explained as he excused himself to answer the phone.

  "Those nettles can really make you itch." The housekeeper clucked her tongue in sympathy, although Cathie had only noticed a mild reaction, probably because her mind had been so occupied with Rob Douglas and escaping his attention. "You wait here on the sun porch."

  It was something of a relief to find the sun porch hadn't changed very much. The furniture was different, with a plumply cushioned, blue-flowered chaise longue near the windows and an assortment of similarly cushioned wicker furniture painted white. But the room ostensibly maintained the same airy atmosphere as when her grandparents had lived in the house. There was even a cribbage board on one of the small tables.

  The door leading into the living room was closed, so she had no way of knowing what changes had been made there, if any. Naturally the kitchen remained the same. Of course it had already been modernized several years ago, which only left the repainting of walls or new curtains.

  Mrs. Carver was back in a matter of minutes, carrying a washbowl, cloth and towel. The solution eased the mild stinging itch as Rob said it would. By the time Cathie had dried her arms with the towel, Rob still hadn't returned, so she asked Mrs. Carver to pass on her goodbyes and scurried out of the house.

  Tad was in the yard playing with Duchess, tossing sticks that she was obligingly returning. "Are you leaving?" Taking the stick from the shepherd and holding it in his hand, Tad studied her sadly.

  "It's time I went home," Cathie nodded, adding with a smile, "but I'll come back another time."

  "Would you like to stay for supper and have some of the fish we caught? I'm sure Mrs. Carver wouldn't mind." There was so much adult politeness in his invitation that Cathie almost wished she could stay to keep bringing out the little boy in him.