The Chisholm Brothers:Friends, Lovers... Husbands?

by Janis Reams Hudson

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” Ralph said to his wife as Melanie filled glasses with ice.

  “I can’t believe you’ve been gambling,” Fayrene said softly.

  While Melanie poured tea, her father stared down at his folded hands and blushed.

  Good for you, Mama, Melanie thought. Maybe her mother could reach Daddy, when Melanie had been unable to.

  “Okay,” Melanie said, giving them their glasses and taking a seat between them. “What’s this deal you made?”

  Ralph stalled by taking a long, deep gulp of tea. Finally he put the glass down and swallowed. “I made a deal with Bruno.”

  “Oh, God,” Fayrene cried. “You owe money to somebody named Bruno? I suppose his last name is Corleone or Gotti or something.”

  Ralph rolled his eyes. “His last name, Miss Smarty-Pants, is McGuire. Bruno McGuire. Now just hush up, both of you, and let me tell this. Sometime late tonight somebody’s going to drive a pickup or truck or something in and park it in the pasture behind the barn. A little while after that, Bruno and some of his people will come, split up the cargo and leave. In a couple of weeks they’ll do it all again, and my debt will be wiped out.”

  Melanie did not like the sound of this. “What kind of cargo has to be driven in and split up in the middle of a pasture, in the middle of the night?”

  “I don’t know,” her father said. “I didn’t ask, and you won’t, either. We don’t need to know. All we need to do is stay in the house until it’s all over with.”

  “What kind of trouble are you getting us into with this deal?” she demanded.

  “I’m keeping my kneecaps whole,” he barked back. “Don’t give me any grief on this, little girl. Just keep quiet and go along with it.”

  “What are the two goons outside for?” she demanded, far from satisfied with his response.

  Ralph shifted in his chair and looked decidedly uncomfortable. “George is going to wait here so he can call Bruno when the shipment arrives.”

  “What about the other one?”

  Ralph flushed. “That’s Little Donnie.”

  Melanie leaned sideways to look out the door at the two-hundred-fifty-pound ball of lard leaning against the front fender of his sedan. “Little Donnie?”

  “Yeah, well. He’s gonna park out across the driveway and make sure nobody drives in except the truck they’re expecting.”

  “Oh, that’s great.” Melanie slapped her palms onto the table. “That’s just great. In other words, we’re prisoners here. In our own house.”

  “Now, little girl, don’t—”

  George tapped on the back door. “Hi, folks. Mind if I come in?” Without waiting for an answer, he pulled open the storm door and let himself in.

  Melanie glared at her father. Anger didn’t come close to defining the fury she felt at his bringing these goons into their home. Neither did terror. For all she knew, these guys were here to kill them once they got what they wanted from them.

  The first problem arose when Melanie announced she was going to the barn to give Jack’s ankle another treatment.

  George had other ideas. “Sorry, miss, but you’ll want to stay in the house for the rest of the day.”

  “Look—George, is it?”

  “That’s right.” The man grinned like an idiot.

  He might very well be an idiot, Melanie thought, but he had mean eyes. And a windbreaker. Gray slacks and blue shirt, and a navy blue windbreaker. On television, the only reason a guy wore a windbreaker when it was warm enough to do without one was to hide a gun.

  She shook her head, certain she was being ridiculous. Even if he did have mean eyes.

  “Well, look, George,” she said. “I’ve got a lame horse out there who needs care. If I don’t get out there and tend to him once more today, then three times again tomorrow, he could become permanently lame. Since none of us wants that to happen, I’ll just go take care of him and be back in a half hour or so.”

  George motioned to her parents. “Then we’ll all go with you.”

  Melanie glanced down at the man’s shiny, black patent-leather shoes and smirked. “Suit yourself.” She’d have to be sure and find a nice fresh pile of manure for him to step in. Too bad there weren’t any cattle at the barn. A juicy cow patty would be just the thing.

  George proved adept at stepping around the horse droppings in the barn, but there was nothing he could do to avoid the bits of straw and alfalfa that floated through the air and clung to his once-clean slacks.

  And Melanie made sure to splatter a little water on his patent leathers.

  She started to give him a nice dousing with liniment, but decided against it when she realized she might very well be stuck in the same house with him for hours.

  She would like to send him packing. Getting herself and her parents into the house and locking George out would be simple enough. But her father had asked her to behave. He wanted to do this deal to wipe out his debt. Since she was the one who had cut off his cash, rendering him unable to pay up, she owed him her cooperation. And her loyalty.

  Back in the house Melanie scrubbed liniment from her hands for the third time that day.

  “You did good with Jack,” her father told her. “It’s not a bad sprain. He’ll be good as new in another day or two.”

  “You think so?” No one knew more about taking care of animals than her father.

  “Yep.”

  The phone rang. Ralph picked it up. “Caleb. Howdy. Sure, she’s here. Hold on.” He held the phone out toward Melanie. “It’s Caleb, for you.”

  The sound of his name. That was all it took to make her pulse flutter in her throat. “I’ll, uh, take it in my bedroom.”

  After she picked up the extension in her room and her father had hung up the one in the kitchen, she closed her bedroom door.

  “Your dad came back,” Caleb said.

  “That’s not even the half of it.” She forgot, for a moment, that she was angry with him and the reason for it. Instead she remembered only their friendship, the safety and security she felt in being able to tell him anything and know he would never judge her. “Mama came home today, too.”

  “She’s all right?”

  Melanie chuckled. “Well, she’s healthy.”

  “You must be relieved.”

  “I would be more relieved if Daddy hadn’t brought two creeps home with him.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “I wish. I—”

  Her bedroom door flew open.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded harshly.

  “You need to come out here with the rest of us.”

  “Listen, you creep.” Oh, this man had way overstepped. “You get out of here right this minute and I won’t rip out your tongue. But you so much as look at my bedroom again and I’ll peel the hide off your face with my teeth.”

  On the other end of the phone line Caleb stiffened. One of her father’s goons was in her bedroom?

  “Melanie?” he said. When she didn’t answer, he repeated himself, louder.

  All he heard was her sharp “Get out.” Then, incredibly, the line went dead.

  Alarmed, Caleb hung up and redialed. The phone rang a dozen times without an answer.

  Maybe he had misdialed. He tried again, his palms starting to sweat. He didn’t like this. Not one damn bit.

  Still no answer.

  “That cuts it,” he muttered. He grabbed his hat and started out the front door. “Something’s going on over at the PR. I’m headed over there.”

  Melanie gaped, outraged. George had not only unplugged her bedroom extension from the wall, but he’d surprised her with a hard yank that jerked the phone from her hand.

  “Hey!”

  Before she realized what he was doing, he’d rushed through every room in the house—there weren’t that many of them—and gathered up all the phones. There weren’t that many of those, either; Melanie’s room, the kitchen and one on the desk in the den. He put them in a pile
on the floor next to the sofa and announced there would be no more calls in or out, without his approval.

  “Did you agree to this?” Melanie hissed at her father.

  Ralph flushed and looked away. “Just go along with it. It’s only for this one night.”

  “And another in a couple of weeks. What about the time in between? They’re going to trust us all that time, but not tonight?”

  Her father opened his mouth, then shut it and shook his head, saying nothing.

  Caleb broke every posted speed limit between the Cherokee Rose and the Pruitt Ranch. On the way he tried twice more to call her from his cell phone. There was still no answer. In frustration he tossed the phone onto the seat beside him and gripped the steering wheel.

  He barreled up the PR’s gravel driveway and had to slam on the breaks when a brown sedan pulled out from the yard and blocked his way.

  What the hell?

  A short, round man—really round, Caleb thought—climbed laboriously from the car and waddled over to the pickup.

  Melanie had said her dad had brought home two creeps. One was, or had been, in the house. Was this creep number two?

  “Hi there,” the man said.

  “Afternoon,” Caleb offered, barely refraining from swearing. “Mind moving your car?”

  When the fat man chuckled, everything on him from cheeks to belly quivered. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. The family’s having a private evening together. They’re not accepting visitors just now. You’ll need to come back tomorrow.”

  “Not accepting—no, never mind. I have business with them that can’t wait. I’m asking you, politely, to move your car.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed, and Caleb saw the hard meanness in them. “And I’m telling you, politely, you’ll have to leave.”

  Caleb glanced toward the house, tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “I guess we’re through being polite. Tell you what. You move your car and you can keep that nice pretty paint job. Because I’ll tell you, I’m going up to the house, whether you move your car or not.”

  “Whoa, now,” the man said jovially. “No need to make threats, mister.”

  “Threats?” Caleb bared his teeth in a parody of a smile. “That wasn’t a threat, that was a fact.” Without giving the man time for a reaction, Caleb spun his steering wheel to the right and pressed the gas pedal. There was almost enough room between the front bumper of the sedan and the barbed-wire fence a few feet beyond the driveway.

  Caleb would be damned before he would take out a neighbor’s fence. His pickup could be repaired. He didn’t much care what happened to the sedan. He drove through. The force of the sturdy pickup shoved the sedan aside with an audible crunch and screech of metal on metal.

  The fat man bellowed in outrage.

  Caleb ground his teeth and slung gravel all the way to the back door of the house. Ralph Pruitt’s pickup was there, along with a car with Arizona plates. Fayrene’s, he assumed.

  The fat guy was huffing and puffing his way after him, waving his arms and hollering.

  Caleb got out of the pickup and strode purposely to the back door, intent on getting to Melanie as fast as he could. The door opened before he could reach for the knob.

  The first thing he saw was the gun.

  Chapter Seven

  When Melanie saw Caleb walk through the door, urged along by George’s gun, her breath caught. She wished, desperately for his sake, that he had stayed home. She was chagrined, maybe even a little ashamed, to admit to herself how glad she was that he hadn’t. Just having him in the same room steadied her, made her feel safer, more secure.

  In that moment when their eyes met and she read his concern for her, she forgot that she wanted him at arm’s length. She wanted him close. Wanted his arms around her.

  But that couldn’t be. Not here, not now, not in front of her parents and the creep named George.

  In all honesty, even if she and Caleb were alone— especially if they were alone—she wouldn’t let him get close enough to put his arms around her.

  * * *

  Caleb stood in the familiar kitchen where he’d had breakfast that very morning and silently cursed himself. Damn his hide. He’d known there was trouble at the PR, yet he’d been stupid enough to leave his pistol and his cell phone in the pickup abody Chapternd walk right into a trap.

  The man with the gun was tall and lean, with olive skin and dark eyes that held that same mean look as the fat man’s had.

  Caleb took a step forward and stopped. “Mrs. Pruitt, it’s good to…” Mercy sakes, she sure looked… different. Even with a gun on him he had to struggle to keep from staring at her chest. “… see you.” He gave her a nod. “Mr. Pruitt.” He nodded at Melanie’s father. “Melanie.” He nodded to her, too. “Is everybody all right?”

  “We’re fine,” Melanie said.

  Caleb eyed her. “I knew you were mad when I left earlier, but I didn’t think you were this mad.” He cut his gaze toward the gun still pointing in his direction.

  Ralph Pruitt cleared his throat. “George, Bruno didn’t say anything about guns.”

  “Let’s all go into the living room,” George said, “and have a seat.”

  Caleb gave serious thought to tackling the man. If it had been just the two of them he might have done it. But that gun could easily go off. Melanie or one of her parents could get hurt.

  He went to the living room with the others, as ordered. The first thing he noticed was the pile of telephones beside the sofa.

  “All we have to do,” George told them, “is watch a little television and behave ourselves. Ralph’s new business partner has a little business to transact later on tonight. Little Donnie and I are just here to make sure nobody gets in the way and gets hurt. See? Simple. Now, sit.”

  And so they sat. Ralph, Fayrene and George took the sofa, leaving the recliner and wingback for Melanie and Caleb.

  “I told you not to come back,” Melanie muttered.

  “What do you think of my new shape, Caleb?” Fayrene asked.

  Melanie choked.

  Ralph made a funny squealing sound.

  George hooted.

  Caleb chuckled and winked. “Looking good, Mrs. P. Real good. New hairdo?”

  “Ha!” Fayrene laughed hysterically and slapped her knee.

  Ralph scowled. “You blind, boy?”

  “New hairdo,” Fayrene shrieked. “That’s a good one, Caleb.”

  “Good grief.” Melanie snatched the remote control from the coffee table. “Give me that.” She called up the satellite-TV on-screen program guide to look for something to watch. There wasn’t a person in the room she was currently interested in talking to. They were all lunatics.

  “I don’t suppose anyone wants to tell me what this is all about,” Caleb said.

  “The less you know,” George told him, “the better off you are.”

  “Now why,” Caleb said lazily, “did I know you were going to say that?”

  After a long silence, during which everyone looked at everyone else, looked everywhere but at the gun in George’s hand, Ralph finally cleared his throat.

  “What brought you here, Caleb?” he asked.

  Caleb glanced to Melanie, but her expression was closed to him. Caleb shrugged. “I was on the phone with Melanie and we got cut off. I tried calling back several times, but got no answer. I was concerned.”

  Ralph nodded and looked down at his hands. “It’s good of you to come all the way over here to check on us.”

  “You should know,” Caleb said with another glance at Melanie, “that except for a couple of hours today, I’ve been here since Monday night.”

  Ralph bobbed his head another couple of times, then snapped to attention, his eyes going wide. “Here?” he demanded. “Since Monday?”

  “That’s right.”

  George hooted again. “This is getting good. What happened?”

  Melanie’s expression wasn’t closed now, it was disgusted.

  “Alone?”
Fayrene asked carefully. With a hint of craftiness that made Caleb wince. “You and Melanie have been here alone, together, since Monday?”

  Caleb leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “That’s right.”

  “Caleb.” Melanie’s voice was almost a wail. She flopped back in her chair and threw an arm over her eyes.

  “This is better than a soap opera,” George offered with an eager grin.

  Melanie lowered her arm and snarled. “Shut up, George.”

  “Well, well.” Fayrene arched an eyebrow. Speculation danced in her eyes as she glanced from Caleb to Melanie and back again. Then she jabbed an elbow into her husband’s side. “Where have you been since Mon day?”

  “I had business,” Ralph said defensively.

  “So you went off and left our daughter alone with Caleb?”

  “I didn’t know Caleb was here.”

  “No,” Caleb agreed. “But you knew you were leaving her here to do the work of three or four men.”

  Ralph gnawed on the inside of his jaw and eyed Caleb. “Did you get the hay in?”

  “Daddy!” Melanie cried, outraged. “You ought to be apologizing for putting a neighbor to this much trouble, not asking how much work he got done.”

  “We got the hay in,” Caleb said. “And the fence repaired. Oh, and we put a gate in between the PR and the Rose down in the middle of one of your pastures.”

  Ralph blinked. He looked as if he was having trouble taking everything in. Caleb couldn’t say he blamed the man. A bookie’s goons bringing him home for some kind of shady business to keep his kneecaps whole, his wife showing up with a new… shape. His neighbor moving in with his daughter and making decisions regarding his ranch.

  In the same place, Caleb would be having a little trouble taking it all in, too.

  About an hour after dark George had to go to the bathroom. Because he would not leave the others alone, he took Ralph with him.