Kidnapped By The Cowboy (C Bar C Ranch Book 2) Page 6

  “She’s right, TJ. You have to stop sometime. Reckon you can’t find a horse you can’t see.” Stinky Dale cleared his throat. He seemed to make a pointed effort to avoid looking at his wife. “Come on in and have supper with us. You can stay the night and take off first thing in the morning.”

  “Dale!” Becky appeared appalled.

  Callie Mae stiffened at the woman’s rudeness. The way she clutched her sons tighter, especially.

  Becky knew about the despicable crime he’d committed, of course. Clearly, she was terrified by it. Callie Mae couldn’t blame her for not wanting TJ in her sights. What mother would?

  But it couldn’t be helped. Circumstances being what they were, Callie Mae had a strong need to partake of the Coopers’ hospitality.

  “We’d be much obliged for your kindness, Becky,” she said, then halted when she heard with her own ears how the appeal sounded. Like she’d tucked her pride in her pocket to ask for help from this family who clearly had little to share.

  When before had she had to lower herself?

  Had she ever?

  Well, as much as she disliked being on the receiving end of someone’s assistance when her own wealth and abilities were formidable, she had to do what she could to get herself back to Amarillo and Kullen.

  And she wasn’t above using the Coopers to do it.

  “Go on, Becky,” Stinky Dale commanded, gesturing toward the door.

  “I’d like a word with you first, Dale,” she said firmly. “Inside.”

  The woman’s reluctance had Callie Mae clutching what was left of her patience. She refused to stand there and beg when she’d already expressed her appreciation for their courtesy. Did Becky really expect her to wait like a meek little puppy while the couple argued the matter in private?

  Callie Mae swung her skirt hems and strode toward the cabin door herself, despite the other woman’s faint gasp of surprise. Callie Mae pulled the door open and held it wide, but stopped short of walking right in.

  “We are an inconvenience, aren’t we?” Her lips curved downward in demure regret. “I do apologize, but surely you understand our predicament?”

  She held center stage among them all, even the pair of young boys who gaped at her in open-mouthed curiosity. Becky seemed at a loss for words, as did her husband, and yet it was TJ’s stiff silence that affected Callie Mae most.

  The bit of light from inside the cabin failed to illuminate his dark shape astride his horse. Failed to give her a hint of his thinking, too, but she could feel his humiliation as if it shot flames at her.

  Something stirred inside her chest. She couldn’t put a name to the feeling, but it was an uncomfortable one, so she didn’t try. He’d made it plain he wanted no part of staying at the Coopers’. She intended to ignore his demand. One of them needed to use the sense they were born with, didn’t they? If he decided to leave without her, well, so much the better.

  She pulled her gaze off TJ and found a bright smile for Becky.

  “Let’s go inside, shall we?” Callie Mae kept her voice smooth, coaxing, and opened the door even wider. “I assure you, our stay here won’t be long.”

  Becky’s dismayed glance flitted over her husband before she squared her shoulders with a nod. “All right.” She nudged her sons forward. “Go on in, boys.”

  She followed them into the cabin without a glance at Callie Mae when she passed. Callie Mae didn’t much care. Once they parted ways in the morning, she doubted she’d see Becky Cooper again, at least not for a good while.

  Callie Mae went inside and pulled the door closed behind her. The simplicity of the cabin smacked into her resolve and sent it teetering. Small, sparsely furnished, the place contained only the main room and a curtained partition, behind which, she assumed, was the couple’s bed. A pair of tiny cots had been tucked in the eaves above, and the crude ladder they needed to get up there stood in a corner.

  The entire structure could fit inside Callie’s Mae’s bedroom back at the C Bar C. If she included her sitting room, that is. How could a family of four live in such tiny quarters?

  Becky turned toward her.

  “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced proper, Miss Lockett,” she said. Twin spots of pink colored her cheeks. Had she known what Callie Mae was thinking? She extended her hand. “My name is Becky Cooper.”

  “Hello, Becky. Please call me Callie Mae.”

  The woman’s slender fingers felt rough as a boar’s bristles. Becky kept her clasp brief, as if she was all too aware of it.

  “These here are my boys, Stevie and Joel.” She took a small step back, allowing Callie Mae to see them better.

  “Hello, boys,” Callie Mae said, noting how much they looked like Stinky Dale with their nutty brown hair slicked down and freckles scattered over their noses.

  Danny had had freckles, too, when he was their age, she suddenly recalled. They’d disappeared as he got older, when his skin learned to tan, and his features showed signs he would grow up to be a handsome young man…

  A dizzying rush of sadness assaulted her. She hated how the grief came when she least expected it. How it had the ability to nearly knock her to her knees. She drew in a breath and fought the sadness down.

  “Are you really a Lockett?” Stevie, the older of the pair, stared up at her, clearly awed by the possibility.

  “I am.” Callie Mae dragged herself out of the grief and channeled her concentration on the boy, allowing herself to be distracted by his four-year-old innocence.

  “Do you live on the C Bar C, too?” he asked.

  She nodded, but an image of her prized Tres Pinos Valley popped into her mind. The home place she wanted for her very own. She’d have it, too, if it wasn’t for that damn TJ.

  “That’s my family’s ranch, yes,” she said.

  “My pa used to work there.” Joel spoke up for the first time, but overwhelmed by a sudden burst of shyness, he grinned and buried his face in Becky’s skirts. Her hand found the top of his head, and she held him gently against her.

  “I remember,” Callie Mae said, amused.

  “I’m gonna work there, too, when I’m growed up.” Stevie, clearly the braver of the two, declared. “Just like my pa.”

  “We’d be proud to have you.” Callie Mae spoke with utmost seriousness for the boy’s sake. “He was a fine cowboy when he worked for us.”

  “Are you gonna have supper here?” Joel asked, peeping at her.

  Her gaze moved to him. “Would that be all right?”

  “Yeah.” He buried his face again.

  Callie Mae’s gaze kept moving toward the wooden table which occupied a good portion of the living area. Four plates lay neatly on top; beside them, four forks. All in readiness for the meal the Coopers had been ready to eat.

  In the center sat a bowl of fried potatoes; next to it, a plate holding a piece of sliced beef. A cast-iron skillet waited on one of the stove’s burners, reminding Callie Mae how her arrival with TJ had interrupted Becky’s preparations.

  “Is there anything I can do to help you finish making supper?” Callie Mae asked.

  “It’s finished.” Becky kept her glance direct, though her small swallow revealed what it cost her to admit it. “You’re not stayin’ at the C Bar C, Miss Lockett.”

  Unwittingly, Callie Mae’s gaze returned to that lone piece of meat, that inadequate bowl of potatoes, meant to feed four mouths.

  Now, with hers and TJ’s, they’d have to feed two more.

  Callie Mae’s brain scrambled for the words to redeem herself for the mistake she’d made. To appear less selfish in someone’s eyes who clearly believed that Callie Mae had more than she could ever need. Maybe more than she deserved.

  She failed.

  As if she knew her point had been taken, Becky shifted her attention to her children, saving Callie Mae from the indignity of having to defend herself for having the privileges that came from being a Lockett.

  “Go on and wash up, boys. We’ll eat as soon as your father co
mes in.” Her glance flitted back to Callie Mae. “You might as well do the same. I’ll find a clean towel for you.” But before she left, her gaze reluctantly lifted, reminding Callie Mae of how wind-blown she must look with the tendrils of hair that had escaped from beneath the brim of her hat while she chased after TJ’s horse.

  Wistfulness crossed Becky’s expression.

  “You have mighty fine taste in millinery, Miss Lockett,” she said softly. Then, as if she’d revealed too much, the wistfulness disappeared, and she strode toward a pine chest for the towel she’d promised.

  Callie Mae caught her reflection in a small mirror hanging above an enamel basin of water. The glass could barely hold her image, the brim of her hat being so wide, the brown-and-gold striped bow outrageously flamboyant, the frothy ostrich feather blown crooked. The cabin’s lantern light failed to glamorize her dress, too. The tan checks appeared dull, the silk trimming insignificant.

  Never had Callie Mae felt so out of place. She looked it, too.

  No wonder Becky resented her.

  Had it been only this afternoon that Callie Mae had enjoyed a lavish dinner at the Amarillo Hotel? With succulent roast beef and asparagus, with a dessert so rich she couldn’t finish it? Surrounded by the smells of expensive imported cigars and brandy in crystal glasses on starched tablecloths, enjoying the company of men who made more money in a week than Stinky Dale could hope to make in an entire year?

  Her meeting with the prominent entrepreneurs determined to build an exposition on her land.

  TJ Grier and his damned horse had yanked her out of her high-society world with all its frivolity and responsibilities. He’d plunked her into his desperate one with no thought of all he’d forced her to leave behind.

  And then there was Kullen.

  The truths she needed to find about Danny, too.

  She bit her lip. And now, here she was, taking food from a family who could barely make ends meet.

  Maybe she should’ve listened to TJ, after all…

  How was this all going to end?

  Chapter Six

  TJ glared at the closed door. The irritation built in him that Callie Mae had taken matters into her own hands and helped herself to the hospitality Stinky Dale offered without a care for what TJ wanted. She’d left him behind, still in the saddle and damn near shaking from frustration.

  Now what was he supposed to do?

  “She always was a hard one to hold down,” Stinky Dale said, watching him. “Like smoke in a bottle.”

  TJ grunted. That about covered it. Smoke in a bottle. From the time he’d known her, Callie Mae had been like that. Elusive. Out of his reach. Untouchable.

  Time only made it worse. His troubles after Danny’s death, being thrown in jail, his reputation ruined, hell, she was more out of his reach than ever. Damned if he could see things changing anytime soon.

  “Slide down off that horse, TJ, and cool your saddle for a spell.” Stinky Dale pulled out a rolled cigarette and rooted for a match. “We got some catchin’ up to do.”

  TJ knew he expected an explanation. Figured he was entitled to one, besides. TJ couldn’t leave without Callie Mae, though it’d serve her right if she had to fend for herself out here. But truth was, he didn’t want her out of his sight. He needed her too much.

  Chasing after Blue was going to have to wait. The stallion couldn’t run all night any more than they could, and finally, TJ dismounted. Stinky Dale struck the match and lit a lantern hanging on a rusty nail, then stroked the match flame against the end of his cigarette. Wordlessly, he handed the quirley to TJ and lit a second.

  The cowboy squatted on his haunches in the grass. TJ joined him, drew in deep on the tobacco and exhaled slow. He lifted his hat and ran a tired hand through his hair before settling the Stetson back onto his head.

  The lantern light revealed his old friend hadn’t changed much. Still wore his hair slicked down with some kind of bear grease. Still wore the cologne that smelled like a bad mix of spices. Still had skin tanned and lined from the sun and hands rough from hard work.

  Just like when they wrangled together on the C Bar C. A lifetime ago.

  Only a few years older than TJ, Stinky Dale had moved on since those days. Bought his own place, made himself a family. TJ had nothing—except one beautiful horse.

  Now he didn’t even have that.

  He squinted an eye over the dark horizon and fought the pain from it. Silence fell. Familiar. Oddly comforting. Stinky Dale was being patient, but TJ sensed his reservations, the questions he needed to ask.

  Once, TJ could’ve trusted Stinky Dale with the truth he kept locked tight inside. Could he still? Or would the cowboy be suspicious? Resentful, like his wife?

  “She’s got supper waiting for you,” TJ said quietly.

  “Talkin’s more important right now.”

  TJ nodded, but still the words wouldn’t come. Blamable pride, he supposed, that had him nursing some resentment of his own that the cowboy could believe him capable of the crime he paid dearly for.

  “Reckon Becky’s packing a grudge against you,” Stinky Dale said, rubbing his chin. “Guess I ought to apologize for that.”

  “Don’t,” TJ said. He hadn’t appreciated her behavior, but he could understand it.

  “Those boys mean the world to her.”

  “They should.”

  Stinky Dale blew out a breath. “It’s just that folks have been speculating about you, TJ, and—”

  “Doesn’t mean I’d hurt anyone,” he said roughly. “Do you really think I would?”

  “You ’fessed up to the crime that killed Danny McClure, didn’t you?” he shot back. “That tells me you would.”

  TJ clamped his mouth shut, and the decision he’d made back then tore through him. A thousand times, a million, he’d questioned the wisdom of what he’d done.

  The cabin door swung open, and Stinky Dale’s oldest popped his head out.

  “Hey, Pa. You comin’ in to eat?” he demanded.

  Stinky Dale stayed hunkered. “Tell your ma to start without me, son. I’ll be in directly.”

  “Okay.” The door slammed shut again.

  TJ stayed hunkered, too.

  “Fine-looking boy,” he said, trying for a change of subject. A safer one, at least. “Both of them are.”

  “So how in blazes did you get within spittin’ distance of Callie Mae tonight without her burnin’ some powder on you?” Stinky Dale demanded, unswayed.

  “I didn’t give her a choice.” TJ frowned, remembering.

  “Yeah?” Stinky Dale looked skeptical.

  “I put a gun to her head.”

  Even now he couldn’t believe he’d done it.

  “Damn, TJ,” Stinky said, staring.

  “I know.”

  His gaze lifted to the cabin window. He found her, framed within the panes, her attention held by something Stevie was telling her while they sat at the table, eating supper.

  She’d taken off her hat, and the room’s golden light glinted on her hair, turning the strands a rich shade of cinnamon. She wore the mass swept back and piled into a loose roll on her head, making him curious about its thickness, its weight, how it would feel sliding through his fingers. If all that glorious hair had become too heavy for its pins.

  His gaze tarried on the wisps that had escaped and curled against her temple, her cheek. A result of their ride, he knew. Fast and frantic from Boomer’s. TJ had a strong longing to smooth those wayward strands from her face and tell her how much he regretted being forced to do what he’d done.

  How desperate he’d become.

  To find Blue. To find the truth.

  To keep her with him, so he could.

  “Guess you forgot who she was when you held that gun to her head, didn’t you?” Stinky Dale accused softly.

  TJ pulled himself out of his thoughts, like a boot from sticky mud.

  “Callie Mae?” he asked.

  “She’s a Lockett, TJ.” Stinky stressed the word, as if TJ
had never heard it before. “She’s got more power in her little finger than you and me will ever have our whole lives.” He let the words soak in. “When she gets that inheritance her grandma left her, she’ll have more money than just about everyone else, too.”

  “You think I give a damn about any of those things?”

  Stinky’s lips thinned. “Reckon you never did, leastways when we wrangled together on the C Bar C. But you should.” He took a quick puff off his cigarette. “Besides, you spent time in jail for killin’ her brother. You for sure didn’t forget that when you put a gun to her, did you?”

  TJ glowered. Had he ever heard a question more ridiculous? “No, Stinky. I didn’t.”

  “Why’d you do it, then?”

  “Because she’s being duped and doesn’t know she is, that’s why. And I was framed for Danny’s death,” he blurted.

  Stinky Dale went still. Smoke curled from the end of his quirley, and he squinted through the hazy swirls.

  “You tellin’ me there’s more to the story?” he asked.

  “A hell of a lot more.”

  But once the words were out, TJ turned hesitant. Except for Boomer and Maggie, he’d never voiced his suspicions that Kullen Brosius was somehow responsible for what happened to Danny with anyone but Sheriff Dunbar and Harvey Whelan, the only lawmen he dared to confide in. It’d been a good long while since he’d seen Stinky Dale. TJ wasn’t sure he could still be trusted—or would believe anything TJ had to say.

  “I’ll listen, if you want to talk,” the cowboy said quietly.

  TJ’s defenses cracked. Stinky Dale always did have the ability to read his mind. Seemed the years hadn’t changed that. Most times, he agreed with what TJ was thinking, which was how they’d gotten to be good friends.

  TJ wanted to trust him and knew that Stinky Dale would listen to him now, when it mattered most. TJ needed to be assured he wasn’t crazy.

  Even if it seemed he was.

  “The night Danny died, Carina and Penn threw a party for Callie Mae.” He figured the beginning was the best place to start. “She’d been in Europe for a spell, and they wanted to welcome her home.”