Long, Tall Texans: Calhoun (4 page)

By the time she got to the house, she felt sick all over, but a plan was beginning to form in her mind. If Calhoun thought she was giving in that easily, he was in for a shock. She could have a good time, too, even if she didn't have a date. By golly, she'd get out and find herself one!

Abby ate a solitary meal. Justin was called to the phone shortly after they got home, and he told Maria to put his dinner on a tray so he could eat it while he watched the movie he'd bought. Calhoun had come home to change for his date, and Abby had made a beeline for her room and stayed there until after he'd left. She didn't even care how it looked; she was sick at the thought of Calhoun with some faceless blonde. That was when she knew she had to break out, even if just for the evening.

She hadn't started out to rebel. But she couldn't sit home and watch the movie with Justin. She'd never hear a word of it; she'd just brood about Calhoun.

So she got dressed in slacks and a blouse and brushed her hair. Then she called Misty.

"How do you feel about helping me rebel?" she asked the older girl.

Misty laughed huskily. "You're lucky my date canceled out Okay. I'm game. What are we rebelling against?"

"Calhoun caught me at the revue last night and dragged me home," Abby told her. "And today he... Well, never mind,

but he set me off again. So tonight I thought I'd like to sample that new dance bar in Jacobsville."

"Now that is an idea worthy of you, Abby. I'll pick you up in fifteen minutes."

'I'll be ready."

Abby ran downstairs, giving no thought at all to how Calhoun was going to react to this latest rebellion.

Well, he had his woman, damn him. Horrible pictures of his bronzed body in bed with the faceless blonde danced in front of Abby's eyes. No, she told herself, she wasn't going to let Calhoun's actions hurt her like that. She was going to get out and live!

She poked her head into the living room. Cigarette smoke drifted in front of a screen on which men in uniforms were blowing each other up.

"I'm going out with Misty," she told Justin.

He glanced up from where he was sitting. His long legs were crossed over the coffee table, and he had a snifter of brandy in one hand and a cigarette in the other. "Okay, honey," he said agreeably. "Stay out of trouble, will you? You and Calhoun are hell on the digestion lately, and he doesn't seem to need much excuse to go for your throat."

"I'll behave. Misty and I are just going to that new dance place. I'll be good, honest I will. Good night."

"Goodnight."

He went back to the bullets and bombs, and she closed the door with a sigh. Justin was so nice. He never tried to hog-tie her. Now why couldn't Calhoun be like that? She felt murderous when she considered Calhoun's possessiveness. She was entitled to a life that didn't revolve around him. There was just no sense in wearing her heart out on his taciturn indifference. None at all!

Misty came ten minutes later. Thank God, Calhoun didn't reappear. With a sigh of relief, Abby ran out to Misty's little sports car, all smiles, her breaking heart carefully concealed from her all-too-perceptive girlfriend.

It was Friday night, and the Jacobsville Dance Palace was booming. It had a live Western band on the weekends, and while it did serve hard liquor, it wasn't the kind of dive Calhoun had forbidden her to frequent Not that she cared one whit about his strictures, of course.

Abby glanced apprehensively toward the doorway, across the crowded room where cigar and cigarette smoke made a gray haze under bright lights. The band's rhythm shook the rafters. Couples danced on the bare wood floor, the men in Western gear, the women in jeans and boots.

"Calhoun won't know you're here, I tell you." Misty laughed softly. "Honestly, it's ridiculous the way he dogs your footsteps lately."

"That's what I keep telling him, but it does no good at all," Abby replied miserably. "I just want to get out on my own."

"I'm doing my best," Misty assured her. "Any day now I'll have some new apartment prospects for us to look at. I've got a real estate agent helping."

"Good." Abby sipped her drink, trying not to notice the blatant stare she was getting from the man at the next table. He'd been eyeing her ever since she and Misty had walked in, and he was giving her the willies.

He looked about Calhoun's age, but he lacked Calhoun's attractive masculinity. This man was dark headed and had a beer belly. He wasn't much taller than Abby, but what he lacked in height he made up in girth. He had a cowboy hat pulled low over his small eyes, and he was obviously intoxicated.

"He's staring at me again," Abby muttered. She lifted her gin and tonic to her lips, wondering at how much better it tasted every time she took a sip. She hated gin, but Misty had convinced her that she couldn't sit at the table drinking ginger ale.

"Don't worry," Misty patted her arm. "He'll give up and go away. There's Tyler! Hi, Ty!"

Tyler Jacobs was tall and rangy-looking. He had green eyes and an arrogant smile, and Abby was a little afraid of him. But he didn't carry his wealth around on his shoulders as some rich men did, and he wasn't a snob, even though the town of Jacobsville took its name from his grandfather.

"Hello, Misty. Abby." Tyler pulled out a chair and straddled it. "What are you doing here? Does Calhoun know?" he asked quietly.

Abby shifted restlessly in the chair and raised her glass to her lips again. "I am perfectly capable of drinking a drink if I want to," she said, enunciating carefully because her tongue suddenly felt thick. "And Calhoun doesn't own me."

"Oh, my God," Tyler sighed. He gave Misty a rueful glance. "Your doing, I gather?"

Misty blinked her long false lashes at Tyler, and her blue eyes twinkled. "I provided transportation, that's all. Abby is my friend. I'm helping her to rebel."

"You'll help get her killed if you aren't careful. Where's Calhoun?" he asked Abby.

"Out with one of his harem," she said with a mocking smile. "Not that I mind, as long as he's out of my hair for the evening," she added carelessly.

"He dragged her out of line at the male revue last night at the Jacobsville theater," Misty explained. "We're getting even."

Tyler's eyes widened. "You tried to see a male strip show? Abby!"

Abby glared at him. "Where else do you expect me to get educated? Calhoun wants me to wear diapers for the rest of my life. He doesn't think I'm old enough to go on dates or walk across the street alone."

"You're like a kid sister to him," Tyler said, defending his friend. "He doesn't want you to get hurt."

"I can get hurt if I like," Abby grumbled. Her eyes closed. She was feeling worse by the second, but she couldn't let on. Tyler was as bad as the Ballenger brothers. He'd have her out of here like a shot if he thought she was sick.

"What are you drinking?" Tyler asked, staring at her glass.

"Gin and tonic," she replied, opening her eyes. "Want some?"

"I don't drink, honey," Tyler reminded her with a slow smile. "Well, I've got to pick up Shelby at the office.

She had to work late tonight Watch out for Abby, Misty."

"Of course I will. Sure you won't stay and dance with me?" Misty asked.

Tyler got up, his eyes worried as they trailed over Abby's

wan face. "Sorry. I don't usually have to get Shelby, but her car was in the shop today and they didn't finish with it."

"Lucky Shelby, to have a brother like you," Abby mumbled. "I'll bet you don't have a kamikaze pilot fly behind her when she goes to work, or a gang of prizefighters to walk her home after dark, or a whole crew of off-duty policemen to fend off her suitors...."

"Oh, boy," Tyler sighed.

"Don't worry," Misty told him. "She's fine. She's just miffed at Calhoun, that's all. Although how anybody could get upset at a dishy man like that being so protective—"

"Dishy isn't a word I'd use to describe Calhoun if he finds Abby like that and thinks you're responsible for it," Tyler cautioned. "Have you ever seen him get angry?"

Misty pushed back her curly hair uncomfortably. "Justin's temper is worse," she reminded him.

Tyler lifted an eyebrow. "Don't be so sure. They're cut from die same cloth." He touched Abby's shoulder.

"Don't drink any more of that." He gestured toward her drink.

"Whatever you say, Ty," Abby said, smiling. "Good night."

"Goodnight."

He waved and left them there.

"I wonder what he was doing here," Misty said, puzzled. "Since he doesn't drink."

"He may have been looking for somebody," Abby murmured. "I guess a lot of cattlemen congregate around here on the weekends. This stuff is pretty good, Misty," she added, taking another sip.

"You promised you wouldn't," she was reminded.

"I hate men," Abby said. "I hate all men. But especially I hate Calhoun."

Misty chewed her lower lip worriedly. Abby was starting to tie one on, and that wasn't at all what Misty had had in mind. "I'll be back in a minute, honey," she promised, and got up to go after Ty. She had a feeling she was going to need his help to get Abby to the car, and now was the time to do it.

The minute she left, the burly, intoxicated man who'd been

watching Abby for the past hour seized his opportunity. He sat down next to her, his small, pale eyes running hungrily over her.

"Alone at last," he drawled. "My gosh, you're a pretty thing. I'm Tom. I live alone and I'm looking for a woman Who can cook and clean and make love. How about coming home with me?"

Abby gaped at him. "I don't think I heard you?"

"If you're here with a girlfriend, you've got to be out looking for it, honey." He laughed drunkenly. "And I can sure give it to you. So how about it?" He put his pudgy-fingered hand on her arm and began to caress it.

"Nice. Come here and give old Tom a kiss...."

He pulled her toward him. She protested violently, and in the process managed to knock her drink over onto him. He cursed a blue streak and stood up, holding her by the wrist, homicide in his drunken eyes.

"You did that on purpose," he shot at her. "You soaked me deliberately! Well, let me tell you, lady, no broad pours liquor on me and gets away with it!"

Abby felt even sicker. He was hurting her wrist, and there was a deathly hush around them. She knew that most people didn't involve themselves in this kind of conflict. She couldn't fight this man and win, but what else was she going to do? She wanted to cry.

"Let her go."

The voice was deep, slow, dangerous and best of all, familiar. Abby caught her breath as a tall, heavily built blond man came toward her, his dark, deep-set eyes on the man who had Abby's wrist. He was in a gray vested suit and a dressy cream-colored Stetson and boots, but Abby knew the trappings of civilized company wouldn't save this ruddy cretin if he didn't turn her loose. Abby had seen Calhoun lose his temper, and she knew how hard he could hit when he did.

"What's she to you?" the drunken cowboy demanded.

"My ward."

Calhoun caught the smaller man's wrist in a hard, cruel grasp

and twisted. The man groaned and went down, holding his hand and cursing.

"Hey, you can't do that to Tom!" one of the man's cronies protested, standing up. He was almost Calhoun's size, and a lot rougher-looking.

"Want to make something out of it, sonny?" Calhoun asked in a soft drawl that was belied by the dark glitter in his eyes.

"You bet I do!"

The younger man threw a punch, but he was too slow. Calhoun's big fists put him over a table. He reached down and picked up the Stetson that the man's blow had connected with and looked around the room as he ran his fingers through his thick, silky blond hair.

"Anybody else?" he invited pleasantly.

Eyes turned the other way, and the band started playing again. Then Calhoun looked down at Abby.

She swallowed. "Hi," she said, and tried to smile. "I thought you were out on a date."

He didn't say a word, but his glittering eyes told her every single thing he was feeling. He wouldn't admit for a minute that his dinner date was strictly business, or that he'd expected something like this after the argument he and Abby had had. She was giving him fits, but he didn't let his expression show how concerned he really was.

"Did you see Misty?" she asked hopefully.

"Lucidly for her, no," he said in a tone that could have boiled ice water. "Get your purse."

She fumbled on the chair beside hers for it, weak and shaky. He had a gift for intimidating people, she thought, watching him slam his Stetson over his eyes at a slant. The men who were picking themselves up off the floor didn't seem anxious to tangle with him twice. It was amazing, she thought, how unruffled he looked for a man who'd just been in a fight.

He caught her arm and propelled her out of the bar and into the night air. Misty and Ty were standing just outside, both looking faintly apprehensive.

"It wasn't all my fault, Cal," Misty began in a subdued tone.

Calhoun eyed her coldly. "You know what I think of this

so-called friendship. And I know the reason behind it, even if she doesn't."

Abby was puzzled by that remark. The cold, level look in Calhoun's dark eyes and the uncomfortable flush in Misty's pretty face didn't add up.

"I'd better go get Shelby,' Ty said quietly. "I was going to offer to take Abby home, but under the circumstances I'm a bit relieved that you came along," he told Calhoun.

"If Justin finds out you were in the same room with her, there'll be hell to pay," Calhoun agreed. "But thanks all the same." He turned Abby toward his Jaguar. "I assume you rode into town with your girlfriend?" he added.

"We came in Misty's car," Abby murmured. She felt weary and a little sick. Now she really looked like a child, with all the concerned adults making a fuss over her. Tears burned in her eyes, which she was careful to keep hidden from the angry man beside her.

"Honest to God," he muttered as he put her into the passenger seat and went around to get into the driver's seat. "I don't know what the hell's wrong with you lately. Last night I find you in line at a male strip show, and tonight you're getting drunk and eyeing strange men in bars!"