The Circle Eight: Caleb (3 page)

Eva’s expression fell. “Will you stay for longer than a meal?”

“I only have a few hours. I have orders, Eva. I shouldn’t have even stopped but I wanted to see you all.” Caleb’s tongue nearly tripped over his lies. Guilt gnawed at him but he pushed it aside. He had nothing to feel guilty about. Life was not centered on a small ranch in eastern Texas.

She stared at him, her gaze all-knowing and assessing. He forced himself not to squirm in his seat. For God’s sake, he wasn’t an eight-year-old boy in trouble for filching cookies.

“One day you will realize the importance of family,
hijo
. And then you will know what you have lost by running from here.” With that piece of wisdom, she rose and helped the girls clear the table.

Nicholas, Matt and Hannah watched him, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and excitement. He sipped at his coffee, waiting for the inevitable questions. He remembered being Nicholas’s age and having the same insatiable need to know more about Ranger Brody Armstrong, his brother-in-law, now retired to live life on a farm with the impossible Olivia.

“You killed any men lately?” The question burst from Nicholas’s mouth and both Matt and Caleb laughed. Hannah smacked her husband.

“That’s not an appropriate question for the dinner table,” she admonished with a sideways glance at the twins, who were watching the adults as though it were the most interesting puppet show ever.

“Why don’t you two go check on the kittens in the barn? We want to make sure they don’t wander away and get lost.” Matt’s suggestion energized the girls into motion and in a blur of three-year-old energy they raced out the door. He grinned at Caleb. “The barn cat had a litter a couple weeks ago. They’ve been watching over it like a couple of mother hens.”

“Now can I ask about the killing?” Nicholas sounded impatient.

Caleb shook his head. “Sorry, Nick, I ain’t had occasion to kill anybody since the last time you saw me. Sometimes I get to knock them around a bit though.” The critters he dealt with were usually too stupid to put up much of a fight after the first punch. More than a few occasions, he had to put them out to finish the job but he got it done, no matter what.

“Boring except maybe the punching part. I can do that anytime with my brothers though.” Nicholas made a face.

“It’s never boring, but I’d much rather use my fists than my gun. I don’t like killing any more than the next man. Taking a man’s life will haunt you for a mighty long time. Possibly the rest of your life.” Caleb knew that firsthand, but he wasn’t about to discuss it with his younger brother. There were better stories to be told, ones that didn’t involve a river of blood and the stench of death.

“Listen to him, Nicholas.” Hannah patted his hand. “Being a Ranger is dangerous work and definitely not one where you have a clean bed or a hot meal every day.”

Nicholas patted his stomach. “I do have a liking for regular meals, especially ones Eva cooks.”

“One day you will find a woman who will cook you tortillas instead of me.” Eva ruffled his hair. “I won’t be cooking for you when you’re an old man.”

“I ain’t in no hurry to find a woman.” Nicholas backed away from the table and Eva’s touch. “Women are trouble, no offense to any of you, and with a house full of Graham females, there ain’t no need to add more. We’re already outnumbered.”

Hannah smiled. “I have a feeling this baby is a girl too.”

“Dammit, that’s another confounded female.” Nicholas sidestepped Eva’s smack for cursing. “I’ve got to get back out and finish my chores. With Javier and Lorenzo gone, I won’t get finished until late anyway.”

Caleb got to his feet. “You need a hand?”

Matt joined them. “We’re checking all the calves we cut in March and counting the heifers that are pregnant.”

“I can count.” Caleb didn’t know what possessed him to offer to help with chores. If he did go out with his brothers, it would be hours, full dark, before they finished. He didn’t want to be there the entire afternoon but now that the words were out of his mouth, he couldn’t get them back.

“Nah, we can manage. Will you be gone when we get back?” Matt caught his gaze, a bit of wistfulness in his eyes. “Off to bigger and better things?”

“Nothing is bigger than a ranch in Texas.” Caleb grinned but he didn’t feel it. “I have orders to evict a squatter on government property.”

“Sounds riveting.” Hannah rose to her feet with a groan. “I hope you will come back before this baby turns a year old.”

Caleb pushed back the guilt her remark brought. “I will be back soon.”

“Dare I ask for a date?” Hannah pulled Caleb into a hug and he allowed himself to hug her back.

“I’ll be back this summer. Is that close enough to a date?” He had no idea what was in store for him in the next three months but he could try to plan on coming back to the Circle Eight.

“No, but I’ll take it.” Sadness painted her expression. “We miss you, Caleb.”

He nodded, not knowing what to say. In a way he missed them but in other ways, he was glad to be out in the world on his own.

“You need to lay down,
hija
.” Eva took Hannah’s arm. “The baby will pop out if you don’t get your rest.”

“Pop out? The baby’s going to pop out?” Matt’s panic made his brothers chuckle. “Shut up, both of you. Not funny.”

“
Pobrecita
.” Eva ignored the men and led Hannah to the master bedroom.

“Having the twins was hard on her but she’s strong. Eva says there’s only one baby this time but I worry.” Matt stared after his wife, love and concern evident in his gaze.

“She’ll be fine.” Caleb didn’t know if that was true or not but it seemed like the right thing to say.

“C’mon, Matt, we’d better get moving.” Nicholas hugged Caleb briefly. “Next time stay for more than tortillas and beans.”

Caleb punched his arm hard before his younger brother escaped out the door with a grin, slapping his hat on his head. Matt shook his hand with a serious expression on his face.

“Be careful out there. Don’t forget you’re part of the circle here. It’s not whole until we’re all together.” What Matt didn’t say was louder than what he did. His older brother walked out the door with less speed than Nicholas.

“He talks about Benjy sometimes.” Rebecca appeared at his elbow, her gaze pensive. “I think he’s hoping one day the smallest Graham will come walking up to the house.”

Caleb rarely thought about Benjamin, the smallest brother who had disappeared five years earlier when their parents were murdered. While they had searched endlessly for him over the last four years, Olivia and Brody had helped other children. Yet the only information they had been able to uncover was that he was sold to a ranch in Texas.

The Republic was a big place, bigger than anyone really knew. A little boy with no family to protect him could disappear in a blink. Caleb had spoken to his Commander about looking for Benjamin twice, both times he had been turned down. Cold trails were low priority when there were dangerous situations to handle. Although the squatter wasn’t dangerous, he could be if he was unwilling to vacate government-owned property.

“He feels responsible.” Rebecca continued. “He’s the oldest and we were all his to watch and then he let that awful Jeb Stinson on our ranch. I think Matt will always look for Benjy.”

“You’re likely right. He takes everything he’s responsible for pretty serious.” Caleb hadn’t had a conversation with his younger sister in years. She was a thoughtful kid, pretty perceptive too.

“I think we all do.” She turned to him and he saw just how beautiful Rebecca would be as a woman. She had their mother’s heart-shaped face and blue eyes, with the rich brown hair nearly all of them had.

“The curse of being a Graham.” Caleb grinned but she didn’t smile back.

“We are your family whether or not you want to remember us. They all miss you, especially Matt. You need to remember that when you’re off rescuing dirt from blacksmiths.” With that, Rebecca disappeared from the kitchen, leaving him alone with Elizabeth.

“Are you going to yell at me too? Maybe you can make up for Liv not being here.” Hell, why had he even come? He knew they would make it difficult.

She turned from the sink and shook her head. “No I wasn’t planning on it, but I can if you like.”

Caleb crossed his arms. “I’ll pass on the yelling, thank you.”

“Then dry the dishes now that you’ve run Rebecca off.” She pointed to the stack of plates waiting. “Then you can go away with a soothed conscience because you helped out at least a little.”

“Damn, when did all my sisters become so hard?” He chuckled and picked up the towel. “I’ll help, Elizabeth.”

Her mouth kicked up a little at the corner but she didn’t smile. They stood together, doing the dishes side by side, until they were done and put away. Caleb was grateful for the quiet to end his visit. His family didn’t disappoint him and he couldn’t wait to be on his way.

Chapter Two

Aurora Foster wiped the sweat from her brow with her sleeve and pressed the bellows again. The fire crackled and breathed from the intense heat. It was nearly hot enough to put the iron in the forge. She stirred the embers with the poker and pressed the bellows again.

The wooden flaps were open to catch the spring breeze. It floated through the opening, carrying away the smoke from the forge. The beautiful weather made for ideal conditions for a blacksmith.

She had twelve more tools to make for the Garza hacienda this week. Pablo Garza paid well and she desperately needed the money. Any day she expected someone with a gun and an attitude to appear on her doorstep and demand every last penny her husband owed. Damn the fool for dying and leaving her in debt. He was a good-hearted man but couldn’t add two and two together.

She’d married Horatio after her parents had died when she was sixteen. She had been desperate and grief-stricken. Theirs had been a marriage of convenience but she’d grown to love him over the next five years. He supported her work as a blacksmith. Her father had taught her how to use the forge from the time she could hold the hammer. That was the moment she ceased answering to Aurora and became Rory, a blacksmith’s apprentice.

Now she was as successful as she could be, given Horatio had died from a horse kick to the head without telling her what he’d been up to. He owed quite a few people and they all came to her doorstep with his marker in hand. Life had been hard the last year and there had been letters from the Republic of Texas too. Ones she didn’t understand so she’d burned them.

Rory wasn’t a genius, but she was smart enough to run a business and pay back the money her husband had borrowed. What she didn’t know was what he did with all of it. They lived modestly. There were no luxuries to be had and she worked every day at the forge.

One day she might discover his secret, but if she never did, life would go on and so would she. The deadline for the tools loomed and she had to get at least three more done this afternoon. She adjusted the leather apron that hung on her neck—it had been her father’s—and picked up the lumpy piece of iron with her tongs.

She plunged the iron into the forge, then pumped the bellows. After waiting the appropriate amount of time, she flipped the iron over and pumped the bellows once more. It became a rhythm to her, a dance she knew well enough to repeat without thought. The fire burned white hot and she closed her eyes for a moment to escape the heat.

Soon enough the iron was hot enough for her hammer. She pulled it from the forge with the tongs and grabbed her hammer. The ringing of the hammer hitting the iron and the anvil was as familiar as any other sound in her life. She used the cross peen of the hammer to lengthen the iron, crafting what would be a chisel.

Rory put it back in the forge to heat again, repeating the process over and over until she was satisfied with the shape and size of the chisel. She plunged the iron into the cold water, the hiss of the super-heated metal akin to an animal caught in a trap. The forging was done. Next would be the sharpening of the blade and the filing of the rough edges.

“Rory?” Eloise Jensen called out from outside.

“I’m out in back. Come on around.” Rory pulled off her gloves. No doubt she was covered in soot but Eloise had seen her dirty before.

Eloise was a plump, round-faced blonde woman with merry blue eyes and consistently red cheeks. She had married Sven, the livery owner in town. He sent Eloise with horses to Rory to reshoe them all the time. Although Rory was not a true farrier, she took as much work that came her way. The horses didn’t complain either.

“There you are.” Eloise waved her hand in front of her face. “You’re busy. I can come back later.”

“No, no it’s fine. I just finished a chisel. I can let the forge cool down for a spell while we have a visit.” Rory didn’t have many female friends. Many of the women in town and the surrounding ranches only dealt with her when they needed their pot handle fixed or if they needed a new kitchen knife. Otherwise they avoided her.

Rory accepted the fact women didn’t understand why she would choose, and enjoy, blacksmithing. She had tried to explain it to the little girls she played with as a child, that the forge and the anvil called to her. The hammer was an extension of her arm. She considered herself an artist, and could see the finished product when she began with that lump of iron.