This Calder Sky (38 page)

With his backpack pushed under the table, Ty scooted his chair up. A red-haired woman in a blue dress and white apron stopped to fill his waterglass. She had a pleasant face that reminded him of one of his grade-school teachers.

“Would you like a menu?”

“Yes, please.” For once, his voice didn't crack.

The menu she brought was one of those black vinyl things with the word M
ENU
on front and clear plastic pockets inside so restaurants could insert their own
typed fare. He started to look down the list, then realized here was his chance to ask if she knew Chase Calder. Why wait?

“Ma'am?” He called her back to the table and glanced quickly at the price of a hamburger to be sure he could afford it. “I'll have a hamburger with everything on it and a glass of milk.” He waited until she had it written on her little pad, then nervously licked his lips. “Ma'am, do you happen to know a man named Chase Calder?”

He saw a flicker of surprise in her eyes; then the corners of her mouth were tilted upward in a faint smile. “Yes.”

The first person he asked! He couldn't believe his luck. “Do you know where I could find him?”

She studied him closely for a second, then replied, “He's sitting at the next table—he's the one with the suede suit jacket.” She nodded to indicate which table.

Ty looked over his shoulder, a shiver of apprehension running down his back. He was suddenly and unexpectedly nervous and scared. He could feel his palms start to sweat. “Thanks,” he added quickly to the waitress and stared at the man long after she left the table.

That was his father, the man he had come to find, the one with the carved and rugged features that the sun had tanned to the color of finely grained leather. He had wide shoulders, and brown hair and eyes. Ty had tried to envision him before, but there he was in the flesh!

The waitress brought a plate with a huge steak covering it and a side of fries to the table where his father was sitting. “One charred steak and fries,” she announced as she set them in front of him.

“Looks good, Sally.”

Ty heard the rich timbre of Chase's voice and saw the
smile he flashed the redhead. It changed him. He didn't look quite so hard and aloof; he could be fun. Then the waitress lifted her gaze, curiously glancing his way before she went back to the kitchen.

What was he waiting for? Ty asked himself. Had he come all this way just to look at him? Why didn't he go over and meet him?

His knees felt shaky when he pushed his chair away from the table, and his heart was pounding when he stood up, but he managed to walk the few steps to the table. His father was cutting his steak and didn't notice him standing there. Ty nervously cleared his throat and he looked up.

“Excuse me.” Suddenly Ty couldn't think what he wanted to say. He had rehearsed it all so carefully, and now he couldn't think of the words. He watched his father rest the knife and fork against the plate and study him with cool brown eyes.

“Did you want something?” he prompted.

“I'm Ty Gordon.” The name wouldn't mean anything to him, but maybe he would notice a resemblance. Ty could see it. Oh, it wasn't real obvious, but … the coloring was the same, and they were both tall.

“Yes?” Chase's expression didn't change.

“I wanted to talk to you, sir.” Ty faltered because he didn't know what to call him.

“What about?”

He glanced nervously at the older man sitting at the table with his father and the other customers in the restaurant. “It's personal business, sir.”

“In that case”—he ran a lazy, considering glance over him—“why don't we leave this discussion until later? I wouldn't want to ruin my enjoyment of this steak with business talk. I believe you have some food waiting, too.” He gestured with the point of his knife.

Ty glanced behind him to see the waitress setting his hamburger and milk at his table. “We'll talk after we've eaten.” He reconfirmed and his father nodded.

His gaze narrowed thoughtfully as he watched the tall boy return to his table. Well educated, good clothes, fairly well composed, although he had been nervous about something. Chase began cutting into his steak again.

“What ‘personal' business do you suppose he has?” Lew wondered aloud.

Chase let his glance stray from the steak to the boy. “Probably wants a job. Hitchhiked out here to learn to be a cowboy.” It seemed obvious. “We're always having some fresh-faced kid apply for a job. Half the time he's never seen a horse in his life.”

Forking a bite of steak into his mouth, he began chewing the flavorful, well-done beef. A rancher just didn't have time to train every eager greenhorn who came long. It took too much time, energy, and patience.

Chase finished his meal, had another cheroot with his coffee, and kept an absent eye on the boy. He was sitting slump-shouldered, a little dejected, and refused dessert. Chase watched him carefully count out the money to pay for his meal and noticed only loose change was returned to his pocket. He had already pegged the boy as a runaway, too young to be out on his own, now obviously out of money. He liked the boy's patience; he didn't attempt to resume their “discussion” until Chase indicated that he was ready. The best thing he could do for the kid would be to send him back home.

“You'll have to excuse me, Lew.” Chase pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. “I have to attend to some business.” He reached for his hat and set it on the back of his head. He passed the boy's table as he walked to the cash register. Behind him there was a hurried scrape of a chair leg. An instant later the boy was beside him, almost as tall as he was. When Sally had counted out the change he had coming, Chase
asked, “Is it all right if we use your office, Sally, for a private talk?”

“Go ahead. It isn't locked.” Her gaze ran curiously between them, but she didn't ask any questions.

Her office was the old poker room. Chase led the boy through the door marked P
RIVATE
and wandered to the uncluttered desk, leaning one hip on it and hooking a knee over the corner. The boy stared at him so intently that Chase wondered if there were crumbs on his face.

“What is this personal matter?”

Ty swallowed hard, all his nervousness returning. There wasn't any easy way to say it, so he just blurted it out. “I'm your son.” He waited for the expression to change to surprise, confusion, or angry denial, but it didn't.

“I think you've made a mistake,” Chase said calmly. “I don't have a son.”

“You didn't
know
you had a son,” Ty corrected him. “My mother never told you about me.”

“What's your mother's name?”

“Elizabeth.”

“I don't know any woman by that name.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a narrow cigar, lighting it. “If this is some kind of a joke, I'm not laughing. Or is this some new way to get money from strangers by walking up to them and claiming to be their son?”

“No.” Ty felt a red flush creep into his face. “It's the truth. I am your son. My mother told me so.”

“Then she has me confused with somebody else.”

“No. She told me that my real father was Chase Calder. I didn't know it, either, until a few weeks ago. I didn't know that Dad … Phillip … had adopted me. I thought he was my real father until I found your name listed in the family Bible.” His urgent voice insisted Chase believe him.

“She made a mistake. I don't know any woman named Elizabeth,” he repeated.

“Her full name is Mary Frances Elizabeth.” Ty waited for a sign that the name meant something.

Chase shook his head. “I don't know her.”

“But I came all the way out here to find you!” He was hurting inside, angry and hurt that his claim was being denied. “All the way from California! You are my father!”

“I'm sorry you came on a wild-goose chase. I am not your father.” Chase saw the tears of frustration gathering in the boy's eyes. It was going to be embarrassing for both of them if he started crying. He pretended not to notice as he straightened from the desk and stubbed his cigar out in the ashtray.

“My mother wouldn't lie to me about that! She wouldn't!”

“I'm not saying your mother lied. Maybe some man just told her that he was me and she believed him. I'm sorry, kid, but I don't know your mother. I've never heard of her.” He walked to the door and opened it.

“Well, she knew you!” the boy raged. “She lived here! That's how I knew where to find you!”

Chase stopped, holding the door open with one hand while he turned to frown at the boy. “Where did she live?”

The boy's teeth were clenched together to hold back the sobs. “She said you wouldn't want me, but I didn't believe her. Why didn't you just come right out and say it instead of pretending you'd never heard of her?” he challenged hoarsely. “I don't suppose you've heard of the Shamrock Ranch, either! Or my Uncle Culley O'Rourke!”

Shock went through Chase like a cold knife blade. He was too stunned to react when the boy pushed past him to bolt out the door. But it was just the jolt he
needed. In two strides, he caught up with him, grabbing his arm and jerking the boy around. Chase was angry, because if this was a joke, it was a cruel one.

“Maggie is your mother?” He demanded an answer. “Maggie O'Rourke is your mother?”

The boy's anger matched his own, despite the. tear that slid down his cheek. “I told you! Her name is Mary Frances Elizabeth O'Rourke Gordon! Nobody calls her Maggie!”

“My God.” It was a whispered sound, as something like pain contorted his frown. “How old are you? Ty … is it?”

“Yes.” Ty eyed him warily. “I'm fifteen.”

Some grim, faraway look came to his eyes. “Has it been that long ago?” he mused.

“You did know my mother.” Ty realized Chase was admitting it.

“I knew Maggie O'Rourke, yes.” Chase relaxed his talon-hard hold on the boy and drew in a deep breath. “It's late. You'd better come home with me.”

The moon was out and there were huge clusters of stars in the sky, a canopy of lights over the speeding car. For the first thirty miles, they drove in silence. Chase was staring at the road, driving as if there was no one in the car at all, except himself. Night air spilled in from the opened windows. Chase was resting his left elbow on the curved windowframe and rubbing his hand across his mouth in an absent fashion.

“Does your mother know you're here?”

The question came so suddenly out of the silence that Ty nearly jumped. “No. I think she's probably guessed, though.”

“You ran away?”

“Yes.”

“You mentioned you had been adopted. I guess your mother is married now.”

“She was. My … Phillip had a heart attack six
months ago and died. He hadn't been sick at all. It was a shock … for everybody.” He still felt sick and empty inside when he thought about it.

“What did he do?”

“He was a doctor, a plastic surgeon, and a real good one, too, not some quack.”

“I'm sure he was an excellent physician. Where do you live?”

“In Malibu. We've got about a hundred acres. We keep horses and show them.” Ty looked out the window. There was nothing for miles—no lights, no sign of life. “Where are we going?”

“To the Triple C.” There was a slight hesitation. “That stands for the Calder Cattle Company.” Chase glanced out the window, as if to get his bearings. “We crossed the east boundary roughly ten miles back.”

“How far do we have to go?”

“Another twenty-five or thirty miles.” He heard the boy's low whistle at the implied size of the ranch, something he obviously hadn't known. “What did your mother tell you about me?”

“Nothing, except you lived on the next ranch.”

In the dim light from the dashboard, Chase let his gaze slide to the boy who was his son. The shock of the discovery had worn off and acceptance had settled in. Ty was a fine-looking boy, obviously brave; otherwise, he wouldn't have had the courage to come all this way by himself and confront a father he'd never seen. There was a lot of potential in him. Chase felt a swelling surge of pride. He had a son. A boy of his own flesh and blood. He wanted to shout it. He couldn't help wondering if every father felt such dazed pride.

“I don't know you and you don't know me. I guess we're starting out equal, son.” Just saying the word brought a slow smile to his mouth.

Ty felt a funny choking sensation in his throat and the sting of welling tears in his eyes. He didn't understand
what prompted this rush of emotion. He fought it down because he didn't want his father to think he was a blubbering fool.

“I want to get to know you.” His voice was husky but steady. “That's why I came all the way up here. I'd like to stay for a while?” There was a lilting inflection on the last, changing the statement to a question. Maybe it would be awkward for his father to have him around.

“I want you to stay.” It was a very definite response which left no room for doubt about whether Ty was wanted or not.

“Are you married? Do you have any more children?” Ty asked.

“If you had asked me when I walked into the restaurant tonight, I would have said I had no children. Now I respectfully decline to answer that question.” Wry amusement glinted in the brief glance he sent his son. “As to your first question—no, I have never married.”

“Are you still in love with my mother?” It seemed a logical question to Ty.

Chase breathed in, held it, then let it out. “I don't think it's fair to use the word ‘love' to describe what was between Maggie and me. We were both lonely. We each had a physical need … a desire for something we could enjoy that—for once—would make no demands on us. If any feelings had started to grow, they were torn out by the roots by circumstances neither of us could control.” He looked at Ty. “I doubt if any of this makes sense to you.”