Catching Calhoun (13 page)

“It’s the best thing, until your father feels better.”

Olivia looked up at him. “I don’t want to be a favor to you. A responsibility.”

“You fall somewhere above that, Olivia.”

“I see.” Turning away, she got behind the wheel.

“Follow me,” he told her. “Be sure you buckle up.”

“I will.”

He closed her door, drawing a deep breath. Okay, now he had the whole family under his wing.

He wondered why that made him feel so good.

Yet somehow apprehensive, too. The same way he felt when he was rodeoing, right before his bull crashed out of the gate.

Olivia’s breath caught as they pulled up to Malfunction Junction. The ranch looked like a fairyland with beautiful, twinkling lights and decorations. No wonder her children had been so entranced. “It looks like a Christmas card,” Olivia murmured.

Calhoun’s home looked like the house every cow-girl imagined in her dreams.

“Nice,” Barley grunted as he leaned on her arm. “Quite the spread.”

“Mmm.” Olivia wasn’t worried about that. She was more concerned about the details she had to clear up with her father at some point. When he was feeling stronger, she intended to ask him to tell her the truth.

It was killing her. She couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“Doncha like him, gal?” Barley asked as they went inside the door of what Calhoun called the “second house.”

“Dad, there are reasons people aren’t meant for each other. Calhoun and I have plenty of those.”

“If it’s because of me,” Barley said, groaning a bit as he eased into a lounger below some impressive buck antlers and a large fish on the wall, “me and Calhoun have come to terms.”

“It’s not because of you, Dad,” Olivia said, not wanting to talk about Calhoun right now. Talking about Calhoun was not going to improve the situation. Sometimes, people couldn’t go back in time. Maybe if her dad had been more welcoming up front, maybe if she hadn’t been so afraid of relationships, maybe if Marvella wasn’t her mother— “The world is full of maybes,” Olivia said. “Maybe I should go unhitch Gypsy and put her in her new pasture.”

“You do that,” Barley said. “I’m going to get forty winks.”

“Good idea.” Minnie and Kenny had run up to the main house because Calhoun said gingerbread men were out on the table, freshly baked by Helga, the housekeeper.

To her surprise, Calhoun had already unhitched the trailer from the motor home and was now leading Gypsy out.

“Thanks,” Olivia said. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did. Gypsy said she was ready to go make friends.” He walked her toward a paddock and let her through the gate. The horse turned to look at him once, before ambling off to find a good yellow grassy patch.

“Thank you,” Olivia said, “for everything.”

“No problem.” Calhoun handed her the lead. “I’ve got a baby being born. I’ll see you tomorrow. Call the main house if you need something—Helga can help you.”

Olivia’s gaze followed him as he walked away from her.

Her heart pleaded to go with him, to be included in his world, but she knew the time for that had passed.

C
ALHOUN FELT BAD
leaving Olivia that way, but he’d promised her that this would be a no-strings situation. He’d said he hadn’t brought her here to seduce her. His word on that was ironclad.

“Mason called,” Bandera hollered down from the second-story window. “We’ve got a baby!”

“What is it?”

“A little girl. Valentine’s naming her Annette, because she liked Mimi’s name for Nanette so much.”

Made sense. Women thought that way. He liked the name Minnie, though.

She came peeling down the hall when she saw him.

“Calhoun! There’s a baby born on the ranch!”

He laughed and tugged her hair. “Not on the ranch, honey. Annette was born in a hospital. But she’s part of our ranch now.”

“I want to be part of your ranch,” she said. “And so does Kenny.”

Calhoun smiled. “You two run on down to your Mom now. I think she’s looking for you now that
she’s settled your Grandpa. Take her a gingerbread man. Or woman. Gingerbread person.”

“Okay.” They ran into the kitchen, then went whooping out the back door.

“What are they so excited about?” Archer asked as he came down the stairs.

“The baby. The cookies. Christmas. What aren’t they excited about?” He went to get a celebratory beer out of the fridge before he went to see Valentine’s addition to the ranch.

“Dude, they’re making me excited, and I wasn’t.” Archer grabbed a beer, too.

“They’re easy kids.”

“And the mom?”

“Not so easy,” Calhoun said. “We sort of split our feelings down the middle and called it quits.”

“Too much too soon?”

“Too little too soon. I can’t bring Marvella into the family, and that’s the thing that weighs on my mind.”

Archer shook his head. “It’s a crying shame.”

“Everything’s a crying shame. Like Last not being here for his baby being born. We do the best we can.”

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

“She watched you, you know, walk all the way over here.”

“Who?” Calhoun looked at his brother.

“The little barrel racer. From the window, I could see she never moved from her spot.”

Calhoun shook his head. “It means nothing. We both know where we stand.”

“Do you?”

Calhoun nodded and then put down the beer he’d barely sipped. “Let’s go see the newest member of the family.”

Archer got up to follow him. Calhoun shook his head in silence, thinking of all the things the brothers had gotten wrong lately.

Suddenly, he frowned. “How did Mason take the fact that Mimi’s selling her ranch?”

“We haven’t told him yet. We were waiting for you to come home so we could have a family conference.”

“Thanks.”

“The family that shares each other’s pain, shares each other’s gain.”

Calhoun grunted. “Let me know when there’s been gain where Mason’s concerned. Personally, I think he’s slid back into his old ways.”

“Yes,” Archer said, “but sometimes shocking news about the woman you love brings your slide skidding to a halt.”

“Tell me about it,” Calhoun said dryly.

O
LIVIA SETTLED THE KIDS
into their new bedroom, which they loved. “Gypsy likes her pasture,” she told them as she stroked their hair away from their faces. “She told me to tell you that she wants you to come see her tomorrow.”

“We will, Momma,” Minnie said.

“Momma,” Kenny said.

“Yes, dear?”

“Do you wish we could stay here forever?”

The smile slipped from her face. “Well, no, honey. We have our home in Kansas.”

“Yeah.” Kenny closed his eyes, relaxed under Olivia’s fingertips.

“But we have no cowboys at our place,” Minnie said. Her eyes flew open. “Sorry. I know I wasn’t supposed to say that.”

Olivia smiled. “It’s all right.”

“I meant, I’ll miss Calhoun. And everybody here. They’re awful nice to us,” Minnie said earnestly.

Still worried, even about upsetting her mother. “Go to sleep, honey,” Olivia said. “It’s fine. You relax and have sweet dreams. Everything is fine now. Grandpa’s fine, and Gypsy’s fine, and I’m fine, and you’re fine.”

Minnie closed her eyes, then opened them briefly as if checking to make certain her mother’s gaze still reassured her. Then she sighed and shut her eyes again.

Olivia shook her head. She had told her children that it would be all right, but her definition of all right and theirs were different. She knew exactly what they wanted—and she knew they would never have it. It wasn’t something Santa Claus could bring them—love only came maybe once in a lifetime.

Quietly, she turned off the lamp, leaving the night-light on, and went downstairs. Her father was reading a fishing magazine.

“Howdy,” he said. “I swear I think I’m feeling better already.”

“Really?” She sat down across from him. “Maybe you just needed a vacation.”

“Yeah. Maybe that’s it.” He squinted at her. “It’s nice to have someone else taking care of us for a change. No wonder old geezers move in with their kids when they get old. I feel like I’m living at a palace!”

Olivia shook her head. “Palace pass runs out in a week.”

“Not if you get married to that young fellow,” Barley said slyly.

“Dad!” She was so surprised, she started laughing. “Dad, I can’t get married just so you can live like a retired king. I’m surprised at you.”

“Nah, I was just teasing. It’s not my style anyway.” Barley flipped a page.

“Dad,” Olivia said, not feeling like laughing anymore. “Calhoun isn’t the marrying kind. At least not for me.”

“You told me. I heard ya. I still say if that’s the case, why’s my fanny sitting in his rocker?”

“Well, he’s being nice, for one thing.” Olivia sat up straight. “Dad, why didn’t you tell me Marvella was my mother?”

Slowly, he closed the magazine. “Because I didn’t think it was wise. She didn’t want to be a mother. And I thought that was a bad tail to chase. A woman who doesn’t want to be a mother isn’t likely to change, honey.”

Olivia’s eyes filled with tears. “It’s not that, exactly. I never thought much about not having a mother. I was fine with our life like it was. But…the second Calhoun figured out Marvella was my mother, he completely lost interest in me. I mean, I didn’t exactly help matters myself, but that was the point of no return.”

“How does Calhoun know?” Barley demanded, frowning.

“He figured it out himself somehow.”

“And how did you figure it out?”

“Marvella told me when she came to your room.”

He looked stony. “Busybody.”

“Yeah.” Olivia looked down at her interlaced fingers.

“So you think your cowboy backed up a few paces on you because he doesn’t want Marvella in his family tree? Not that I can blame him, but—”

“There was some lawsuit she brought against them, or helped bring against them, and it had something to do with the baby that is being born tonight. It’s one of the brothers, only he left, and…I don’t know,” Olivia said. “Apparently, Marvella causes lots of problems for the Jefferson brothers.”

“Well, Marvella could cause a rhinoceros problems, but I don’t see why it should affect you. It’s not like either you or Marvella are going to take a shine to the other and start writing each other letters. Or calling to discuss recipes over the phone. What does it have to do with Calhoun?”

“The lawsuit. They wouldn’t want her to think of
another way to get her fingers in the Jefferson pie. If she’s my mother—”

“Ah. And quite a pie it is. I see their situation. Still, you shouldn’t be blamed for your parents, either her or me.”

“I don’t think Calhoun’s worried about you. But financial matters are another issue. No one’s going to threaten their ranch.”

Barley’s eyebrows beetled. “Well, there’s not much we can do to change who you are. I’m real sorry about it, but a fact’s a fact. All you can do is understand how he feels about it and move on, I suppose.” He sighed heavily.

“Yes.” Olivia rose. “I love you, Daddy,” she said. “I’m going to get you some tea. I saw they had some wonderful choices in the kitchen.”

“Thank you,” Barley said simply. But as his daughter left the room, he watched her, a worried pucker between his eyebrows.

“Hey,” Calhoun said the next morning around 5:00 a.m., when he realized Olivia was sitting on the stoop of her motor home. “What are you doing up?”

“I always wake early,” Olivia replied. “Country habit, I suppose. What are you doing up?”

“Ranch habit. Have to take care of the beasts. And I wanted to check on Miss Gypsy. But I can see she’s content.”

“How’s the baby?”

Calhoun grinned. “A Jefferson beauty.”

Olivia nodded. “I would never have thought otherwise.”

“Nice jacket.” He looked at the large plaid wool coat she was bundled into, a coffee cup beside her.

“Thanks. I think it’s yours.”

He smiled. “Looks better on you.”

She looked off into the distance. “It’s quieter here than I thought it would be. So restful.”

He leaned up against the motor home. “Only because just about everybody except Helga is still in bed.”

“No, I mean, it’s quiet. Peaceful.”

“Christmastime silence. The waiting period,” he said. “It’s sure not this way in the spring. The grackles and mockingbirds will get you up before the sun does.”

“Poetic,” she said. “The waiting business, not the grackles.”

“This is my favorite time of year. Sometimes I just sit and look at the house.”

“I couldn’t have guessed from all the lights you have strung. What’s your electric bill like during this most wonderful holiday?”

Calhoun laughed. “Plenty. But worth it. This is the only time of the year where all the family comes back home. Unless there’s a wedding, and everyone definitely comes home for that.”

Olivia looked away. “So,” she said, “my dad’s taken a shine to your fishing magazines. He says he’s totally relaxed.”

“Fishing magazines will do that to a man.” He patted her knee, then got up. “Well, chores are calling. See you later. Let the main house know if you need anything. Breakfast is on at six but if you can’t make it, there’s always something on the sideboard. And the kids are welcome to whatever they want in the fridge. Or cereal. We don’t eat it, usually, except on weekends, when we give Helga a break. Try to, anyway.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“You seem quiet.”

She shook her head with a smile. “Just enjoying the solitude.”

He’d be willing to bet she hadn’t had many times of peace and quiet. He wondered if she knew how cute she looked in his jacket, with her fingers around his coffee mug for warmth. “Enjoy,” he said, heading away.

“Calhoun,” she called.

He turned. “Yeah?”

“I asked Dad. Marvella is my mother.”

Too bad,
he wanted to say. But he just looked at her. “Are you okay with that?”

She shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter. She didn’t want to know me then, she doesn’t want to know me or my kids now. It’s not like my life has changed significantly.”

Yeah, but he’d bet she was still absorbing the shock of meeting her mother face-to-face. He wondered how soon he’d recover if he ever saw his father again. When Mason had finally returned earlier this month, Calhoun had felt as if someone kicked him in the stomach. He was glad Mason was home—but he wanted to beat him on the noggin for leaving. So many feelings had hit him—and probably all the brothers—that they all just ignored the situation, instead of hammering Mason as they should.

He wondered if Olivia had sorted through her feelings yet. “Don’t reckon you’ll ever tell Minnie and Kenny?”

She shook her head. “It wouldn’t be a good thing. They’ve had enough worries. It would hurt them to know she wasn’t interested in them.”

Whew. So many betrayals for such short lives. “Tell them I’ll be back later to get them,” Calhoun said. “We’re going to run out for some fun. With your permission.”

“It’s fine. They’d love that.”

“About twelve.”

“I’ll have them dressed.”

He looked at Olivia one more time, noticing her hair lay softly over the jacket collar and seeing that her lips were a little chapped. He was struck by an urge to do something about that, but a promise was a promise, and one should always keep his promises, especially ones made to himself.

He loped off, still not believing that he could have the incredibly bad luck to fall for a woman who was related to Marvella.

Especially since he couldn’t stop thinking about how wonderful she felt, how sweet she tasted and how beautiful she was naked.

Nudes. Always his favorite thing. But now he only had room in his heart for one nude. His brushes had gone dry; his paint hadn’t been touched. He’d quietly nabbed the portrait he’d started of Minnie and Kenny and planned to finish that in his spare time over the next week.

But what he really, really wanted to do was make love to Olivia again.

That was something that would never happen. It would be like saying that her runaway heart and her family ties didn’t matter. It would be like following his heart over Niagara Falls in a barrel. Caution to the winds.

It would be unfair to her.

But he wanted her, as he’d never wanted anything before in his life.

And maybe that was part of his attraction to her. She was the one thing he couldn’t—shouldn’t—have.

“N
OW THIS
,” C
ALHOUN SAID
that afternoon when he had the kids with him. “
This
is a birdhouse.”

Minnie frowned at the gourd. “It looks like a squash.”

“Yes, but certain birds love to make their homes in them. It doesn’t matter the shape or size of a home—it just matters that the birds find it just right for them.”

“Like our motor home,” Kenny said.

“Exactly.” Calhoun went up the ladder. “Now the important thing to remember is that certain birds feel this is the farthest south they can fly for the winter. So we try to take care of them. We keep bird food out for them, as well.”

“Really?” Minnie moved closer. “If I was a bird, I would never fly away. I would just let you feed me all the time.”

Calhoun laughed, adjusting a wire that a birdhouse hung from. “Now, if you’ll notice,” he began,
“this house is empty. But in a couple of weeks, we may find something totally different.”

“You’ll have to write us and tell us,” Kenny said.

Calhoun hesitated. “Right. Now in the interest of birdie friends everywhere, we only rent these apartments out because we know if we don’t, they’ll create their own place to live and make a mess, or they’ll simply keep flying, looking for the perfect spot. We think we have the perfect spot right here.”

He leaned out to adjust one of the squash-shaped houses, his hand missed, his boot slipped on the rung, and before he knew it, Calhoun slid down the ladder, pinwheeling his arms until he hit the ground.

“You’re hurt!” Minnie exclaimed, grinning down into his face. “Calhoun! You’re hurting!”

“Yes, I am,” he choked out. “It could be any number of things, but I’m starting with general misery.”

Kenny clapped his hands. “This is the best!” Then he peered closely at Calhoun. “Is anything broken?”

“Maybe my spirit,” Calhoun said.

“Is it the Curse?” Minnie whispered.

“The Curse?” Calhoun frowned, trying to concentrate, realizing he was out in the back fields with two kids who were too young to be around a groaning man.

“The Curse of the Broken Body Parts,” she said reverently. “I prayed that’s what you’d get for Christmas.”

“And I thank you,” Calhoun said, grunting as he tried to focus on his fingers. Still on his hand. Check. “But there’s no such thing. It’s just a silly supersti
tion. And it’s completely unnecessary for you to waste your Christmas prayers on me.” He groaned longer for sympathy and also to make certain he still could. God, the pain left him breathless.

“Christmas prayers are never a waste, Calhoun. Try to sit up. Or do you want to cry first?”

“Cry first,” Calhoun said. “Give me ten minutes to adjust my wits.”

“I bet none of your brothers ever fell out of a tree,” Kenny said admiringly. “That was like a swan dive.”

Calhoun’s eyes felt as if they were spinning in his head. “Do swans dive? I’m thinking no.”

Minnie patted his hand. “Do you want us to go get Gypsy?”

“Gypsy?”

“Yes,” Minnie said. “She can drag you home.”

“No, thanks. I just want to lie here for a minute and let the clouds roll by, accompanied by the sweet choral music in my head.”

Kenny patted his shoulder. “When we prayed, we prayed you’d only get hurt a little. Just enough to make The Curse work.”

“There’s no such thing as a curse,” Calhoun said. “Well, there might be, but it’s statistically unproven. It’s a theoretical thing. Or maybe it’s statistically proven, but not verified by an independent counsel.”

“Gosh,” Minnie said. “I don’t think this worked,” she told Kenny. “He was supposed to get hurt and fall in love with Momma. He’s yakking, but not about her.”

“Hmm,” Calhoun said. “You kids have been work
ing on me. I’ll have to keep an eye on you in the future. You’re regular little voodoo-meisters. Witch doctors.”

“Kenny wants to be a doctor when he grows up.”

“Yeah? What do you want to be?”

Minnie smiled. “A mother. And a horse trainer.”

He closed his eyes. “I can see you being a mother. Be a horse trainer first.” He sighed. “You know, I fell because I thought I saw my brother Last.”

Kenny giggled. “In the tree?”

“No.” Calhoun took stock of his body parts again. “I thought I saw a motorcycle drive up, and I quit paying attention to my footing, and down I went.”

For a moment, he closed his eyes, then opened them again. When he could focus, he saw Last’s face peering down at him. It looked like Last, only the earring was gone and the hair looked right. There were no visible tattoos, scars or bones through the nose. Calhoun moaned. “I
am
seeing things. Kids, maybe you better go get your mom or one of my brothers.”

“What are you doing lying down on the job, Calhoun?” Last asked.

“Did I just hear my little brother speak? Minnie, is there a Jefferson hanging over my face?”

“Yes,” she said, “you’re not imagining things.”

“How can you tell it’s a Jefferson?” He wanted to be sure in case he was hearing things, too.

“He looks like you. And he gave us peppermints.”

“Calhoun, can you sit up?” Last asked.

“I don’t know as I care to. If you truly are you, what are you doing back so soon?”

“I have a baby being born. Jefferson men always look after their responsibilities.”

Maybe it was Last with a brain transplant. “Your baby was already born. Yesterday. Congratulations, it’s a girl named Annette. She has a bald head, rubbery lips and eyes so big she looks like an alien. I suspect those attributes will help her take a beauty-queen crown in a pageant someday.”

“She’s not supposed to arrive until tomorrow,” Last said.

“Annette is a punctual lass. I predict she will always be early, but never Last.” Calhoun smirked, pleased with himself.

“Look, Calhoun. I think you may have rung your bell just a bit. Can you sit up or do you need me to get the boys?”

“You can get the boys,” Calhoun said. “I’ll just lie here like a good sacrifice.”

“Yeesh, he thinks he’s a comedian when his brain’s bumping around inside his skull. Kids, will you sit right here and make sure he doesn’t wander off?”

Minnie giggled. “He’s not that bad.”

Kenny dutifully waved his hand over Calhoun’s face.

“I’ll be right back.”

“That’s not what you said before,” Calhoun protested. “Before, you said you didn’t know when you’d be back. That’s not my brother. It’s an im
postor. An impostor!” He looked at the children. “Was my brother just here?”

“Mr. Calhoun,” Minnie said, “could you try to be quiet for just a few minutes? As Momma sometimes tells us, ‘I need to empty out my ears, children, and you keep fillin’ ’em back up.’”

“Sure,” Calhoun said on a sigh.

“O
NLY A SLIGHT CONCUSSION
,” Doc Gonzalez said a few hours later, after the Jefferson boys had come galloping out to where Kenny and Minnie sat keeping watch over Calhoun. They’d picked him up gently and carried him sacrifice-style—his word, not theirs—to a truck. Then they’d sent Minnie and Kenny to the house to be with their mother and taken Calhoun to the hospital for a scan. “He’ll be right as rain in a few days. No strenuous activity for a couple days, though.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Mason said. “Let’s haul him home.”

“What do we do with him, then?” Archer asked.

“Calhoun, you have two choices,” Mason said. “You can stay at the main house, and Helga will look in on you when she has time. Or you can stay in the second house, and be a part of the little family you brought home for the holidays.”

“I’ll go with the little family I brought home for the holidays. At least I’ll get some peace and quiet,” Calhoun said. “And while we’re all here, I propose a family caucus.”

No one said anything. Doc edged to the door. “I’ll
just be seeing patients. If anyone needs anything short of stitches, call me.”

“Mason, Mimi’s selling her place,” Calhoun said from his perch on the examining table.

“What?” Mason exclaimed. “What are you smokin’?”

“Nothing.” Calhoun gingerly sat up. “Not smoking anything, and my head’s not swimming with little birdies anymore. Someone back me up here.”

The brothers all silently nodded, except Last.

“I don’t understand,” Mason said. “How can she sell her family home?”

“Because life goes on,” Calhoun told him. “We all need to get better with our adjustment cycles.” He took a deep breath. “Now the really bad news. Olivia’s mother is Marvella.”

“That is bad news,” Last said. “That’s worse news than when I got Valentine pregnant. That was just a plot I succumbed to. You’re actually considering bringing Marvella into the family
tree.
”

“Thank you, Last, for your support,” Calhoun said on a growl.

Mason crossed his arms. “It is bad luck,” he said, “but I don’t see what difference it makes.”

“You don’t?”

“No.” Mason rubbed at his chin. “It may even come to some good. She may have some loyalty inside her somewhere. We absorbed Valentine into the family. It may be a bit harder, but I’m sure we can absorb Marvella, as well.”