Keegan's Lady (37 page)

"Press that against your cheek. It'll take the soreness out," he told her.

Feeling silly, Caitlin did as he instructed. How she was supposed to drink her coffee, eat the plate of flapjacks and eggs Ace had saved for her, and still manage to hold the potato against her cheek, she didn't know. Perhaps it was just as well. She was so nervous, her stomach threatened to turn inside out again if she tried to put anything more than coffee on it.

To her amazement, the poultice soothed the burning sensation along her cheekbone after only a few seconds. "Thank you," she murmured. "This feels wonderful."

Joseph chuckled. "You're welcome." He glanced over his shoulder. "Am I starting to hear an echo in here?" He returned his gaze to Caitlin. "Not that I have anything against being polite, mind you, but are 'please' and 'thank you' all the words you know, or what?"

Esa sputtered and nearly choked on a mouthful of coffee. Ace's expression turned even darker. David suddenly became unaccountably interested in the shape of his cup handle.

"I, um . . ." Caitlin met her new brother-in-law's twinkling gaze. "I'd be happy to engage in a conversation, Joseph, if one of you will be so kind as to pick a subject."

"How about cattle?" Joseph grinned at Ace. "We're in the business now, you know."

"Yes, I know," Caitlin replied.

"The problem is, we don't know shit about cows."

"Watch your language," Ace inserted.

Joseph's smile widened. "Excuse me. We don't know diddly about cows." He arched a blond eyebrow at his older brother. "Better?"

Ace glanced at Esa. "Be sure to put soap on our supply list, Esa. When Ma gets here, we'll be needing a goodly amount."

Caitlin had washed out Patrick's mouth enough times when he was little to realize Ace had just issued a subtle threat. "What would you like to know about cattle?" she asked.

Joseph considered the question for a moment. "One thing I've been puzzling over is how a cattleman can look at a cow, then do a little figuring on a tablet and come up with its weight, almost to the pound."

Caitlin took another sip of coffee. "It's simple, actually. There's a formula."

The teasing twinkle disappeared from Joseph's eyes, replaced by serious interest. "What kind of formula?"

Caitlin felt Ace staring at her as well. From the corner of her eye, he looked impossibly large sitting beside her, the breadth of his shoulders dwarfing her own. Setting down her mug, she said, "Length and circumference, applied to a formula. It really is quite simple. It's most accurate if you take the cow's measurements, but even without a tape, you can make an educated guess and come close."

"Go on," Joseph urged.

She felt four pairs of eyes fixed raptly on her. "If you have paper and pencil, it would be easiest to just show you."

Joseph pushed up from the table and disappeared behind her into the room Ace had identified last night as the unfinished study. He returned seconds later with paper and pencil, which he slapped down on the table in front of her. Setting aside the potato poultice, Caitlin took up the pencil and angled the paper so she could write on it.

"Let's say you estimate a cow's heart girth at seventy-six inches and its body length at sixty-six inches. You multiply seventy-six by seventy-six, then multiply that amount by the body length, and divide that total by three hundred." She did some quick figuring. "The cow would weigh approximately twelve hundred and seventy pounds."

She shoved the paper across the table to Joseph. He studied it for a moment, then said, "Well, I'll be a son of a bitch. That is easy."

"Jesus H. Christ, Joseph. I said watch your language. She's going to think you were raised in a barn." The words had no sooner passed Ace's lips than a flush started to creep up his neck. He slanted Caitlin an apologetic glance. "I'm sorry, Caitlin. Please excuse my brother and me." He cleared his throat. "We seem to have a problem keeping our mouths clean."

Caitlin couldn't help but smile again. With a start, she realized that somewhere along the way, she'd begun to relax. She was a long way from feeling entirely comfortable in the company of these men, but she had to admit, they were all far nicer than she'd expected.

After the formula for estimating cattle weight had been passed around and duly studied by each of the men, the conversation turned to other cattle-raising concerns, such as proper feeding, winter and summer grazing practices, what caused and how to treat colic or scours, and how to save calves with pneumonia. Caitlin had never had her brain picked by members of the opposite sex. In her experience, the male gender tended to regard a woman's knowledge as worthless.

"Having you around is going to be a blessing," Joseph concluded. "We lost three calves last week. None of us knew for sure what the hell was wrong with them. We just stood around with our thumbs up our—"

"Joseph!" Ace cut in.

Joseph folded the paper Caitlin had done her figuring on and stuck it in his shirt pocket. "As I was saying, we just stood around, scratching our heads, and watched the poor things die. A man at the feed store said they had scours and gave me a long rubber hose to siphon broth and gelatin into them." He held up his hands. "I swear to God, that hose was this long. If I'd done what he told me and shoved it down one of their throats, it would have come clear out the south end."

Caitlin gave a startled laugh. "You have to measure from a certain point along the rib cage to tell how far to push the hose," she explained. "It's that long so you can reach the second stomach of any size calf."

Joseph made a mock toast to her with his mug. "Like I said, having you around is going to be a blessing. Next time we come up with a sick calf, we'll let you shove the hose down its throat and out its ass." He gave a low laugh. "Ace got it in about a foot before he got squeamish. I refused to even try. Here I thought that having to castrate the poor things was bad. The next thing we know, some damned fool is telling us to ream them out."

Ace shook his head and slid his coffee cup to the center of the table. "I give up, Joseph. You're hopeless."

"What'd I say now?"

Ace just chuckled and pushed up from the table. "Never mind." Settling a hand on Caitlin's shoulder, he said, "Excuse me, Caitlin. If I plan to pay your brother a visit this afternoon, I'd best get a stew on for lunch. While I'm doing that, I'd like you to choke down at least a few bites of your breakfast."

He spoke kindly, but there was no mistaking that it was an order, just the same. Since her father's death, Caitlin had grown accustomed to making her own decisions, following her own rules. She resented being told what to do by another man, especially since she'd sworn to herself she'd never kowtow to anyone again.

Now that she was married, that vow took second seat to the ones she'd made to God and her new husband. There was no question that she'd do whatever Ace Keegan told her to do. She didn't have the courage to do otherwise. Years of groveling around her father had taught her that much. If it came to a choice between obeying an order or getting cuffed, she always took the path of least resistance. Always would.

She reached for the plate, hating herself for her cowardice, yet unable to help herself. She would eat, even if it made her sick to do so. It was a small thing, filling her mouth with flapjacks gone soggy with butter and honey. Unfortunately, the next time he demanded something from her, it wasn't likely to be so simple for her to oblige.

Even through her dress, her husband's touch made her skin tingle. He had a large, heavy hand, the grip of his long fingers incredibly strong. He wasn't hurting her, but she knew that, with very little effort, he could increase the pressure. There was a nerve right under the shoulder and along the outer edge of the collarbone where the vicious grip of a man's fingers could inflict paralyzing agony. Ace's fingertips rested directly over the spot, gently, almost caressingly, his strength restrained. The threat was there, nonetheless.

She tried to imagine those hands sliding over her body and started to dread the coming night. Sooner or later, he would insist she do her wifely duty. When he did, she wasn't sure she could submissively lie there and allow him the liberties he would want to take.

A mouthful of flapjack hung up in her throat. For a horrifying moment, she thought she might gag. Her shoulders jerked convulsively in her attempt to hold it back. Ace's hand tightened slightly on her shoulder.

"Honey, are you all right?"

The gagging sensation faded as she gulped determinedly to get the food down. Nodding, she forked another piece of flapjack and stuck it in her mouth. Groveling. She was so very good at it. As in all endeavors, one could attain perfection with practice.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Caitlin's heart leaped into her throat when she turned from the cookstove and saw Ace standing in the kitchen archway with her cat clutched to his chest. The entire time he had been gone, she'd been worried about how his talk with Patrick would go. It had been her intent to quiz him relentlessly as soon as he got home, to make certain her brother was still in one piece. Now all thought of Patrick fled her mind.

"Lucky," she whispered. "You brought Lucky?"

Ace hefted the cat in his muscular arms. "He kept telling me he was hungry. I didn't have the heart to leave him, and I figured if you knew he wasn't being fed, you'd probably rather have him here."

Nothing could have been farther from the truth. Better that Lucky miss a few meals than to be thrust into what she felt certain would be an unfriendly environment here. The front of Ace's dark clothing was already covered with yellow hair, which she didn't take as a very good omen. Poor Lucky managed to be a pest even when on his best behavior.

Glancing up into Ace's twinkling brown eyes, she could see that he was hoping she would be pleased that he'd brought the cat back with him. She was anything but. Even after getting kicked innumerable times by her father, the poor cat still hadn't learned to stay out of the way. Around here, there would be four men to dodge.

Caitlin felt sickened at the thought of what might happen to Lucky if he dared to pull any of his naughty tricks in Ace's house. He would very likely get knocked clear into next week by an angry male fist. Caitlin wasn't sure Lucky could survive such mistreatment. Not to mention that it would break her heart.

"Lucky," she said again. Stepping quickly forward, she wrested the plump cat from Ace's arms and cuddled him to her cheek. Flyaway hair drifted up from his fluffy yellow coat to tickle her nose. It was a hopeless situation. Within a day, her poor little kitty would be taking the brunt of four male tempers. She just knew it. "Oh, Lucky."