Callaghan's Bride

“Yes, but there was more work after that! It’s never going to end,” she wailed. “If those stupid cows don’t stop having calves…!”

“Bite your tongue, woman, that’s profit you’re scoffing at!”

“I know, but—”

“We’re all tired,” he assured her. “And any day now, it’s going to slack off. We’re doing compilation figures for five ranches, you know,” he added. “It isn’t just this one. We have to record each new calf along with its history, we have to revise lists for cattle that have died or been culled, cattle that we traded, new cattle that we’ve bought. Besides that, we have to have birth weights, weight gain ratios, average daily weight gain and feeding data. All that information has to be kept current or it’s no use to us.”

“I know. But we’ll all get sick of pizzas and I’ll forget how to make biscuits!”

“God forbid,” he said, taking off his hat and holding it to his heart.

She was too tired to laugh, but she did smile. She worked her way down the long hall toward her room over the garage, feeling as drained as she looked.

She met Cag coming from the general direction of the garage, dressed in a neat gray suit with a subdued burgundy tie and a cream-colored Stetson. He was just back from a trustee meeting in Dallas, and he looked expensive and sophisticated and unapproachable.

She nodded in a cool greeting, and averted her eyes as she passed him.

He stepped in front of her, blocking her path. One big, lean hand tilted her chin up. He looked at her without smiling, his dark eyes glittering with disapproval.

“What have they been doing to you?” he asked curtly.

The comment shocked her, but she didn’t read anything into it. Cag would never be concerned about her and she knew it. “We’re all putting herd records into the computer, even old Fred,” she said wearily. “We’re tired.”

“Yes, I know. It’s a nightmare every year about this time. Are you getting enough sleep?”

She nodded. “I don’t know much about computers and it’s hard, that’s all. I don’t mind the work.”

His hand hesitated for just an instant before he dropped it. He looked tougher than ever. “You’ll be back to your old duties in no time. God forbid that we should drag you kicking and screaming out of the kitchen and into the twentieth century.”

That was sarcastic, and she wished she had enough energy to hit him. He was always mocking her, picking at her.

“You haven’t complained about the biscuits yet,” she reminded him curtly.

His black eyes swept over her disparagingly. “You look about ten,” he chided. “All big eyes. And you wear that damned rig or those black jeans and that pink shirt all the time. Don’t you have any clothes?”

She couldn’t believe her ears. First the brothers had talked about her lack of new clothes, and now he was going to harp on it! “Now, look here, you can’t tell me what to wear!”

“If you want to get married, you’ll never manage it like that,” he scoffed. “No man is going to look twice at a woman who can’t be bothered to even brush her hair!”

She actually gasped. She hadn’t expected a frontal attack when he’d just walked in the door. “Well, excuse me!” she snapped, well aware that her curly head was untidy. She put a hand to it defensively. “I haven’t had time to brush my hair. I’ve been too busy listing what bull sired what calf!”

He searched over her wan face and he relented, just a little. “Go to bed,” he said stiffly. “You look like the walking dead.”

“What a nice compliment,” she muttered. “Thanks awfully.”

She started to walk away, but he caught her arm and pulled her back around. He reached into his pocket, took something out, and handed it to her.

It was a jewelry box, square and velvet-covered. She looked at him and he nodded toward the box, indicating that he wanted her to open it.

She began to, with shaking hands. It was unexpected that he should buy her anything. She lifted the lid to find that there, nestled on a bed of gray satin, was a beautiful faceted sapphire pendant surrounded by tiny diamonds on a thin gold chain. She’d never seen anything so beautiful in her life. It was like a piece of summer sky caught in stone. It sparkled even in the dim shine of the security lights around the house and garage.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, shocked and touched by the unexpected gift. Then she looked up, warily, wondering if she’d been presumtuous and it wasn’t a gift at all. She held it out to him. “Oh, I see. You just wanted to show it to me…”

He closed her fingers around the box. His big hands were warm and strong. They felt nice.

“I bought it for you,” he said, and looked briefly uncomfortable.

She was totally at sea, and looked it. She glanced down at the pretty thing in her hand and back up at him with a perplexed expression.

“Belated birthday present,” he said gruffly, not meeting her eyes.

“But…my birthday was the first of March,” she said, her voice terse, “and I never mentioned it.”

“Never mentioned it,” he agreed, searching her tired face intently. “Never had a cake, a present, even a card.”

She averted her eyes.

“Hell!”

The curse, and the look on his face, surprised her.

He couldn’t tell her that he felt guilty about her birthday. He hadn’t even known that it had gone by until Leo told him two weeks ago. She could have had a cake and little presents, and cards. But she’d kept it to herself because of the way he’d acted about the cake she’d made for him. He knew without a word being spoken that he’d spoiled birthdays for her just as his mother had spoiled them for him. His conscience beat him to death over it. It was why he’d spent so much time away, that guilt, and it was why he’d gone into a jewelers, impulsively, when he never did anything on impulse, and bought the little necklace for her.

“Thanks,” she murmured, curling her fingers around the box. But she wouldn’t look at him.

There was something else, he thought, watching her posture stiffen. Something…

“What is it?” he asked abruptly.

She took a slow breath. “When do you want me to leave?” she asked bravely.

He scowled. “When do I what?”

“You said, that day I baked the cake, that I could go in the spring,” she reminded him, because she’d never been able to forget. “It’s spring.”

He scowled more and stuck one hand into his pocket, thinking fast. “How could we do without you during roundup?” he asked reasonably. “Stay until summer.”

She felt the box against her palms, warm from his body where it had lain in his pocket. It was sort of like a link between them, even if he hadn’t meant it that way. She’d never had a present from a man before, except the coat the brothers had given her. But that hadn’t been personal like this. She wasn’t sure how it was intended, as a sort of conscience-reliever or a genuinely warm gesture.

“We’ll talk about it another time,” he said after a minute. “I’m tired and I’ve still got things to do.”

He turned and walked past her without looking back. She found herself watching him helplessly with the jewelery box held like a priceless treasure in her two hands.

As if he felt her eyes he stopped suddenly, at the back door, and only his head pivoted. His black eyes met hers in the distance between them, and it was suddenly as if lightning had struck. She felt her knees quivering under her, her heart racing. He was only looking, but she couldn’t get her breath at all.

He didn’t glance away, and neither did she. In that instant, she lost her heart. She felt him fight to break the contact of their eyes, and win. He moved away quickly, into the house, and she ground her teeth together at this unexpected complication.

Of all the men in the world to become infatuated with, Cag Hart was the very last she should have picked. But knowing it didn’t stop the way she felt. With a weary sigh, she turned and went back toward her room. She knew she wouldn’t sleep, no matter how tired she was. She linked the necklace around her neck and admired it in the mirror, worrying briefly about the expense, because she’d seen on the clasp that it was 14K gold—not a trifle at all. But it would have been equally precious to her if it had been gold-tone metal, and she was sure Cag knew it. She went to sleep, wearing it.