(Calahan Cowboys 08) The Cowboy Soldier's Sons (4 page)

“It’s actually pretty nice.” He thought the farmhouse was quiet and cheerful. Mostly it was quiet, and that he needed.

“I do not understand.” Kendall shrugged delicately. “This place could use a decorator.”

“I’ll put your name into the hat for Jonas Callahan.”

“Don’t you dare.” She slid off the stool, walking around the kitchen. “You need to come home. Xav’s decided to get married.”

Shaman blinked. “To whom?”

“To some gold digger. Mom is up in arms.”

“What does that have to do with me?” He tossed the dish towel he’d used onto the counter. “Xav’s life is his own.”

“Mom wants you to talk sense into him.”

Shaman shook his head. “Not me. I leave all the gold digger talks in your capable hands.” If Xav’s sweetie wasn’t appropriate in some way, he figured Kendall would have her wrapped up in so much legal tape she’d barely be able to move.

“Mom thinks it would be better coming from you. Older, wiser brother.”

“No, what might have helped is if Xav had ever been able to get out from under your and Mom’s hands. And purse strings. Seeing the world doesn’t hurt a man.” Although sometimes it
had
hurt him, Shaman amended silently. Sometimes it had hurt a lot. But he was tougher for it, too.

Kendall gave him a look that was distinctly displeased. “Shaman, Xav looks up to you—”

A knocking at the door stopped her words, for which Shaman was glad. The last thing he was going to do was get involved in a family issue. He opened the door, his whole day brightening at the sight of Tempest on his porch. “Hi, Cupertino.”

“Hi.”

He didn’t open the door wider, but noted that she had her picnic basket, so dinner was about to be served. And maybe dessert as well. This was good. Lately, he had a sense of unease that everything in their relationship was about to change. She’d seemed a bit distant somehow, and he’d been bracing himself.

It felt great just to look at her, and know she’d come back one more time.

“Your niece came by to see me,” Tempest said.

“Oh?” Shaman didn’t open the door any farther, trying to keep Tempest and his sister apart as long as possible, reluctant for his two worlds to collide.

“Yeah. She thinks I should have a baby,” Tempest said, clearly teasing. From behind him, Shaman heard, “Oh, great, just great,” from Kendall.

“Do you have company?” Tempest tried to look around him. “I saw the car, but I thought it was—”

“It’s mine.” Kendall glanced around Shaman’s shoulder, then gave him a little shove to get him out of her way. She was nothing if not determined. “Is there a baby in that basket? Or are you just looking for a husband?”

“Kendall,” Shaman said, “back off, sister, dear. Come in, Tempest. Join the dysfunctional family.”

Kendall sniffed, checking her out as Tempest entered. Both women were blonde and gorgeous, but there was no doubt that Tempest was taller and more statuesque. Still, neither of them would look bad on a magazine cover.

“Girls, girls, there’s no need to fight. Kendall wants me to go home, and you want to have a baby. Can’t we work things out?”

Tempest put her basket on the counter and began pulling things from it. “Doesn’t sound like it. However, I just happened to bring enough for three.” She looked at Kendall, who was still bristling. “You can join us. That is, if you eat.”

“I eat.” She came over to check out Tempest’s menu. “Is that Brie?”

“It is. And this is a light, crisp white wine, if you drink that. Also, this is sliced avocado on wheat, if you eat avocado. Some caviar, if you know what that is.”

“I do,” Kendall snapped. She took a plate from Tempest and helped herself to the repast. “I guess if you’re stalking a man for a baby, at least you bring decent bait.”

Shaman laughed. “Kendall, you haven’t changed a bit.”

“Oh?” Tempest looked up from making a plate for him. “She doesn’t get out of her cage often?”

He couldn’t help laughing harder. The outraged look on Kendall’s face was too perfect. “Be sweet to my overprotective sister, Tempest. She means well.” He kissed Kendall’s cheek, then Tempest’s. “Now you girls make up, because I say so. And I appear to be the rooster in the henhouse today.”

“Whatever,” Kendall said. “She just has unusual opening lines.”

“You have a big mouth,” Tempest said pleasantly. “I could probably recommend a voice coach for you.”

Shaman happily ate the grub Tempest had brought him. “So, we’re going to have to work some things out. One, I’m not going home, Kendall, no matter what’s happening at the old haunt. And two, I’m not interested in having a baby, Cupertino.” He gazed at both of them, deciding he was a lucky guy to have two ladies that cared about him, sort of. “So what else did our niece have on her mind?”

Tempest shook her head. “Cat is happy as can be.”

“Come on,” Kendall said, munching on the avocado-laden toast. “Don’t hold back just because of me.”

“She said Gage had come over to pound the stuffing out of you,” Tempest admitted to Shaman. “I thought I better check on you and make sure you weren’t incapacitated.”

Both siblings laughed.

“Gage wishes he could pound the stuffing out of you?” Kendall looked at her brother. “What’s got him out of sorts, anyway?”

“I don’t know. This job, I guess.” Shaman didn’t care right now. “Are you staying, Kendall?”

She glanced at Tempest. “No.”

“Don’t go because of me,” Tempest said.

Kendall gave her a sour look. “I’m off to Rancho Diablo to check on my other brother, the one who isn’t in hiding out here in the middle of nowhere, and my darling niece.”

Shaman grinned. “You know, Kendall, if you ever got out of those power suits and let your hair down—”

“I’d find myself propositioning men for babies? I don’t think so.” His sister slid off the stool. “I’m only staying at Rancho Diablo for the night. I have to get back to Hell’s Colony. Mom’s not feeling well, and—”

“You didn’t say anything about that,” Shaman said.

“I shouldn’t have to,” Kendall retorted. “She’s old. She wants her son at home. No big shock, right?”

He recognized guilt as one of Kendall’s weapons, and pulled her to him so that he could rub her hair and muss it up, the way he had when they were children. And later, when they were teens. She shrieked predictably, making him grin. “That felt great,” Shaman said.

Kendall grabbed her purse. “I’m glad it was good for you. If Gage does come to pound your stuffings, I hope he succeeds. Goodbye, Tempest. Was that your name?” Kendall frowned. “It fits.”

Tempest smiled at her and reached out to shake hands. “Tempest Thornbury. It’s nice to meet you, Kendall.”

“Tempest...Thornbury?” She frowned again. “Not the Tempest Thornbury from New York, who used to sing and act on—”

“One and the same,” Shaman said cheerfully, loving the shocked expression on his sister’s face.

Kendall glanced at the picnic basket, then back at her. “No wonder you don’t want to come home, Shaman.”

He laughed. “And you thought I just spent all my time on the roof.”

“I think you’re crazy. But at least if she wants to have a baby, she won’t be after your money, too. I guess.” Kendall shook her head. “Be nice to my big brother, or I’ll send mean critics after you. Love you, Shaman. Please come home soon and give Xav a man-to-man chat. This well-planted daisy is on the level of Gage’s first wife, if you know what I mean. Bad all the way around.”

Kendall left, a smooth slide of silk and high heels moving out the door. Shaman followed, walking her to the car, then making sure she was safely belted inside. “I love you,” he told her. “I’ll come home at some point. I just don’t know when. And no family chats with Xav. It’s his life.”

“Make it soon.” She drove away, and Shaman went back inside.

Tempest was pouring two glasses of wine.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he told her, ignoring the wine and pulling her close.

“Really?” She snuggled against his chest, and Shaman closed his eyes, loving the feel of her in his arms.

“Yes. I miss you.” He kissed her hair, breathing the scent of her in. “You know, they say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

Tempest ground his foot under hers, which didn’t do any damage because of the steel-toed work boots he wore, but he got the message. “So back to this baby talk you and Cat had.”

“It was Cat’s idea,” Tempest said, and he said, “Oh, come now, Cupertino, teenagers don’t think that kind of stuff up. Don’t blame my precocious niece.” He scooped her into his arms. “You carry the wine, and we’ll go talk some more about how babies are made. I want to see where you’re going with this.”

“Soldier, I think you know just fine.” Tempest grabbed the glasses and let him carry her down the hall.

Chapter Three

The funny thing was that once Tempest had mentioned “baby” to him, Shaman found himself actually thinking about it. A lot. Wasn’t a man supposed to run at the thought of a woman who wanted to get pregnant with his child?

He didn’t.

It had been a week since she’d been by with her picnic basket, and he was still mulling over her offhand comment. Maybe she’d been playing around. Maybe the baby suggestion had been her opening line, like sex talk. Sure, that was probably it.

It had worked. He’d made love to her all night.

A spray of water caught him in the face as he wandered around the barn, making him blink with surprise. “Cat! You little devil!”

He ran after his niece, dedicated to the idea of tossing her in the creek for her just deserts. She eluded him, jumping into the creek herself, fully dressed, and just as he began tugging off his boots to land the cannonball of all cannonballs on his niece, he realized they weren’t alone.

Fiona Callahan stood a hundred yards off, grinning at Cat’s square hit on her uncle. He’d bet Fiona had bought the water blaster for Cat. Seemed like something a woman who’d raised six Callahan boys would think was a necessary ingredient to childhood.

“Hi, Fiona,” Shaman said. “Good to see you again.”

“Don’t let me stop you,” she called. “I distinctly thought you were about to cannonball your niece.”

The thought was so tempting. “Best to do that when she doesn’t suspect,” he said, wiping his face, smiling at Cat splashing gleefully in the creek. “I’m sorry she’s not a happy kid.”

Fiona smiled. “Yeah. Miserable.”

“So, are you out here doing Jonas’s bidding?”

“Pretty much.” Fiona seated herself in one of the wrought-iron chairs permanently ensconced in the mushy dirt surrounding the creek. “Actually, Cat pleaded with her dad to let her come out here and see her uncle, and Tempest. I said I’d run her over here. Gage wanted to take Chelsea to the ob-gyn.” Fiona pulled out a wad of knitting from the bright pink plastic bag she carried. “Don’t let us keep you.”

Cat had grabbed a raft and was floating on her back, gazing up at the sky, a kid with no worry that winter was on its way.

“So what does Jonas want you to tell me?” Shaman asked.

Fiona didn’t look up from her knitting, studying it with a furrowed brow. One thing Shaman knew was how to knit, and he could tell she’d dropped a whole ton of stitches from her looped needles. Beginner’s mistake.

“He wants the barn up before the snows come. Probably late October. He wants to bring out more horses by then.” Fiona gave Shaman a kindly smile. “I thought I’d let you know, since you’re probably not aware of the weather in New Mexico.”

“Jonas hasn’t even chosen an architect or a plan.”

“You and Gage are responsible for that.” She shook her head at her knitting, perplexed.

“Jonas didn’t like the first set of plans. He wanted a different architect.”

“You’ll get it figured out.” Fiona sighed at the hot-pink ball of wool. It was a good quality yarn, but if she didn’t quit ratting at it, it wasn’t going to be fit for anything except lining bird nests.

“Here,” Shaman said, “let me see if I can help this along for you.” He sat in the wrought-iron chair next to hers and began unraveling stitches until he got to the place where she’d dropped a few. Then he reknit it. “Is this your first project?”

“It is, and I don’t think I’m much of a knitter.” Fiona looked depressed about that. “I was going to make my friends scarves this year, but it’s not quite as easy as I hoped it would be. Where’d you learn to do that?”

“From my mother. And believe it or not, there are times when knitting soothes the savage beast.” Knowing she was carefully studying his method, Shaman knitted a few more rows for good measure, then handed it back to her. “Okay, Fiona, you know as well as I do that a state-of-the-art barn can’t be ready in a couple of months. Jonas needs to select the architect and the plan. I only oversee the project. Why is he handing this off to me?”

“Because your brother Gage owns a small part of the property now. It was in their agreement. Gage would work here, and in lieu of a paycheck, he’d get some acreage. So Jonas knows Gage has skin in the game. And,” Fiona continued, “Jonas is busy. He’s a father, you know, and we’ve stuck the mayor’s hat on him, too, in Diablo.” She proceeded with the knitting, moving the needles more confidently now that she’d had some tutoring. “Once it starts snowing around here, it can snow for days. Jonas wants everything ready.”

“All right. I’ll talk it over with Gage.” Shaman would do whatever he needed to do to keep the boss man happy. “Have you already been by to see Tempest?”

Fiona nodded. “Cat says you’re thinking about marrying her.”

Shaman blinked. “Uh, that’s news to me.” He wondered if Cat had said the same to Tempest. If she had, he figured he’d never see Tempest again.

“Well, where there’s smoke, there’s fire. That’s what we say around here,” Fiona said cheerfully. “Thanks for saving the scarf. If I get good at this, I’ll make you one for Christmas. Come on, Cat, honey. We’ve got to drive back to Rancho Diablo. I still have to whip up dinner.”

His niece slogged out of the creek joyfully. “This is the most beautiful place on earth,” she said, “besides Rancho Diablo. I guess you float in the creek all the time, Uncle Shaman.”

He hadn’t, not once. “Maybe I should.”