Chance McCall (3 page)

Marcus glared. He didn’t like problems.

A knot began forming in the pit of Jenny’s stomach. Just the look on his face told her this was going to make him angry.

“So?” Marcus asked. “She seems okay now. What happened? Jenny, what did you do?”

Chance bit his lip. Damn this man! Why did he always assume that the problem originated with Jenny? Why couldn’t he see that she was upset?

“She didn’t do anything but defend her honor,” Chance answered, and then sucked in a sharp breath, willing himself not to jeopardize his job. He needed this security. It was all that kept him going. But he also knew that Jenny had even less security than he. Money or not, Jenny was on her own, too.

“What do you mean?” Marcus asked.

“I mean that a boy made a pass at her. It upset her…it scared…”

The phone rang. Marcus grabbed it as if it were a lifeline.

“Hello?” he said, and motioned for Chance and Jenny to wait.

Jenny sighed and leaned her forehead against the wet, steamy back of Chance’s coat. This was not going well. It was to be expected.

Marcus nodded to himself, shuffled through a stack of papers, and then began making notes.

Chance stared, dumbfounded by the lack of interest Jenny’s father had shown in what had happened to her. He felt her fingers sliding beneath his coat sleeve, searching for his hand. He cupped the small hand in the warming strength of his own and squeezed gently.

Marcus looked up, remembered that Chance and Jenny were still waiting, and sharply ordered the caller to hold. He covered the mouthpiece and said, “Jenny, go change your clothes. You’re dripping. Chance, thanks for picking her up for me.” He waved them away and went back to his conversation.

Chance cursed softly beneath his breath and let Jenny lead him from the office.

“It’s all right,” she said. “He’s busy. And I’m fine.”

“Well, I’m not. Come on, honey. Let’s go get you some dry clothes and then find that hot chocolate. We’ve got a phone call to make to Melvin Howard’s folks. And when I’m through talking to his father, Melvin will probably have to eat his supper standing up.”

Jenny smiled. The pain that was coiling inside her heart began to unwind. Chance would take care of it. She should have known not to worry. And the thought of Melvin, pimples and all, getting a whipping for what he’d done made her giggle.

“Yeah, and I bet he has to eat soup. His mouth will be too swollen to chew. I really got him good, didn’t I?”

Chance fought the urge to push his way back into Marcus’s office and shake him. “Yeah, honey. You sure did. You got him good. Now come on, let’s go find Juana.”

They went down the hallway toward the kitchen, hand in hand, dripping mud and water with every step.

A string of firecrackers exploded, dancing its way across the dusty driveway with a string of little boys following along behind. Shrieks of excited laughter erupted from them.

It was the Fourth of July, and the Triple T Ranch was holding its annual barbecue. Half the populace of Tyler was present along with all of Marcus Tyler’s employees and their families.

It was a triple celebration, because it also marked the founding of the Tyler Ranch in Tyler, Texas, and the birthday of Jennifer Tyler, Marcus’s only heir.

Sixteen years earlier, Marcus Tyler had purchased a section of Texas land with the help of the Federal Land Bank. He’d installed his pregnant wife, Lillian, in the run-down ranch house and headed back to town for some groceries and supplies. He’d returned to find Lillian in the last throes of labor. Marcus delivered his daughter, Jennifer, as capably as he’d done everything else in his life, and less than three weeks later his wife had died of complications resulting from childbirth.

“Ooowee, Marcus,” Conrad Hancock said, “that little girl of yours sure has grown up. It won’t be long before you’ll be beating the boys off the front porch with a stick. Just look at her. She’ll have the young bucks in a fight for sure before the day’s over.”

The group of men standing beneath a shade tree, visiting with Marcus, laughed. Each of them began offering words of advice and warnings.

Marcus turned and stared at his daughter, seeing her for the first time through the eyes of his friends. He was suddenly uncertain as to how he would deal with a budding woman. Leaving her to her own devices didn’t seem as wise as it once had. All sorts of implications presented themselves as thoughts of boys and teenage problems took root in his mind.

He frowned. The iced tea warmed in his hand as he stared at his daughter, who was perched on the top rail of the fence. She wasn’t paying any attention to the young men who’d begun a game of horseshoes on the other side of the yard fence, trying to impress her with their prowess. She was watching Chance, but her father thought nothing of it. She always seemed to be within shouting distance of his foreman.

Marcus smiled at a carload of late arrivals and waved at the tall man who was busily directing traffic to the designated parking areas. Since he’d made Chance foreman he’d had all kinds of time to devote to his chief goal, thinking up new schemes to make more money.

“Say, Marcus,” Hancock added, “that boy of yours, that foreman there.” He pointed with his cigar. “Old Thurman here wants to know who his people are.”

Marcus shrugged. It was not something he’d ever wondered about, and it suddenly struck him as strange that he had not. In all the years that Chance had worked for him, not once had he asked for time off, or to go home for a visit. Surely he had family somewhere?

“I don’t know,” Marcus answered. “But I can find out. Chance, come here a minute,” he yelled.

Chance turned toward the sound of his boss’s voice and waved an acknowledgment as he directed another carload of latecomers toward the proper parking area.

The group of well-to-do ranchers and oil men standing with Marcus beneath a large shade tree watched Chance’s arrival into their midst with varying degrees of calculation.

His long legs moved with unconscious grace as he dodged the laughing kids and crowded buffet table. He carried his strength and power well. More than one of the men recognized the hard, hungry look in his eyes and the grim line around his mouth. In earlier days they’d looked the same, unyielding and unforgiving.

“Boys,” Marcus said, as Chance came to a halt beneath the tree’s welcome shade, “I’d like for you to meet Chance McCall, my right-hand man and, as of last month, my new foreman.”

“Gentlemen,” Chance said, touching his forefinger to the wide brim of his gray Stetson. He knew these men represented power in oil, horses, cattle, even the stock market. His keen gaze missed none of the looks he was receiving.
What in hell is this all about
? he wondered. “Is there something you need, Marcus?”

“Now that you mention it…”

Chance stared at the stranger. The man was hefty, and he shoved the cigar he was chewing to the other side of his mouth before he spoke.

“We been watchin’ you standin’ by that gate directin’ traffic and ol’ Thurman here”—he gestured with his cigar toward another man in the group—“remarked that you look mighty like a man he used to know.”

There was no outward sign of the panic Chance felt. Instead, a sardonic expression spread across his face. His eyebrow cocked, and a cold smile slipped into place. They were going to have to ask. He wasn’t volunteering a damn thing. Besides, he assured himself, there was no way they could know.

The big man laughed heartily as he continued. “I like this boy. He don’t give nothin’ away. I could use him in my company. Bet you’re a hell of a poker player, McCall.”

“No way, Hancock,” Marcus said. “I didn’t invite you out here to steal my best man.”

“Will that be all?” Chance asked, as he started to walk away.

“Say, boy,” Hancock persisted, “you never did say if you was kin.”

“Well,” Chance drawled, “could be because you didn’t mention who it was I looked like.”

“Hell, if you ain’t right,” Hancock laughed. “Say Thurman, what did you say that man’s name was?”

“Logan Henry…an oil man from down around Odessa way. Met him at the Permian Basin Oil Show a few years back. Now there was a party. The Chuck Wagon Gang out of Odessa had the best barbecue I ever did eat. No offense to you, Marcus, but them good old boys are professionals at puttin’ on a feed.”

Jenny was sitting on the fence, out of reach of the exploding firecrackers and frenzied guests, yet within earshot of the conversation going on between Chance and her father’s friends. She saw the shock in Chance’s eyes as the man’s name was mentioned. It startled her and then made her nervous. That he could have secrets had never occurred to her. But it did now, and Jenny being Jenny, would not be the one to let it die.

Chance belonged to her. It was understood. He had from the first day he’d hired on. It didn’t matter to Jenny if she was the only one aware of this arrangement. If he had problems, she had problems.

Chance didn’t waver. “Never heard of him.” He turned to Marcus. “You need anything else, boss?”

Marcus knew Chance was angry. It was the only time he’d ever called him boss. The anger surprised Marcus and made him curious, but he decided to let it go.

“No. Go on and enjoy yourself. Have a good time. Get some barbecue and cold beer. Let these jokers park their own cars. If they get stuck, they can get themselves unstuck later.”

Chance touched the brim of his hat in a brief, almost rude good-bye to the staring men, spun on his boot heel, and disappeared into the noisy crowd.

“I think you touched raw flesh, Hancock,” Marcus muttered as he watched Chance walk away. “Real raw.” It surprised him and then made him wonder. In all the years he’d known this man, it was the first time he’d ever seen him lose any control over his emotions.

Jenny jumped down from the fence and followed Chance’s retreat. Twice she lost him in the crowd before spotting the wide-brimmed gray hat he was wearing. Although he was nearly a head above most of the crowd, Jenny wasn’t more than four inches past five feet. At the age of sixteen, it didn’t look as if she would exceed that height.

“Chance!” She focused on the Stetson. “Chance!” she called again, only louder. “Wait for me.” She knew he heard her. She saw hesitation in the movement of the hat bobbing above the crowd.

Chance heard her call, but continued to move through the crowd, desperate to get away from the memories that had been so rudely and unexpectedly resurrected. Then he sighed at the persistent tone in her voice. He knew Jenny. He might as well give up because she wouldn’t. He turned around and tried to pinpoint her location.

Jenny saw his face. She stopped short and bit her lip, shocked by the pain and anger evident in his expression as their eyes met across the crowd.

Damn. How long had she been standing there? He felt naked. She’d seen too much of him…of things that were better left buried. He took a deep breath, suppressing all of the old fears that had crawled out of the hole in his mind.

“Jenny! Here I am!” he called. He pushed his way back toward her. “Happy birthday, girl.” He smiled gently at the way she almost preened. Then he grabbed her hand. “Hang on. I’ll get you out of this mess.”

Jenny clasped his hand, relishing the feel of hard calluses and gentle strength. She let him lead her through the crowd. She didn’t care where he was going, it didn’t matter. All she’d wanted for the last few years was to follow Chance McCall into eternity. Then curiosity got the best of her.

“Where are we going?” she asked, as they left the merry-makers and headed toward the stables.

“Do you want your birthday present or not?” Chance asked, grinning at the expression on her face. This small bundle of nervous energy never bored him. In fact, she’d been the single reason he’d stayed as long on the Triple $$$ as he had. If he’d moved on years ago, who would have taken care of Jenny? It damn sure wouldn’t have been her father. He was always too busy being boss. Chance knew what it felt like to have no one. Being Jenny’s “someone” had given him as much pleasure as it had her.

“Wait here,” he ordered, then returned before Jenny had time to fully appreciate the sight of his backside in those form-fitting jeans.

“Here.” He handed her a long, nearly flat box wrapped in bright red paper. “Happy birthday, Jennifer Ann,” he said gently, smiling at her eagerness as she tore the decorative wrappings.

He’d spent most of one afternoon choosing this gift. It had been all he could do to keep it hidden from her as long as he had. He had no secrets from Jenny, at least not many. There
were
the women he sometimes took out, but they were just that. Just women for expediency’s sake, never for love.

“Oh!” The sunlight caught the beaten silver rosettes that decorated the hand-tooled leather of the new bridle. “Chance! It’s beautiful!” She threw her arms around his neck, hugged him tightly, then swept a quick kiss across his cheek just before he pulled out of her arms.

“Sweet sixteen,” he teased.

Jenny wiped the smile from his face when she leaned forward and softly finished the rhyme, “And never been kissed.”

Suddenly all the noise and excitement of the day faded. Chance was shocked by the thoughts that flooded his mind. His body pulsed. For a moment his breathing stopped. Her face imprinted into his memory as if he were seeing her for the first time—pouting, slightly parted lips, with her dark, shoulder-length hair blowing gently in the wind. He was shaken by the need to lay her down in the dust and…

Startled by his desires, he stepped back, needing to put distance between them. She was just a kid, too young…and so damned beautiful it made him ache. He had to stop his thoughts and the look growing in her eyes before things got out of hand. He suspected Jenny was just trying out her new-found womanhood on the first available man. Little did he know how she longed only for him.

“Now, that’s not so, Jenny,” he chided, trying to lighten the tension of the moment. “You have been kissed. I seem to remember a certain young man named Melvin some years back. Of course, he got a bloody nose for his troubles. Could be word got around.” He laughed and started to pull her hair, when Jenny caught his hand and cupped it to her face, pulling him close again.