My Dearest Cal (21 page)

What he needed, he decided, was a good, hard ride. That ought to use up some of this misdirected energy. He saddled up a stallion with a wild, anxious glint in its eye. He figured their moods matched. With very little prodding, the horse took off at a gallop, racing the wind, racing thoughts that pricked Cal’s conscience like barbed wire.

Despite the chase of memories, exhilaration eventually began to replace moodiness. By the time he’d reached the creek where they’d picnicked with his grandmother, he was hot, dusty and tired. As his horse drank thirstily from the creek, Cal sat astride him and surveyed the land that his grandmother continued to insist on deeding to him.

The palette of colors was harsher than those of Florida, the land less lush. Yet he felt an affinity for the barren, wide-open scenery. Maybe there was something to genetics beyond looks and heart disease and the like. Maybe he’d inherited his love of the land from generations of Whitfields after all. It would explain
why he’d felt so at home the minute he’d set foot on the land at Silver River Stables, why he’d been drawn to try something so totally alien to his previous business choices.

Even recognizing that his Florida Thoroughbred operation had been an instinctive and wise choice didn’t mean it would be equally smart to take over here as well. For one thing, his grandmother was a tough old bird. No matter what she’d said about giving him free rein, chances were good that she’d want to have her say about the decisions. As strong-willed as they both were, they’d be butting heads constantly. He caught himself smiling at the prospect. She’d be a worthy opponent, better than many of the men he’d encountered in boardrooms. It could be fascinating.

Still, he could be setting himself up for heartbreak. He’d spent years thinking of no one except himself. He wouldn’t be able to do that if he agreed to his grandmother’s terms. They’d be tied together by more than balance sheets and beef prices. She wouldn’t tolerate halfway measures. She’d want his soul, his total commitment. Why hadn’t Marilou been able to see how intolerable that would be to a man who’d depended only on himself for all these years? Even his grandmother recognized what she was asking. That didn’t keep her from making the demand, but unlike Marilou, at least she wasn’t blind to the implications.

Still no closer to a decision about that or the woman who’d walked out of his life, he heard the pounding of hooves and looked up to see Garrett riding
toward him, her hair tangled and her cheeks flushed from the ride.

“Your grandmother’s looking for you.”

“I figured she would be. It’s been all of an hour since I last checked in.”

She cast a reproving glance at him. “Your attitude stinks, mister. No wonder Marilou dumped you,” she said bluntly.

“Marilou didn’t dump me,” he felt compelled to say, clinging to some small shred of pride. “She had to get back to work.”

“Right.”

Her sarcastic dig, which was closer to the mark than he cared to admit, nagged at him. “You’ve passed along my grandmother’s message like a good employee. You can take off now.”

She studied him without moving, unfazed by his nasty mood. “You don’t like her much, do you?” she said, seemingly baffled.

Cal was taken aback by her assessment. “Actually, I do,” he confessed. “We’re a lot alike, maybe too much so.”

“Then why don’t you treat her with the respect she deserves? Not many men or women could have done what she’s done all these years.” Her eyes sparked, and she leaned forward as she tried to share her own obviously intense feelings about his grandmother’s accomplishments. “Talk to some of the other ranchers around these parts and you’ll see what I mean. She has an indomitable spirit, but she’s lonely. All I’ve heard her talk about since I first came here two
years ago was what it would be like if she could just find you. Now that you’re here, it seems to me like you’re breaking her heart.”

“I don’t mean to,” he said candidly. “I’m just not sure I can do what she wants. Your position will certainly be strengthened if I relinquish my rights to this place. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Maybe what you or I want isn’t so important,” she said quietly, then started off. Before he could recover from her final barb, she added, “By the way, your greenhorn friend is here.”

“Joshua? I wasn’t expecting him until tomorrow.”

“Apparently your employees jump to do your bidding, just like we do around here at your grandmother’s. I think maybe you should have warned him about this place. He seemed to go into shock when one of the cows wandered over to check him out.”

Cal laughed. “Joshua could do with a few surprises in his life.”

Suddenly she was chuckling with him. “Judging from the horrified expression in his eyes, I’m not sure he’d agree.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t.”

She seemed to relax in the saddle. “Are you coming back now?”

“I’m inclined to let him get better acquainted with the cows first.”

“He may quit on you,” she warned.

“He might at that. Then again, if he’s gotten a good look at the fringe benefits, I’m sure he’ll stick
around.” With a wink, he spurred his horse and took off across the fields, Garrett in hot and furious pursuit.

“I am not a fringe benefit,” she shouted, the complaint merging with his laughter as both were carried away on the wind.

* * *

Joshua was, indeed, looking a little grim. Cal found him pacing in the parlor, his expression murderous. Since he had deliberately provoked Garrett into running off, he was left to face his friend alone. Not even his grandmother was around to serve as a buffer.

“Are you out of your mind?” Joshua demanded as he came into the room. He ignored Cal’s outstretched hand.

“What’s the problem?” Cal inquired innocently.

“Just for starters, there are no nonstop flights between Orlando and this godforsaken hellhole.”

“I offered to send my plane for you.”

“Right. The one with the pilot who thinks he’s still flying Medevac helicopters in Vietnam.”

“Who better to get you to a hellhole? Any other complaints?”

“Dozens, and that doesn’t include the ones I’m anticipating. Why am I here?”

“My grandmother could use a little help with the books.”

“I’m quite sure there are adequate accountants in this part of the world.”

“None with your expertise or loyalty.”

Joshua wagged a warning finger at him. “Don’t count too heavily on the latter.”

“Oh, but I do, my friend.”

“How has your grandmother gotten along all these years without an accountant?”

“By her wits, I suspect. Certainly not by any understanding of accounting procedures as you and I know them. Will you help, Joshua? I can guarantee it will be a challenge, even for a man with your skills.”

Joshua sank down in a chair. “Do you realize there is not a drop of Scotch in this house?”

“Play your cards right and I’ll sneak some in for you. Will you help?”

He threw up his hands in a gesture of resignation. “Oh, what the hell. As long as I’m here, I might as well give it a shot. What’s your stake in this?”

“She wants to leave the place to me.”

Joshua’s eyes widened. “Good Lord, as if your Florida place weren’t enough of a headache. How do you feel about that?”

“I’m not sure yet. At first I was adamantly opposed to the idea, but Marilou managed to get in a few good zingers about my cowardice before she left…”

“She’s gone?”

He nodded glumly. “Back to Atlanta.”

“For good?”

“Based on the things she said as she flew out here, I’d say the move is permanent.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“It was her choice.”

“You sound as if you expected her to make it.”

“I saw it coming, yes.”

Silence fell as Joshua studied him consideringly. “Are you so sure you didn’t back her into a corner until it was the only choice she could make?”

“Meaning?”

“You’re not stupid, Cal, even if you do choose to live in the oddest places. I’m sure if you think about it, you can figure it out.”

After several more uncomfortable days of self-examination, he eventually realized what Joshua meant. He’d been so terrified of losing Marilou that he’d been the one to force her to break it off. That idiotic speech he’d made about living together without commitment had been guaranteed to drive her away. Her departure had only confirmed his general opinion that women always ran when things got tough.

Now that she was gone, he was already restless and bored with trying to make sense of his grandmother’s cattle operation. Even with the haphazard bookkeeping and his lack of expertise in the beef market, it wasn’t much of a challenge. He hadn’t given a thought to Silver River Stables in days, despite repeated calls from Chaney. He’d been reading the
Wall Street Journal
with an eye toward finding something new.

But Joshua’s pointed remark had underscored what he’d been thinking earlier that very day: he would always be quick to run unless he finally took the biggest risk of all and admitted to Marilou that he was in love with her.

She had brought excitement to every minute he’d
spent with her. Her innocence and enthusiasm had made every day unique, jammed every hour with special moments. He didn’t need another new business. He needed the one woman who could make him look at life in a new way, who could teach him the real meaning of family and love and commitment.

And he’d waited far too long to tell her that.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” he told his grandmother and Joshua at dinner that night.

“Leaving?” Joshua repeated, his expression horrified. “Without me?”

“You’ll survive.”

“Where are you going?” his grandmother asked, her demeanor instantly stiff.

“Atlanta.”

At that her disapproval vanished. “It’s about time. For a while there I was worried you weren’t going to see what’s plain as day.”

He shook his head and sighed. “I’m surprised you didn’t point it out.”

She patted his hand. “Some things a man has to figure out for himself.”

* * *

Marilou was flat-out miserable. In the month she’d been away from Atlanta the rain had finally quit and the skies were a clear blue, but she felt every bit as depressed as she had before she’d gone away. She couldn’t get Cal out of her mind. She’d even planted a damned vegetable garden on the balcony of her apartment. The tomatoes were taking over. At least,
she thought they were tomatoes. Maybe it was the zucchini that was going nuts.

She’d taken to scouring the sports pages for stories on racing. She’d even picked up
The Daily Racing Form
, which had aroused all sorts of curious stares at work, since the nearest track was in Alabama. She hadn’t found one single word about Silver River Stables or Devil’s Magic or any of the other horses. There were rumors that a well-respected trainer was in negotiations with an Ocala Thoroughbred breeder, but the reports were so vague that she couldn’t be sure Cal was involved.

Half a dozen times she’d picked up the phone to call Florida or Wyoming. Each time, she’d cradled the receiver without dialing. Each time she’d told herself she had to wait for Cal to make the first move.

Telling him goodbye that night had very nearly killed her and, judging from the pallor of his complexion and the set of his lips as he’d heard her out, it had been no easier on him. Still, he had let her go. As his grandmother had warned her, he’d probably told himself a hundred times since then that he was better off without a woman who found it so easy to cut the ties between them.

With her mind only half on her job, she was sorting through the endless stacks of mail in search of something that would engage her interest, when Helen came over, a bemused expression on her face.

“Where’d you go on your vacation? Weren’t you in Wyoming?”

“Part of the time.”

“I think this letter’s for you, then. What kind of crazy guy would take a chance on getting it to you this way? Must be a real romantic.”

Puzzled, Marilou held out her hand. As soon as she saw the pale blue vellum envelope, her heart began to thud. The stationery wasn’t all that uncommon, but coupled with Helen’s remarks, there was little doubt about who had sent it. The last time she’d seen this paper, postmarked from Cheyenne, her whole life had taken an incredible new turn. She turned it over and over, almost afraid to open it.

On the front of the envelope, written not in the shaky hand of Mrs. McDonald but in Cal’s bold strokes, were simply her name and Atlanta, Georgia. It was an address so incomplete that it virtually guaranteed it would wind up here in the dead letter office.

The message inside would have provided few clues about the sender to any clerk other than Marilou: I love you. Marry me. Cal.

She felt her pulse soar. Beaming at Helen, she rushed to her supervisor and pleaded for a break. “I have to make a call. It’s important.”

“Ten minutes,” he growled. “And don’t expect another one in an hour.”

“I promise.”

She practically ran to the pay phone down the hall and punched in Cal’s Wyoming number. “Elena, it’s Marilou. Could I speak to Cal, please?”

“
No está aqui, señorita
. He go away.”

Her spirits plummeted. “Away?”

“
Si
. You wish to speak to
la señora?
”

“No. Just give her my love.” The minute she’d hung up, she redialed, this time to the farm in Ocala. “Chaney, it’s Marilou.”

“Hey, gal, we miss you down here. You still in Wyoming with Cal?”

Her spirits nose-dived. Cal must not be there, either. “No, I’m back in Atlanta. Cal’s apparently left Wyoming, too. Isn’t he there?”

“Nope, we ain’t seen hide nor hair of him since the two of you took off. Don’t know how he expects me to run this place when he don’t even call in or take the calls I make.”

“I’m sure he trusts your decisions, Chaney. Do whatever you think is right. How’s Dawn’s Magic?”

“Growing like a danged weed. You coming back to see her?”

“Maybe,” she said wistfully, clinging more tightly to the letter.

“You want me to give the boss a message if he does finally take it into his head to call?” he asked grumpily.