Protector of the Flight (50 page)

The
wind spattered them with fat raindrops. Calli set her shoulders. “We’d better
go on down.”

“Yes,”
he said in English.

They
were halfway down the hill when her gaze automatically swept the ranch. She
noted that it had been a good year. The fields were green, the cattle fat.
Something odd registered and she stiffened, fixed her scrutiny on the house. It
had been painted. She could only stare.

As long
as she could remember, it had been brown fading more into drabness every year,
with darker, dustier trim. Now it was white and blue.

She
stopped in her tracks.

“What
is it?”

“The
house. It’s been painted.”

“Then
there have been some changes.”

“More
than small changes, believe you me.” With force of will, she kept her body from
trembling. “My father hasn’t painted that house since…since…never.”

Her
scrutiny jumped from the house to the arena. It was in good shape, too, better
than what she’d had time to fix up. Her father still stood with the younger man
whom she’d seen when she’d been in the dimensional corridor. The men talked and
gestured at four horses. Calli recognized none of them.

As
soon as they reached the bottom of the path, Marrec took her hand, and she held
tight. She and Marrec were only a few yards from the corral when her dad looked
up. He stiffened and his expression went cold.

Marrec
squeezed her fingers and she glanced at him. He looked equally impassive, but
she sensed alert wariness from him.

The
wind came up, more raindrops pattered around them as they stopped beside her
father and the young man.

“So
you’re back,” her father said.

“Yes,”
she said.

“Will?”
asked the young man.

“This
is my stepson, Roy. Roy, this is Calli. You’ve heard of her,” her father said.

The
emotional blow that he’d
married
was like a sock to her stomach, but it
wasn’t quite as hard as it should have been. Her subconscious had put all the
clues together. She lifted her chin, met her father’s eyes—the same color as her
own. “This is my husband, Marrec Gardpont. Marrec, my father, Will Torcher.”

Her
father looked Marrec up and down. Though he said nothing, Calli knew prejudice
was kicking in. He nodded at Marrec. A nod of acknowledgment of someone
standing before him, not approval, not respect, not even acceptance that Marrec
was worthy of a handshake. Marrec stiffened beside her. She pressed his arm.

Her
father’s smile had long gone. He was thin lipped now. “You back for good?”

She
was pretty sure that everyone here thought her being back wasn’t good. Though
Roy looked less tense than anyone else.

“I’ll
fight you for the ranch.” They were months-old words that shot out of her
mouth, filled with anger and bitterness, which she already sensed were futile.

“You
won’t win,” he said, and turned away.

“I’ve
put plenty into this place, and everyone knows it.” She kept step with him.

“Calli,”
Marrec said.

36

S
he stopped the
anger and humiliation and bitterness from bursting out in more hurtful words.
Who knew all that was still inside her, as strong as it had been before she’d
been Summoned to Lladrana?

Her
father’s gaze swept the land and for the first time in her memory, she saw love
for the ranch on his face. “Calli, you won’t win.”

“We’ll
see.” Maybe not the ranch, but she’d get a stake.

“I’ll
tell Dora you’re here.” He lengthened his stride.

Calli
would have had to run to keep up with him, and that she refused to do.

“Will.”
Roy’s smile was strained. “He’s a tough guy.”

“Yeah,”
said Calli.

Roy
held out his hand, “Roy Etrang.”

His
grip was firm. Calli asked, “Aren’t you upset?”

“The
ranch isn’t mine.” A brief smile, but flickering sadness in his eyes. “I won’t
lie and say I don’t want it. But the ranch is Will’s.”

“And
mine,” Calli said, then spoke another truth. “And Dora’s.”

Roy
nodded, sympathy in his gaze. “And Dora’s. I’ll take you in.” He didn’t say,
but Calli figured he knew, that her name wasn’t officially on any papers, and
Dora’s was.

They
circled the house to enter through the side door and the mudroom. Marrec was
silent and Calli knew he was soaking everything in. She was glad now, for
herself and him, that he’d had a rough life. He’d know to be quiet until he
could adapt. He’d fight with her and for her.

Since
she and Marrec wore no outer gear, she only brushed her feet on the mat,
keeping her gaze from shooting up the narrow back stairs to her old room.

The
rumble of her father’s voice came, along with high, shrill protests. She
stopped at the open door to the kitchen. Marrec put his arm around her
shoulders. Briefly, she laid her head against his arm. Felt the dreeth-skin
leathers.

How
things had changed.

“I
won’t have her here!” a woman’s voice spiked.

“Then
she’ll go stay in town,” her dad said expressionlessly. “Better to keep this
here.”

Well,
things wouldn’t be getting any better by lingering in the mudroom. Calli
stepped into the kitchen, and color—pastels—burst upon her vision as if they’d
been bold carnival hues, they were so different than the dingy white she’d
left. The walls were newly painted in pale green, with pretty flowered curtains
at the window matching a cloth on an equally new table with polished curvy
legs.

A
woman whirled to her. Calli’s eyes went wide. Her father’s new wife was a plump
woman about his age with carefully tended colored blond hair, a slight sheen of
makeup and bright blue eyes holding anger and greed. “You aren’t welcome here.”

“Mom,”
Roy protested.

Dora
tossed her head; no hair flew from its ordered place in the sprayed bob.

“I’m
Calli
Torcher
Gardpont, this is my husband, Marrec.” She shut up.
Nothing she could say would sound believable. She’d left without taking
anything and had now reappeared, with a husband but nothing else. Her dad might
not have noticed or cared and she could only hope Dora was too selfish and Roy
too preoccupied to ask piercing questions.

Dora’s
lips pushed in and out. Finally she said, “How long are you going to stay in
the area?”

“As
long as it takes to resolve things. And if we leave, it won’t be empty handed.”

“We’ll
see about that.”

“Yes,
we will. I poured a lot of money into this ranch.”

“Hmmph!”
Dora huffed.

“Mom.”

“Your
room is pretty much the way you left it when you ran off.” Dora’s eyes slid to
Will to see if he would defend Calli from the jab. Calli could have told her
that he hadn’t even noticed the slight. “You and your husband—” she stared at
Calli’s ringless left hand “—can bunk there until we figure this out.” She
turned to Roy. “I hope you’re happy now.”

He’d
reddened, but jerked a nod. “It’s the right thing to do.”

“Doubt
it,” Dora said. “Supper’s at five. That gives you about an hour to clean up.”

“Right,”
Calli said. She’d always prepared supper at five. Discreetly tugging Marrec’s
hand, she led him back to the side entrance. She needed to get somewhere
private where she could have a quiet breakdown.

She
climbed the narrow stairs to the attic, to her room, and opened the door. How
small it was. How sterile. She stumbled in, no tears now, but continuing shock
after shock, folded onto the double bed.

Marrec
sat beside her and the old mattress pitched her into him. He circled his arm
around her, drew her close. He was the only warmth in the universe. And his
strong chest against her, the beating of his heart, was the only thing that
mattered.

This
wasn’t home anymore.

Probably
hadn’t been “home” for a long time, but she’d defined it that way.

She—they—were
torn from their real home, the one they’d built together.

“I
am receiving flashes from your past,” Marrec said evenly. “So I know this is
the house you grew to adulthood in.”

“Yes.”
Her throat felt dry, but she didn’t have the energy to go to the tiny half bath
for a drink of water. She scanned the room. It was relatively clean but smelled
musty, and the heat would be too much for her if she weren’t shivering so.

“I
recall when you were Summoned.”

That
had tears flooding back and down her cheeks. Marrec swept a pillow from its
case and handed her the cloth. She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I remember,
too,” she said thickly.

“You
were injured.”

She
flinched. “Yes.”

“Had
been very hurt, for a long time.”

She
nodded.

“Your
father did not ask about your injuries.”

A
strangled noise came from her and she turned into him. “I don’t think he even
noticed that I am fully healed.” She held out her hands to him. “This is not
our home. Can we link and try to project our thoughts to Lladrana?”

“Good
idea.” He took her hands.

Love,
hope, fear cycled between them.

Alexa!
Calli shouted,
sending all her Power in a burst toward the first Exotique. She thought the
scream got lost in whistling winds.

Marrec
squeezed her hands.
Try visualizing Marian. She’s a Circlet. Has a Powerful
Song.

Telepathy
didn’t work as easily here. Calli formed an image of Marian, and she was
leaning back against Jaquar.

Good,
Marrec said. He
took her image and layered it with his own—Marian’s dress against her full
figure, refined the shape of her breasts and hips, added shades of color to her
hair. Calli chuckled. Then she concentrated on Jaquar, the blue, blue of his
eyes, the line of his jaw—and his shoulders. When she glanced up, one side of
Marrec’s mouth had quirked up and his eyes gleamed amusement.

She
closed her eyes, gathered her Power, felt Marrec’s Song and Power join her own.
Mar-i-an!
The yell echoed through her head. She thought it might have
circled the world. Her shoulders slumped and she opened damp eyes to look at
Marrec. His expression was somber. He shook his head slightly. “Ttho. I did not
reach her, either.”

Her
lips had been pressed tightly together as she’d sent everything with her mind.
“We’ll try again.”

He
nodded, but she felt no hope from him.

T
hey walked down
the stairs and heard bustling from behind the kitchen door that was open a
crack. Roy was saying, “But how did they get here? Looked like they
walked
in. They sure didn’t drive the truck Calli won last year. We’ve been using
that. Put a lotta miles on it.”

Calli
stopped in the mudroom. Luckily, neither Roy nor her father had seen her and
Marrec descend the hillside path.

“Her
fault if she left the truck for our use.” Her dad snorted. “Bert, next door.”

The
next ranch over was about five miles away, if you rode.

“Huh?”
said Roy.

“The
Honorable Trent Philbert next door,” her dad said patiently. Calli had never
heard that tone from him in her life. Something niggled at her mind as she
heard Bert’s name, but she lost it as her dad continued.

“The
guy with those fancy horses? He’s a big shot in Denver. The Philberts have had
the spread down the road for the last eighty years, but mostly live in Denver
and use the place a coupla times for vacation. Damn shame. He and that new
flaky wife of his and those horses came down the day before Calli left. Bert’s
always had a soft spot for Calli.” He grunted. “She gave him some money to
invest from her winnings.”

“Really?”
asked Dora. “How much?”

“Dunno,”
her dad said.

Neither
did Calli. She’d given Bert five percent of her first year’s winnings, and a
little more every year when she’d seen him at the National Western Stock Show
in Denver. Wonder how much she had. A soft sigh escaped her at the recollection
of that money. If nothing else, it would give her and Marrec a stake. She
hadn’t known Bert had arrived, with or without fancy horses.

“But
their clothes!” Dora tsked.

“Yeah,
those looked weird,” Roy said.

Marrec
met her eyes, looked down at himself in his dreeth leathers. Calli had changed
into some of her old clothes.

“Probably
came from one a those theme parks,” her dad said indifferently. “Guy had been
callin’ Calli to persuade her to work for him—Renaissance Past, or somethin’
like that.”

Calli
blinked. That was true. Interesting how her dad spun a story. How easily he’d
accepted and explained her disappearance. She bit her lip as anger spurted
through her.