This Calder Sky (28 page)

“Thanks for holding him.” She barely met the man's warm gray eyes as she reached for Ty, who was screwing up his face to cry when she lifted him into her arms. It took him a second to realize he was on home territory before he relaxed.

“I should be thanking you,” the man stated and tipped his head to one side, studying her with interest. “Where did you learn to rope like that?”

“I was raised on a ranch. I learned to rope almost as soon as I learned to ride.” Maggie patted Ty's back in a manner that soothed and reassured. After her experience with Chase, she had developed a wariness of men, so when she looked up at the man, she didn't altogether trust the pleasantness of his smiling and handsome face. His hair was a dark iron-gray, but the suntanned vitality of his features made him appear mature and distinguished rather than old.

“I'm glad you did. If Copper's Chance had slipped by us and reached the road … with all that traffic, I don't like to think about what might have happened to him. I didn't pay twenty-five thousand for that horse to have him hit by a car, so I am eternally grateful you happened along when you did.”

Maggie stared at him incredulously for an instant, then laughed shortly. “I don't think you know very much about horses. You've just been taken. That horse is a gelding.”

His head moved back to release a throaty laugh
skyward. “I am well aware Copper's Chance is a gelding. I didn't buy him for breeding purposes, but for the show ring, Miss———?”

“Maggie. Maggie O'Rourke,” she supplied her name absently, still trying to comprehend his explanation. “Do you mean that horse really is worth that much money?”

“Yes. He's a first-class jumper.”

Maggie knew about jumping horses, but she had never known they could be that valuable. A stallion of any breed could, conceivably, be worth that much, but a gelding with no reproductive prowess—that took some adjusting to.

“What spooked him?” she asked.

“I don't know,” the man admitted. “I just had him flown in from Virginia this morning. We unloaded him from the horse van not twenty minutes ago. Perhaps he was nervous from all the traveling.” He shook his head to show he could only guess at the cause.

The last sentence was barely spoken when Maggie felt a strange vibration. It felt as if the ground was moving underneath her. Her eyes grew wide with alarm as the sensation increased.

“What's happening?” She hugged Ty closer to her and looked around to see the limbs of the trees moving, even though there wasn't a breeze.

“Come on.” The man's arm was around her, pushing and directing her to a more open area. His hand reached across to protectively include the baby and keep it safely in her arms. By the time they had taken a half-dozen steps, the curious vibration had stopped.

Maggie's rounded gaze lifted to the man, seeking an explanation. “Was that … an earthquake?” She'd heard about them before, but she wasn't entirely certain that was what she had just experienced.

“Yes. That must be what spooked the horse. They say animals can sense an earthquake coming.” He smiled at her, his arm loosening from around her shoulders to let her stand free. “Your first?” he guessed.

“Yes.” Her knees still felt shaky.

“Where are you from?”

“Montana.” When Ty gurgled against her shoulder, Maggie quickly glanced at him to see if he was frightened, but he had one of those toothless, baby smiles on his face that indicated delight rather than fear. “It's okay, Ty,” she soothed to reassure herself since he didn't need it.

“That's a healthy-looking boy,” the man observed. “Is it the Van Doren's baby?”

“No, Ty is mine,” Maggie asserted with a quick, proud look that was also defensive. She saw the start of surprise and the questions that leaped into his gray eyes. She answered them without waiting to see if good manners would keep him from asking. “I'm sixteen, and no, I'm not married.” She was braced for an expression of disdain to appear on his face, but it didn't come, even though his study of her sharpened.

“Ty.” An approving smile began to show as he said her son's name. “It's a nice name.”

Maggie lowered her gaze to the baby, not certain the man's reaction was sincere. “Thank you.”

There was a pause before the man suggested, “May I offer you a lift somewhere? It's the least I can do after you rescued my horse,” he explained, as if guessing she would be sensitive about anything resembling charity or pity.

“No, thank you.” Maggie was glad she could refuse. “I'm meeting my aunt. I'll ride home with her. She works for Dr. Gordon and his sister.”

“Mrs. Hogan—Cathleen Hogan is your aunt?” His frown was both curious and pleasantly surprised.

“Yes.”

“Forgive me for not introducing myself. I'm Dr. Phillip Gordon.” He extended a hand to her. She noticed his fingers were long and almost femininely slender. “I recall now that Cathleen mentioned she had a niece living with her. I didn't make the connection that you might be she.”

“I don't know who I thought you were, either.” Maggie shook hands with him, feeling the strength of his fingers as she tried to remember all that Cathleen had told her about her employers. He had just turned forty, Maggie recalled. Her Aunt Cathleen had said only good things about him. Maggie was more willing to trust her aunt's judgment than her own. She relaxed her defenses slightly.

“Why don't you come to the house?” he invited. “I know my sister, Pamela, would like to meet you and the baby.”

Maggie hesitated only an instant before accepting. “All right, and I can let Aunt Cathleen know I'm here.”

The house was every bit as grand on the inside as it looked on the outside. All spacious and airy, decorated in bright California colors, it had cool, tile floors and plush furnishings with a scattering of antiques. There was a certain fragility in its look that spoke of a woman's influence.

Maggie's breath was taken away when Dr. Gordon introduced her to his sister. Despite the confinement of the wheelchair, Pamela Gordon personified all that Maggie hoped someday to attain. Her eyes were the warm gray color of her brother's, but heavily fringed with lashes and a trace of lavender shadow on the eyelids. Her features were slender, like his, but beautifully
feminine. Instead of iron-gray hair, hers was silver-blonde and elegantly styled. She was wearing a sleeveless Oriental robe with a mandarin collar, her lifeless legs hidden under the long length of the gown. Everything about her seemed the epitome of beauty and grace. If that wasn't enough to earn Maggie's admiration, it was sealed by the blonde woman's entrancement over Ty.

“May I hold him?” Pamela Gordon asked in a voice that was so softly cultured. Maggie surrendered Ty to her arms. He immediately grabbed a handful of silver-blonde hair. Maggie, who had always been surprised by the strength of a baby's grip, quickly rescued the lock of hair and freed it from his grasp before he gave it a yank.

“Maybe I'd better hold him,” she apologized.

“Oh, no, please,” Pamela protested and held him a little closer, catching the small hand before it could grasp another handful of hair. “He can pull my hair any time he wants.” She pressed a perfumed cheek close to the baby's. “He is precious.”

“That is one thing Pamela and I have both missed in life,” Phillip explained in a quiet aside to Maggie, and watched his sister playing with the baby boy. “The joy of having children around.”

When Maggie's aunt came in a few minutes later to say she was ready to leave, Pamela begged them to stay. “Just a little while longer—long enough to have a cold drink,” she coaxed.

“We can't,” Maggie refused gently, but firmly. “Grandma Hogan is expecting us. I promised we'd come straight home so she could go to the nursing home early to see Grandpa.” There was a moment of resistance when she started to lift Ty out of Pamela's arms before the woman reluctantly let him go.

“You will come again?” Pamela turned her eager
gray eyes to Maggie, so soft and shining, like rich velvet. “And bring Ty?”

“Yes,” Maggie promised.

The next day she wrote Culley another letter while Ty was napping. She described her first earthquake, how she had roped this expensive horse, and how nice Phillip and Pamela Gordon had been to her. It was the first really special thing that had happened to her since coming to California, except giving birth to Ty, of course.

The doorbell rang. Maggie smoothed a hand over the black skirt of her dress. It was the second occasion she'd had reason to wear black in the last two weeks. The first time had been in June to attend Dad Hogan's funeral. The second was to attend the funeral of Mother Hogan, who had willed herself to die a week after her husband.

Maggie hadn't cried when her father died, and she had shed no tears with the passing of this elderly couple. She silently wondered if there was something wrong with her—if Chase had taken away her ability to feel things. The strain of keeping it all bottled up inside showed in the tautness of her features, made whiter by the black dress she wore and the jet-black color of her hair.

When she entered the living room of her aunt's house, Cathleen had already answered the door. Maggie watched with an outward impassivity while her aunt submitted to the compassionate and comforting embrace of Phillip Gordon, then dabbed at her tear-red
eyes with a lace handkerchief. Pamela was with him in her wheelchair and hugged Cathleen when the older woman bent to greet her.

Phillip crossed the room, resplendent in a gray suit. He smiled at Maggie in that quiet way of his and took the hands she had unconsciously clasped in front of her. “How are you, Maggie?” he asked and studied the stillness of her features. He knew perfection when he saw it: the balanced contours of bone structure, everything in proper proportion. In no way could his surgical skills improve on the gift of natural beauty.

“I'm fine, thank you,” she replied in an emotionless voice.

His gaze ran over her purposely blank expression. He'd seen this wall erected before the few times she had visited his home. Mostly, it came when she was asked an innocent question about her parents, her childhood, or the father of her illegitimate child. The latter he could understand she would be reluctant to discuss. Yet she didn't want to talk about her parents, especially her father, or what her life had been like prior to moving to California.

“This must be difficult for you. It is a lot to deal with for someone as young as you are,” Phillip sympathized.

Maggie withdrew her hands, refusing the comfort he offered. “Dying is only hard for those who live.” Her wisdom and experience belied her age.

“Pamela and I stopped to offer our condolences and see if there was anything we could do to help.” He was aware of her rejection. Phillip could not recall meeting anyone so young who had this much pride and independence. “I have already told Cathleen that she should feel free to consult with my attorney if there are any legal questions regarding the estate of her late husband's parents. As for any medical bills or—”

Maggie stopped him before he could offer any financial
assistance. “I believe there was sufficient life insurance to take care of their bills and pay for the funerals. They had no estate, except their personal belongings.” Belatedly, she realized she had been cold in denying his overture of assistance. “It's kind of you to offer, though.” She smiled somewhat stiffly.

“It isn't a question of kindness, but one of caring,” he insisted. “Over the years, Mrs. Hogan—your aunt—has become more than an employee to Pamela and me. This is a difficult time for her … and you. We would like to make it as easy as possible.”

“Of course.” She could think of nothing else to say.

“What will you do you now, Maggie?” He disliked that name. It didn't seem to suit the self-possessed young woman standing in front of him.

“I'm going to continue my correspondence course so I can get my diploma,” she replied without hesitation. “Meanwhile, I'm going to look for a job and a good nursery to look after Ty while I'm at work.”

“Jobs are hard to find,” Phillip murmured.

“I'll find one,” she stated. “As soon as I have my high school diploma, I'm going on to college.”

Admiration glimmered in his eyes at her unwavering determination. She
was
going to find a job, and she
was
going to college. It hadn't been “I
want
to,” but “I'm
going
to.” She was a remarkable girl, beautiful and determined.

She half-turned to include Pamela. “May I bring you some coffee or tea?”

The consensus was for tea. Cathleen let go of Pamela's hand to rise. “I'll fix it, Mary Frances.”

“You stay here and visit with the Gordons,” Maggie insisted. “I can manage.”

As she left the room, she heard Cathleen say, “God sent that girl to me because He knew I would need her to get through these weeks.”

The comment made Maggie feel glad that her presence served a purpose and she wasn't a burden on her aunt. She made the tea properly, the way her aunt had shown her, letting the pot warm while the water was heating. She filled it with the hot, but not boiling, water, and added the loose tea leaves. Setting it aside to steep, she fixed the serving tray as precisely as she had seen it done at Pamela Gordon's home, complete with the fragile china cups and cream and sugar, and wedges of lemon.

When she carried the tray into the living room, she heard Pamela Gordon insisting, “What you really need, Cathleen, is a change of surroundings. Phillip and I have always wanted you to live with us. We never pressed the point because we knew you had your husband's parents to look after. Come live with us now.” She was so beautiful, so persuasive that Maggie wondered how anyone could resist, but her aunt glanced at Maggie.