Mistletoe and Holly (24 page)

They had pulled more practical jokes on him than he cared to remember. The worst had been waking up one morning and finding a rattlesnake coiled on top of his chest. It had been hibernating and the cold made it too sluggish to do anything, but Ty hadn’t known that. He had damned near crapped his pants, and all “the boys” had stood around and laughed their sides out.

It was like being the new kid on the block. Of course, Ty never used that phrase around his father. His father had the opinion that city life made a man weak. More than anything else, Ty wanted to prove to his father that he wasn’t weak, but he didn’t know how much more of this endless hazing he could take. A couple of the old-timers, Nate Moore for one, had told him that all new men went through this, but it seemed to Ty that they were doing an extra job on him.

The hand on his shoulder tightened as his father
spoke again. “Stumpy’s probably in the calving sheds. Let’s go find him and get you settled in.”

“Okay.” Stirring, Ty reluctantly lifted his gaze to the sheds where there was a suggestion of activity.

A pigtailed girl about ten years old crawled between the railings of a board fence and ambled toward them. A heavy winter coat with patches and mismatched buttons gave bulk to her skinny frame, as did the double layer of jeans tucked inside a pair of run-down and patched boots. A wool scarf tied her cowboy hat on her head, a pair of honey-brown braids poking out the front.

“H’lo, Mr. Calder.” She greeted Chase with the proper respect, but it was that of a youngster toward an elder rather than any degree of servility.

“Hello, Jess.” A faint smile eased the tautness around his mouth as Chase recognized Stumpy’s oldest child.

From the start, Jessy Niles had been a tomboy. Stumpy always claimed it was because, when she was teething, they’d let her chew on a strip of braided rawhide rein. She played with ropes and bridle bits when other girls were playing with dolls. She preferred tagging after her father to helping her mother in the kitchen or looking after her two brothers who followed her in succession.

There was never any little-girl cuteness about
her. She’d been like a gangly filly, all arms and legs, and skinny to boot. She wasn’t homely, but her features were too strong—the cheekbones prominent and the jawline sharply angling. Her coloring was bland, her hair a washed-out brown, and her eyes an ordinary hazel—except they gleamed with intelligence, always direct, and sometimes piercing.

“I saw you drive up,” she announced as she turned to size up Ty. “I told my dad you were here, so he’ll probably be out shortly.”

Ty bristled faintly under her penetrating stare. Even though he had become used to adults measuring him against his father, it was irritating to have this child slide him under her microscope. He gritted his teeth. He was sick of having to prove himself to everyone he met.

“You haven’t met Stumpy’s daughter, have you?” Chase realized and made the introductions. “This is Jessy Niles. My son, Ty.”

She pushed a gloved hand at him, and Ty grudgingly shook it. “I heard about ya,” she stated, and Ty bitterly wondered what that meant. It didn’t sit well to think of some pigtailed kid laughing about some of the dumb things he’d done. “We’ve got a lot of first-calf heifers this year, so we sure could use the help.” Jess spoke as if she were in charge. “Do you know anything about calving?”

A response seemed to be expected of him, from both his father and the young girl. Ty knew better than to claim knowledge he didn’t possess. “No, but I’ve helped with a lot of foaling,” he answered tersely.

The youngster wasn’t impressed. “It’s not quite the same. A mare’s contractions are a lot more powerful than a cow’s, so the birthing doesn’t take as long.” The information was absently tossed out, as if it were something everyone should know.

“How’s it going?” inquired Chase.

“So far, we’ve only lost one calf,” she said with a lift of her shoulders that seemed to indicate it was too soon to make a prognosis. Then a flash of humor brought a sparkle to her eyes. “Three of the boys already told Dad they were quitting at the end of the month and drawing their pay to head south. That’s one ahead of this time last year.”

Chase chuckled in his throat, fully aware more cowboys threatened to quit during calving season than any other time, although few actually did. His gaze lifted past the girl to watch Stumpy’s approach from the calving sheds, his footsteps crunching on the frozen ground.

“Here comes my dad,” Jessy said, turning her head.

Stumpy Niles was a squatly built man, needing
the nearly two-inch riding heels on his boots to reach the five-foot-seven-inch mark. But what he lacked in size he made up for in skill and stamina. He was always ready to laugh, but at the same time he was serious about his work and responsibility. Like Chase, Stumpy had been born and raised on the ranch; his grandfather had worked for Chase’s grandfather, and the tradition was being carried on by succeeding generations. There were several families on the ranch that had never known any other home. No one retired when they grew old; they were simply given easier jobs.

At ten years, Jessy Niles already came to her father’s shoulder. There was no resemblance to mark them as father and daughter. She was long-legged and skinny, while he was short and compact. His hair was dark, nearly black; so were his eyes. Energy seemed to be coiled inside him, always just below the surface, while she appeared quiet and contained.

After an exchange of greetings, Stumpy inserted, “We sure can use the help. They couldn’t have picked a better time to let kids out of school for spring vacation.”

“Nearly everyone’s son on the Triple C is being put to work in the calving sheds,” Chase remarked. “There’s no reason for Ty to be an exception. You
just tell him where you want him to go and what you want him to do.”

Stumpy looked at Ty. “You might as well take your gear over to the bunkhouse and catch some rest if you can. We work the sheds in two shifts. You’ll be on the night crew, so you’ll be goin’ on duty at five and workin’ till six in the morning.”

Figures, Ty thought, but he kept the rancor to himself. If there was a rotten job or lousy hours to be had, he always got them. His father had warned him it would be like this until he had proved himself, but Ty had never dreamed this testing would last so long. He was expected to endure the razzing and hazing without complaint, but the frustration was mounting inside him and the pressure from outside was only adding to the strain. More than anything else in this world, he wanted to make his father proud of him, but that day seemed farther away all the time.

“I’ll take him to the bunkhouse for you, Dad,” Jessy volunteered, “and show him where everything is.”

“You do that.” Her father smiled and nodded his approval.

“Where’s your outfit?” Jessy turned to Ty and gave him another one of her level looks. Although it didn’t show, she liked this strong-faced and
lanky-muscled boy, even if he thought a rope honda was some kind of motorbike. That was a real shame, him being a Calder and all.

“In the back of the truck.” The cold seemed to make him talk through his teeth, or so Jessy thought, not recognizing the irritation that hardened his jaw. “I’ll get it.”

After Ty had hauled his war bag and bulky bedroll out of the rear bed of the pickup, Jessy started for the chinked-log bunkhouse and glanced around to make sure he was following.

“I’ll be back Sunday afternoon to pick you up, Ty,” Chase called after his son and saw the bob of the cowboy hat in acknowledgment. He watched the pair walk silently toward the bunkhouse but directed his words to Stumpy. “A lot of people think ranchers leave cows to their own devices to drop their calves out on the range at the mercy of the elements, predators, and birthing complications.”

It was an indirect way of saying that was what Ty had thought until Chase had explained differently. That’s the way it had been done a hundred years ago, but certainly not now.

“That cow and her calf are too valuable to leave it all up to nature. Eight times out of ten, a cow won’t have any trouble, but those two times, it pays
to have a two-legged critter around to help out,” Stumpy declared, then snorted out a laugh, his breath coming out in a billowing vapor cloud. “Hell, most city folks think all a rancher or a cowboy does is turn a cow loose with a bull, let her calve, and round ’em up in the spring to brand ’em and again in the fall to take them to market. They don’t think about the castrating, dehorning, vaccinating, doctoring, and feeding—not to mention all the grief they give ya in between.”

“Yeah, we got an easy life, Stumpy, and don’t know it.” His mouth was pulled into a wry line as he continued to watch the pair of youngsters approaching the bunkhouse. “That’s quite a girl you’ve got there. She has her mother’s looks, doesn’t she?”

It wasn’t really a question, since Chase had known Judy Niles almost as long as Stumpy had. She was a genial, sandy-haired woman, a couple inches taller than her husband, and attractive in an average sort of way.

“You should see her in those calving sheds, pulling calves in subzero temperatures.” Stumpy puffed up a bit with pride. “The two boys, Ben and Mike, spend more time horsing around than helping. ’Course, they’re young yet. But Jessy, she pitches right in there without being asked. As long
as she wants to do it, I’m not going to stop her. It’s a pity she isn’t a boy. She’s got the makings of a top hand.”

“She’ll outgrow this tomboy stage when she discovers boys.” Chase winked in amusement.

“Probably,” Stumpy agreed and showed a reluctance for that coming day. “I know her mother would like it if she helped more around the house. Speaking of mothers—” He paused, lifting his head to cast an interested look at Chase. “How’s Maggie?”

“The doctor says she’s doing fine. Nothing to worry about.” A glowing warmth seemed to radiate from the brown depths of his eyes, an inner pride bursting forth.

“It’s getting close to her time, isn’t it?” Stumpy asked, frowning slightly as he tried to recall.

“The first of May, so she’s got a little over two months before the baby is due.” But he wasn’t as calm or casual about the coming event as he tried to appear. “The senator is flying in with some people he wants me to meet, so I’d better be getting back to The Homestead.”

As Ty followed the girl across the threshold into the bunkhouse, he heard the truck starting up and looked over his shoulder to see the pickup reverse to turn onto the single road leading away from the
camp. He knew he was completely on his own again. A wary tension strung his senses to a high pitch of alertness as he swung the door shut and turned to face the room.

He was standing in a small common room. A table and a collection of chairs stood in one corner, and a sofa and a couple of armchairs, all showing the scars of cowboys’ indifference, occupied the other corner. A converted barrel heater split the room in the middle, its sides glowing almost a cherry-red as it waged a continual combat to keep the cold outside temperatures from invading the bunkhouse. Propped against the back wall, there was a broken chair to to used for kindling in the wood stove. A variety of cartoons, western pictures, and pinup girls were tacked to the walls in a crazy quilt of decoration.

“The bathroom’s through that door.” Jessy pointed to the right and walked to the barrel heater to warm her hands. “The beds are in there.” She indicated the opposite direction with a nod of her hatted head. “You can take your pick of the empty ones.”

Ty hefted his duffel bag a little higher to change his grip on it and headed for the open doorway on his left. The sleeping area of the bunkhouse was thinly partitioned into small rooms, furnished with
plain wire-and-steel frame beds with a cowboy’s bedroll serving as mattress and blanket. The first few beds, the ones closest to the common room and able to benefit from the wood stove’s heat, were all occupied, either by possessions or by quilted shapes actually sleeping in the beds. Ty stopped at the first empty bunk he found and tossed his duffel bag and thick bedroll onto the wire frame. Coat hooks were screwed into the wall to hold his hat and coat and the odd piece of clothing or two.

“Did ya find one?” The girl’s querying voice searched him out.

“Yeah.” He half turned away from the doorway and began shrugging out of his heavy jacket. His thermal underwear and wool shirt were more than adequate in the relative warmth of the bunkhouse.

Her footsteps stopped at the doorway. “If you don’t feel like layin’ down right away, there’s coffee in the pot on the hot plate.”

“No, thanks.” Ty left his hat on but hung up his coat and turned to untie his bedroll and spread it open on the bed.

He caught her out of the corner of his eye, leaning against the doorway, her coat unbuttoned and the scarf loose around her neck. He wished she’d quit watching him with those measuring eyes. It made him uncomfortable. He noticed the cup of steaming
coffee in her now-ungloved hand. She lifted it to her wide mouth, blowing to cool it even as she sipped at the hot, thickly black coffee. He still couldn’t stomach the strong coffee everyone on the ranch drank with such regularity unless he drowned it in milk.

“You shouldn’t be drinking that stuff.” He jerked the string tying his bedroll and unrolled the mattresslike quilt pad with its sheets, quilt, and canvas tarp bound inside. “It’ll stunt your growth.”

“I been drinking coffee since I was six.” Scoffing amusement riddled her voice. “I’d hate to think how tall I’d be now if I hadn’t.” She paused, then added for good measure, “And it hasn’t made my hair curly or grown hair on my chest.”

After he had the pad and blankets straightened out, Ty set the duffel bag with his clothes and shaving kit at the head of the bed for a pillow. When the girl showed no signs of leaving, he stretched himself out the full length of the bed and set his hat forward on the front of his face.

“I’m going to get some rest,” Ty said, in case she hadn’t got the message. The hat partially muffled his voice.

“See you tonight,” Jessy Niles replied, not finding his behavior in the least rude, and straightened from the doorway to saunter down the hall to the common room.