The Rancher's Homecoming (5 page)

The fact that she was not for Rex, either, was beside the point.

That didn't keep Rex from worrying that Dolent might be at the house making a nuisance of himself while he was out in the field trying to replace the drive chain on the baler. He finally decided that he didn't have the proper tools to repair the baler in the field. Hot, tired, disgusted and frustrated, Rex hitched the thing to the ranch truck and hauled it back to the barn.

He thought Callie might come out to see what was up, but she seemed as determined to keep her distance from him as he ought to keep his distance from her. At least Dolent wasn't within sight.

Rex left the baler in the barn and called an early end to the workday. It was Saturday, after all. Not that work on the ranch ever let up.

He walked into the house to find two things that shocked him: it was cool, and Callie had just pushed Wes into the living room in the hated wheelchair that he'd vowed never to use.

“Pick your jaw up off the floor,” Wes grumbled. “I got sick of that bed, but the living room is a long way from my bedroom. Besides, Callie pointed out that I could get to church tomorrow if I was willing to give this chair a go.”

Rex had not intended to take his father to church this Sunday, but if doing so was the cost of getting him out of that bed more often and into this chair, so be it. Telegraphing his thanks to Callie with a smile, Rex nodded. Bodie let out a squeal from the other room, and Wes chuckled as Callie hurried to tend to her.

“That girl never stops hopping. Reminds me of when you kids were small.” He looked up at Rex and asked, “Got time for a game of chess before dinner?”

“Just let me clean up first,” Rex answered.

“Sure.” Wes picked up the TV remote from the coffee table at his knee and aimed it at the big flat-screen that Rex and his sisters had bought him for Christmas last year.

Rex hurried to the stairs, but a few steps up he paused to look down on the familiar scene below. Cowhide rugs covered plank flooring. The oak occasional tables, at least fifty years old, stood as solid and strong as ever. The leather on the old couch had started to crack in places, and his father's recliner, easily the newest piece in the room, sagged and dipped. The shades on the glass and wrought-iron lamps had yellowed horribly, as had the blinds on the windows. Yet, the room exuded comfort and stability.

Home
, he thought, stunned by the realization. Even after all these years, this was still home in a way that the luxury condo he owned in Tulsa never could be. Everything here said
home
to him, from the rugged cross hanging over the fireplace to the schoolhouse clock and candelabra on the mantel. Funny, it hadn't felt that way before Callie had come.

Shaking his head, he climbed the stairs. For the first time, he faced the possibility of what might happen to the place if Wes could never resume control of the day-to-day operations. The Straight Arrow would essentially cease to exist. They'd have to sell off the acreage in order to pay the taxes on the home place, the house and the few acres surrounding it. But for whom? After Wes, who would live here?

Rex hoped to have children of his own someday, but he wasn't getting any younger. Thirty-seven wasn't too old to start a family, of course, and when he did finally have his own children they surely might have some interest in this place. That they might not seemed...unthinkable suddenly. Unbearable.

He wondered why he hadn't realized it before now.

Later he played chess with his dad while Callie puttered around the kitchen and moved in and out of the living room, carrying Bodie. They enjoyed another fine meal together, and afterward Callie played quietly with Bodie on the floor while he and Wes watched television. Then she put the baby to sleep, and he listened to her moving about the house until she, too, turned in for the night. Wes went to bed as soon as his program ended. Rex sat up alone, listening to the TV and worrying about his father, only to dream of Callie when he finally did sleep and woke the next morning thinking of his mother and church.

It had been some time since Rex had attended church with any regularity, but Countryside had been good to his parents, and he'd happily fellowship there. He put on a suit and tie even before he headed downstairs for breakfast. Adjusting the knot in his tie, Rex looked at his image in the spotty mirror over the dresser in his bedroom.

His mom had finally removed the school logos and sports posters from the walls, but the rodeo-themed curtains and bedcovers remained. Once upon a time, his chief ambition in life had been to make a name for himself in rodeo. His father had wisely insisted that he do so
after
college. The urge hadn't survived his first semester at Oklahoma University. Eventually he'd given up his jeans for a suit, but the boots...well, those had just gotten more expensive. He wouldn't know how to walk in shoes. He did know how to turn down the collar on a shirt made especially for him and shrug into a jacket tailored to his exact measurements.

The suit jacket hung a little loose around his middle now. No surprise there. He'd had to take up his belt a notch when he'd pulled on his pants this morning.

He picked up a brush and swept back his thick brown hair. It wasn't as dark as it had been even a week ago. He needed to remember to wear a hat. He still had a pair of them in the closet.

Strapping on his wristwatch, he checked the time. Better get a move on. Wes would need help dressing, and loading Wes and his wheelchair into the truck would take a few extra minutes. He went out along the hallway to the stairs. Before his foot took the first step down, Callie came out of her room with Bodie in her arms.

He could do nothing but stare at the wholesome beauty of her. She wore a spring-green dress, simple and sleeveless with a gently flared skirt and modestly scooped neckline. Bodie wore the same white sandals as her mom and a delicate pink-and-white striped dress over ruffled bloomers.

“I don't know which one of you looks more adorable,” he said. Callie dropped her gaze, a delicate blush coloring her cheeks.

“That would be Bodie,” she said in a playful voice, jostling her daughter. “Thank you.”

He stepped back, waving a hand for her and the baby to go first. “You're welcome.”

She reached inside her room and snagged a large handbag before hurrying onto the stairs. “You, um, clean up well.”

Surprised—and ridiculously pleased—he slid a hand over his diminished middle, confiding, “Lost a little weight.”

“Working in the heat will do that.”

“No kidding. It will also fry your brain.”

She laughed, but whatever she might have said got lost in the sound of knocking at the front door. Tossing a glance over her shoulder at Rex, Callie hurried downstairs. He joined her in the entryway, just as she pulled open the carved oak door.

“Dolent,” Rex said, hoping he didn't sound as disgusted as he felt.

At the same time she exclaimed, “Ben!”

The squat silo manager stood there in a too-large, too-pale Western suit and a tan beaver cowboy hat. What looked like a brand-new Bible was folded against his chest in one chubby fist.

“I come to take you to church,” he announced happily. “I know you'll want to go to your own church in town.”

“No,” Callie said flatly, her hand still on the door.

Dolent's smile faltered. “But you don't ever miss church. Your husband was a minister, wasn't he?”

“He was,” Callie said. Surprised, Rex glanced at her and back at Dolent. “That's not the point.”

“I don't understand,” Dolent whined.

“I'll be attending with the Billings family from now on,” Callie explained.

“But—”

“Wes might need me,” she said, starting to close the door, “but thanks, anyway.”

“Wait!” Dolent insisted. “What if he's too sick to go to church?”

“I'll make sure she gets there,” Rex heard himself say. Callie's shoulders lowered, as if she relaxed, and he stepped closer, grasping the edge of the door above her hand. Bodie reached for it, too, but her arm was much too short, so she touched Rex's arm instead. Somehow reassured by that tiny hand damp with drool, he promised, “Even if Wes is too ill to attend church, I'll see to it that Callie and Bodie get there.”

Callie shifted, bringing her back into the lightest contact possible with his upraised arm. Rex felt that contact all the way into his chest.

“You shouldn't have come, Ben,” Callie said gently but firmly, “not without calling first. I could've saved you the trip if you'd just called.”

Ben Dolent looked as if he might explode. Or cry.

Suddenly, without another word, he spun on his heels and hurried across the porch.

“Bye-bye,” Bodie said, waving the damp hand with which she'd touched Rex.

Rex pushed the door closed, just in case Callie might be thinking better of it. She bowed her head then slowly turned and looked up at him.

“I feel like I just kicked a puppy.”

“A puppy that needs some training.”

Callie smiled. “True. By the way, thank you.”

“For?”

“Promising to take us to church regularly.”

“Ah. No problem.”

She nodded, giving him one of those small, close-lipped smiles of hers. The problem with that particular smile was that it increasingly made him want to kiss her, and
that
was not part of the plan.

Unfortunately, for a moment, he couldn't remember just what the plan was supposed to be.

Oh, yeah. He was heading back to Tulsa as soon as his dad could take over the ranch again.

Well, in the meantime it wouldn't kill him to attend church regularly while he was here.

He could think of worse things, much worse things, especially with Callie smiling beside him.

Chapter Five

“S
leep, baby girl.”

Callie tucked the featherweight blanket lightly around Bodie's relaxed form, knowing that the child would likely kick it off within the next ten minutes but unable to resist the instinct to cover her. Fed, dry and exhausted from a morning of new faces and experiences at Countryside Church, Bodie slept deeply. Wes, too, slumbered after the midday meal. Callie would gladly have joined them, but Rex had gone out to the barn to tackle the baler again, saying that he dared not lose another day before getting it back into the field.

Stuart was religious about keeping the Sabbath, but Bo, being in ministry, had found it necessary to work on Sundays, and Callie had noticed that her father never seemed to mind that
she
labored on Sundays to provide his meals and make him comfortable. As Bo had said,
One person's labor may honor another's Sabbath, while holiness comes from the heart.

She went downstairs, dropped several mint leaves into a quart jar, added ice cubes and a cup of apple juice, then filled it the rest of the way with unsweetened tea. Taking a pair of apples with her, she walked out to the barn.

Rex had the baler jacked up so high that it practically lay on its side. His shirt off, he was using a come-along, or wire stretcher, to slip the drive chain onto the baler. Those shoulders were even broader than she'd realized. Flustered, she placed the apples on the workbench and cleared her throat, but Rex was too busy to notice.

“Brought you something cold.”

Rex spun around. She dropped her gaze, but not before she glimpsed smooth muscle. From the corner of her eye, she saw Rex reach for the chambray shirt he'd draped over the fender of the baler. Hearing snaps closing and steps scuffing, she held out the jar. Only after he took it from her hand did she lift her gaze. He brought the jar to his lips and drank deeply, tilting back his head.

“Oh, man, that's good,” he said, holding the jar to his forehead.

“Need some help?”

He looked at her blue T-shirt, jeans and canvas shoes, then down at his greasy hands. “You sure?”

She nodded. “I can get all the way under there. You can't. Smart idea, by the way, using the come-along. There's a special tool for that, though.”

“Well, if we've got one, I couldn't find it,” he said before taking another long drink.

“This'll work. Just don't let that thing slip and hit me.”

He grinned. “Don't worry. I'm not about to risk my best employee.”

Chuckling, she held out her hand. “Got the pulley pin?”

He fished it out of his pocket and handed it to her, saying, “You've done this before.”

“I have.” Crouching, she crawled under the baler. It was dark, dirty and smelled of oil, gasoline and alfalfa. “Hay smells green.”

“Yeah. Means we've still got a couple weeks to get it in. We're going to need it.”

“Got a flashlight? I'm blocking what light there is under here.”

“Hold on.”

She heard him rummaging around. After a minute or two, he passed her a heavy-duty flashlight.

She went to her knees, eased her upper body into the workings of the machine and shone a light on the chain, following it.

“I don't know how you did,” she told him, “but it looks great. You've got a couple loose bolts here, though, and they need tightening before we lock this chain. Pass me an adjustable wrench.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Before they got all the adjustments made, he had to go to his back on the ground while she held the light with one hand and guided him with the other to get the wrench properly placed and the necessary bolt effectively tightened. Finally, Callie was ready to put the pin in place.

After working several minutes, she finally had to admit that, while she could get the pin in the hole, she couldn't push it flat. “I'm just not strong enough.”

Rex tried to reach the small metal peg but his big hand wouldn't fit into the space available. “If I just had a pair of pliers with really long handles,” he mused. Suddenly he started scrambling out from under the baler, saying, “I have an idea.”

Callie heard him rummaging around in the toolbox and muttering to himself. He returned a minute or so later, pulling on his work gloves. He'd fixed a pair of vise grips to each handle of a pair of locking pliers, effectively extending the pliers by several inches. Realizing what he meant to do, Callie put her head next to his and shone the light on the exact spot where the pliers needed to grip. He closed the pliers and squeezed the vise grips with big, strong hands, straining the muscles in his arms, shoulders and neck.

“Aaahhhh!” He fell back, letting his arms drop. “That's all I can do.” He loosened the pliers and removed then. “Was it enough?”

She shone the light on the pin and studied. “Perfect. I can't even see the pin.”

Sighing, Rex patted her hand with his gloved one. “Let's get out from under here.” He tossed away the pliers before rolling out from under the baler and into a sitting position. Callie crawled out on her elbows and knees.

“What would I do without you?” Rex asked, folding his legs and balancing his forearms on his thighs.

Thrilled more than was wise, Callie got up and went to the workbench, retrieving the pliers on the way. She traded the pliers, vise grips and the flashlight for the apples, which she carried back to Rex. When she offered an apple to him, he took it with a chuckle, tossing it lightly before biting into it. Callie went down on her knees again then sank into a sitting position, her legs curled to one side.

“I could say the same about you,” she told him. “This job gives me a way out of my situation, and your promise to take me to church closes one more avenue for Ben to plague me.”

He shook his head and asked, “What is the deal with Dolent?”

She sighed. “He believes whatever my father tells him.”

“So no matter how many times you tell him no, as long as Stuart keeps encouraging him, he'll keep showing up.”

“I'm afraid so.”

“I don't get it,” Rex said. “Why would Stuart want you with a clod like that?”

Callie turned her apple over in her hands. “I defied Dad once and married against his wishes, and Dad seems to believe that Bo's death is a direct result of that defiance. All I can figure is that he's determined to keep me from making what he sees as another mistake by insisting that I marry someone he can control.”

“How did your husband die?” Rex asked gently, looking at her from beneath the crag of his brow.

“He drowned,” Callie said softly. “We operated a Christian youth encampment at Turner Falls. There was a flash flood, the first in decades.”

His brow furrowed, Rex said, “I heard about that. I thought nearly everyone got out safe. I read that some fellow got a family out of a car and was washed away...trying to save a child.” Callie bowed her head, smiling even as tears filled her eyes. “They hailed him as a hero,” Rex finished slowly.

“That was my Bo,” she whispered. “They found him holding that baby. She was three. They're buried side by side.”

“Callie, I'm so sorry.”

She nodded, but then she smiled and said. “I'm not. He was a good man, and he did the right thing. He made me happy and proud. Now I have to do the right thing by his daughter, even if my dad doesn't understand.”

“I don't understand why Stuart is so against you working.”

“He isn't against me working. I work all the time in his businesses. He's against me earning my own money. Because he knows that Bodie and I will move away from War Bonnet when I have the means to do so.”

“You said Bo didn't leave you anything.”

“Not even the money to bury him with,” she confided. “There wasn't time. We weren't married even six months.”

“That's tough.”

“God provided. People were very good. A local funeral home donated their services. The family who lost their little girl paid for the plot. Area churches chipped in to buy a headstone. People all over the state sent money to help repair the campgrounds. My ob-gyn even donated his services when he learned what happened, but full-time day care is so expensive, and the couple weeks I had to take off when she was born put me behind. Then she got sick, and I had to take off work again. My only option seemed to be to move back to my father's house. I knew getting out again would be difficult. I just didn't figure on Ben Dolent.”

“So you want to leave town,” Rex said, shifting closer.

“Not really.” She shook her head. “War Bonnet's my home. But I have no choice. No one will give me steady, paying work here. They're too afraid of my dad. So I've got to go somewhere else.”

“I see.”

“We won't go far,” she told him. “Ringling, maybe, or Comanche, someplace where Stuart Crowsen doesn't have his finger in every pie.”

“Those are still small towns,” Rex pointed out, “not much bigger than War Bonnet, probably less than two thousand people.”

“Small-town life is what I want for my girl,” Callie said. “It's what her daddy wanted for her. I'll try Duncan or Ardmore, if I can't find work in a smaller town.”

“Neither is exactly a metropolis,” Rex noted. “What are their populations? Twenty-five thousand, tops? There are more students at the University of Oklahoma.”

“That seems pretty big to me,” Callie admitted. “Just think of it. You could live there your whole life and not know a tenth of the people.”

“Never thought of it that way,” Rex admitted, frowning.

She changed the subject, polishing her apple on her thigh. “What did you think of the church service this morning?” Taking a big bite, she waited for him to do the same.

“It was different.”

“How so?”

“First time I've ever seen the pastor play guitar in the praise band.”

She laughed. “He's pretty good.”

“He is, on the guitar and in the pulpit.”

Callie nodded. “Folks aren't so concerned about appearances at Countryside. They enjoy worship. I'm all for reverence, but I think God has a sense of fun, too.”

“He must. There was lots of laughter out there this morning, and I got the feeling that's the norm.”

“I hope so,” Callie said, getting to her feet. “Better go check on my sleepers now.”

“I'll be in shortly,” Rex said, following suit. “Thanks again, Callie.”

She nodded and started to walk away, but then she stopped and turned back. “Just so you know, this job, you, you're an answered prayer for me.”

Rex opened his mouth, and for a moment she thought he might speak, but then he bowed his head, and she went on, strangely pleased and, for the moment at least, at peace.

* * *

Answered prayer. When on God's green earth had he ever been such a thing for anyone else? The idea shamed Rex. Callie Deviner shamed Rex. She worked daylight to dark without ever uttering a word of complaint. Just the opposite, in fact. She worked hard
and
was downright pleasant about it. Wes loved her. She'd made a huge difference around here and earned every cent of her pay.

Moreover, Rex was man enough to admit that the heartbreak she'd endured would have destroyed him. He could barely imagine how alone and helpless she must have felt when her husband had died. In his own case, anger and hurt pride had overshadowed any pain or sense of loss that he'd felt at Amy's betrayal, and that told him an uncomfortable truth about his past marriage.

He spent a long night in contemplation, coming to the conclusion that he and Amy simply had not loved each other the way Callie and her husband had. Maybe that would have changed over time, but somehow Rex doubted it. He sensed something clean and honest about the way Callie and Bo had loved, something he'd never felt with Amy.

He'd always known that kind of love had thrived between his parents, but somehow he'd thought it was a thing of the past, something that no longer existed in this modern world. Callie made him feel ten times the fool and out of sync with this place and time. Worse, she made him feel...
lonely
. For something he hadn't even known he was missing. That left him unsettled and agitated.

A part of him longed for what his father and Callie seemed to have—a simpler, truer way of life, an easier way of seeing the world. Another part of Rex couldn't wait to get out of War Bonnet, leave Straight Arrow Ranch behind and return to the city and the practice of law with one of the more prestigious firms in Tulsa. This time, his goals would be different, however. This time he'd be less concerned with climbing the corporate ladder and leaving his personal mark and more concentrated on finding the right woman and building the right kind of life.

The right woman had to be out there. Callie proved it. She'd already stood up to her father in more ways that his ex ever would. She had put her man first and even now she honored him. Plus, she was a great mom, a wonderful homemaker and partner—for someone who meant to hang around War Bonnet, which he did not. Didn't he?

Somehow, he wasn't sure anymore. Just thinking of that old baler, he felt a surge of frustration—and an odd satisfaction that he studiously refused to examine. Instead, he got up and trudged through another busy day.

One thing about ranch life was that it never lacked for work to be done, even on a holiday. It also had more than its fair share of irritants: heat, dust, insects, cockleburs, cattle that showed up where they weren't supposed to be, hired hands who thought it was funny to hide bloody calf testicles in his cap when he wasn't looking so that he went in to lunch with smelly hair and had to dunk his head in the water trough before he could even sit down to eat. He had to throw the cap away and get out his old straw cowboy hat. It fit more comfortably than he'd imagined it would.

Callie showed him absolutely no compassion. “Finally blooded you, did they?”