Lois Dyer – Cade Coulter's Return (страница 7)

She’d never expected payment for being kind to him. She’d often told him it was her privilege to ease his last days on earth. She had no other family and knowing Joseph felt a paternal affection for her warmed her heart and enriched her life.

No, she told herself with conviction, if Joseph hadn’t welcomed her into his life on the Triple C along with Pete and J.T., she would have been alone.

It was impossible to imagine Joseph harming his sons, yet Cade’s comments about his father had rang with truth.

If she accepted Cade’s damning statement, she felt disloyal to Joseph.

If she hadn’t dearly loved the old man, she thought, she’d pack her bags, turn over the house keys to Joseph’s oldest son, and move into town.

But she had loved Joseph. So she’d guard her tongue and swallow angry replies—at least until Cade had time to grow familiar with the workings of the Triple C.

She sighed and made her way to bed but sleep eluded her and she lay awake much too long, pondering and worrying about the changes that were sure to follow Cade’s return to the Triple C.

Chapter Three

After leaving Mariah at her cabin, Cade kept walking, past the bunkhouse to the barn. He’d been caught off guard by the urge to bend his head and taste her mouth. He hadn’t been tempted to act impulsively with a woman since he was a kid and he couldn’t help fantasizing about what she’d look like out of those snug, faded jeans.

He stopped to look in on Jiggs, entering the barn through a small door to the right of the bigger, wide-plank door. Overhead lights flashed on with the flick of the switch just inside the door and Jiggs lifted his muzzle from a water pail, nickering when he saw Cade.

“Hey, boy.” Cade ran a quick assessing gaze over the black’s quarters. Fresh straw bedding covered the floor of the box stall. The manger was filled with hay and Jiggs looked happy and content. He made a mental note to thank J.T. “Looks like the kid treated you right.”

Jiggs bobbed his head up and down before he nuzzled Cade’s jacket pocket.

“Sorry,” Cade told him. “No apples tonight. I forgot to buy any in town. I’ll get some tomorrow.”

Jiggs whuffed in disappointment. Cade chuckled and smoothed his palm down the black’s face and muzzle.

“You’re spoiled.” He patted the black’s strong neck and turned away. He looked back just before he snapped off the light and grinned at the horse’s disappointed expression.

Cade left the barn and crossed the ranch yard. He’d put off entering the house for as long as he could. Automatically, he scraped mud from his boots before going inside. He closed the door behind him, flipped the light switch on the wall to his right and halted, pausing to sweep the big main room with an assessing glance.

It looked the same. In fact, he thought, it was as if the house were frozen in time. The worn leather sofa and matching big chair with its ottoman were scuffed and worn but still solid and familiar. Above the huge fireplace, the heavy oak plank that his father had used to create the mantel still held a collection of framed photos and two glass oil lamps. Several stacks of magazines and books were neatly spaced atop the carved oak coffee table in front of the sofa. A small table with a lamp sat next to the cherrywood sewing rocker beside the hearth.

He crossed the room to the fireplace and with one hand, set the rocker moving gently back and forth. For a long moment, he stared at the four framed photographs before he picked up the largest, an 8 × 10 studio photo of his family. His mother’s green eyes glowed with the same happiness that curved her mouth in a smile. His father’s arm was slung over her shoulder, tucking her protectively against his side. Cade and his three brothers were little-boy stairsteps ranged in front of their parents. Melanie Coulter’s hand rested on Cade’s shoulder.

Cade could feel his mother’s warm, loving touch as if the Coulter family had posed for the portrait only yesterday. An old, familiar pain burned in his gut and he absentmindedly rubbed his chest, just to the left of center. When he realized what he was doing, he jerked his hand away and set the photo back on the mantel.

Maybe I’m not as immune to memories as I thought.

He rolled his shoulders, shrugging off the unwelcome introspection, and turned his back on the collection of photographs, striding across the room to enter the kitchen. Here, too, time seemed to have stood still. In the far corner, the heavy wooden chair with scarred legs was pushed neatly up to the long kitchen table. Cade remembered too well how his mother had loved the table and chairs, a gift from husband and sons for her birthday. After she died, the table had grown dusty and lost its polish, the chairs earning scars from her sons’ spurs knocking into the carved legs.

He shrugged out of his coat and hung it over the back of a chair, hooking his hat on the corner. He gave the room one last cursory survey, checked to make sure the coffee canister was nearly full in the cabinet above the coffeemaker next to the sink, and left the room.

Joseph Coulter’s office was just down the hall from the living room. Cade pushed open the door, flipped on the light switch and stepped inside.

The big desk faced the door. Cade walked across the room and behind it, pausing to scan the framed map of the Triple C and surrounding ranches that hung on the wall. The boundaries of the huge ranch were etched in solid black.

Cade was struck anew at his father’s obvious determination to hold the land. Given the financial straits the ranch was in, he knew Joseph must have been strapped for cash.

And judging by how little paint remained on the shabby buildings, he thought grimly, the Triple C had probably been running on short rations for a long time.

He dropped into the worn leather seat of the wooden swivel desk chair. The desktop was free of dust and a black accounting ledger was centered on the blotter. Three sharpened pencils, a blue ink pen, a red ink pen and a short ruler were tucked into a heavy pottery mug sitting to one side of the blotter.

Everything was clean and very neat. Cade guessed Mariah was probably responsible for the tidy house.

He flipped the ledger open to the latest entries, neat columns in red and black ink. The red ink column was much longer than the black.

Restless and unwilling to begin what was sure to be a grim review of the Triple C’s finances, Cade closed the ledger and shoved back the chair. The books could wait until morning. He left the room to collect his coat and walk to his truck. The temperature had dropped since he’d come inside and a slight breeze chilled his bare face and hands, ruffling his hair. It took only moments to collect his duffel bag from his truck cab and he jogged back to the house, entering the warm living room. He hung his coat on the pegs just inside the front door before climbing the staircase to the house’s second floor.

The banister was worn smooth as silk beneath his palm. Cade had a swift mental image of his mother laughing as he and his brothers slid down into his father’s waiting arms. Joseph had caught and deposited each of them with swift efficiency, then lectured them sternly about the danger of falling. But his mouth had twitched with a smile as he warned them, just before he picked them up and packed them into the living room to wrestle in front of the fire.

The world had been a different, happier place before his mother died and Joseph started drinking.

Ten years of watching his father try to drown his grief in a bottle had taught Cade two unforgettable lessons. First, he was never getting married because a man in love could be sucked into hell if he lost the woman. And second, he was never having kids. Because what was the likelihood he wouldn’t repeat his father’s mistakes?

There are too many ghosts in this house, he thought grimly as he started down the upstairs hall.

Five closed doors lined the hallway and Cade automatically strode to the far end before turning the knob and entering the room.

He halted abruptly, his gaze slowly sweeping the room. Like the rest of the house, his childhood bedroom seemed caught in a time warp, preserved just as it was the last time he’d walked out, closed the door and left the Triple C all those years ago. Too tired to deal with the wash of emotions, he slammed the door on the sadness, regret and memories to focus on the old-fashioned brass bed, made up with fresh linens, the blankets and flannel sheets turned back invitingly. Cade dropped his duffel on the seat of a straight-backed wooden chair, unzipping the bag to pull out clean shorts and a T-shirt. He carried them across the hall and into the bathroom. Here, too, all was neat with clean towels and washcloths hung on the bar next to the sink and shower stall.

Cade stripped and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water pour over him, easing muscles that ached after the long hours he’d spent driving. He’d been on the road by 3:00 a.m. each day, taking advantage of the early morning hours and nearly traffic-free highways.