Linda Warren - Caitlyn's Prize

He gripped his Stetson so tight he bent the rim. “You wanted me to beg you to stay?”

“No. I wanted to talk. I wanted to have a say in our wedding, our marriage, our life.”

He drew back. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. You planned the wedding.”

“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes. “I was to wear your mother’s wedding dress and the wedding would be at Southern Cross. Soon after, I was to produce babies and heirs, preferably all male.”

He frowned deeply. “My father requested that you wear my mother’s dress and—”

“No. He demanded, and you backed him up.” She cut him off faster than a road hog on the freeway. “I was never asked. Every freaking woman on the planet dreams of picking out her own damn wedding dress.”

“It’s a little late to be discussing this now.”

“You got it, so take your offer of a sale and stuff it. I have six months and I’m taking every second of that time.”

“Your sisters might have something to say about that.”

“I can handle my sisters.”

He stared at her and she resisted the urge to move away. He was too close, too powerful. But she stood her ground, despite shaky knees and an even shakier disposition.

“You’ve gotten hard, Caitlyn,” he remarked, his eyes roaming over her face. Heat rose in her abdomen and traveled up to bathe her cheeks.

“Really? Your own edges are so hard they’d cut glass,” she retorted.

His eyes met hers then. “That’s what you did to us.” Saying that, he walked out.

She sucked in a breath and an errant tear slipped from her eye. He had to have the last word, and it was effective, engaging all her feminine emotions. Guilt invaded her conscience and that made her mad.

Judd Calhoun would not get to her.

AFTER SUPPER, they sat at the kitchen table and talked about the future. Etta, Rufus and Cooper were all the help Caitlyn had, and they always ate together. Cooper lived in the bunkhouse, and Etta and Rufus’s home was the first log cabin that Caitlyn’s forefathers had built on the property.

Etta took a seat after checking on Gran. Cait had decided not to tell her grandmother until she felt Gran was ready to hear the news.

“How is she?” Cait asked.

“Still playing with those old clothes. Miss Dorie needs to get a grip on reality, but I don’t know how she’s going to handle what’s happening now. Lordy, Lordy.” Etta shook her head. “But I know one thing. I’m not playing Prissy from Gone with the Wind again. Enough is enough.”

“Now you’d make a good Prissy,” Ru said, chewing on a toothpick. “A mite too skinny, though.”

“Now you listen here—”

Caitlyn made a time-out sign. “Take a breather. We have bigger problems than Gran’s make-believe. I’m open for suggestions.”

Coop rested his forearms on the old oak table. “June is a couple of days away and we’ll have plenty of hay to bale. We can keep what we need and sell the rest. And, of course, sell some of the stock.”

Cait took a sip of her tea. “I only want to do that as a last resort. Without cattle we can’t operate this ranch.”

“Don’t worry about my wages, Cait,” Coop said. “I have a place to live, and food. All I need are a few bucks for beer, and gas for my truck.”

“Same goes for Etta and me,” Rufus added.

“I appreciate everyone’s help. My sisters will be here in a few days and we’ll decide what to do.”

“No offense—” Coop swiped a hand through his sandy-blond hair “—but they’re city girls. They don’t know much about ranching.”

“They’re owners of High Five, though, same as me.”

“Yep.” Ru reached for his worn hat. “Things are getting rough around here. I think I’ll mosey over to our place and stretch out for a while.”

“Just wipe your feet before you go in,” Etta told him.

“Woman, don’t be a pain in my ass.”

Cait was in the process of interrupting when there was a loud knock on the back door.

Chance Hardin, Etta and Rufus’s nephew, poked his head in. “Hey, I wondered where everyone was.”

When Etta’s brother and sister-in-law were killed in a car accident, Etta and Rufus had taken in their three boys. Chance was the only one still around High Cotton, and he checked on his aunt and uncle often.

“Chance.” Etta threw herself at him and hugged him tightly.

“Let him go, for heaven sakes,” Ru said. “You’re gonna choke him to death.”

Cait noticed Ru squeezing Chance’s shoulder, too. They were both glad to see him.

Etta drew back, her bony fingers smoothing her nephew’s chambray shirt. “Why didn’t you call and let us know you were coming? We’d have waited supper. Are you hungry? We have plenty.”

“No. I’ve already eaten. I was just passing by and wanted to say hi.”

“Hi, Chance,” Caitlyn said.

“Ah, Cait, the most beautiful woman in High Cotton.”

She grinned. “Yeah. Me and every woman you meet.”

He met her grin with a stellar one of his own. “Damn. Beautiful and smart. Can’t beat that with a sledgehammer.” He turned to Cooper. “Hey, Coop.”

“Chance.” The cowboy shook his hand. “What are you doing these days?”

“Working my butt off for the big oil companies.”

“You still out on the rigs?”

“You bet. Pays good money. We’re drilling over at the McGruder place, about thirty miles from here.”

“I know. I’ve been by the place a few times and saw a lot dump trucks going in and out of there.”

“Yeah. Old man McGruder is smart as a whip. This is the second well we’ve drilled on his property, and he probably has money coming out the wazoo. But now he’s selling sand and gravel off his land.”

“Who buys it, and for what?” Cait asked curiously.

“He sold a lot of sand and gravel to the oil company. They have to have it to build roads to the oil pads, so the big rig and trucks can go in and out without getting stuck. Of course, we had to have water for drilling, so Mr. McGruder got a new water well. They use the pea gravel for drilling, too. He’s also selling sand to a home builder who uses it for the foundation of new houses.”

“Bart did that back in the eighties when things got a little tight,” Rufus said.

“Where?” Cait asked, not remembering that.

“The southwest pasture. We don’t run cattle there.”

“How about some pie?” Etta interrupted.

Caitlyn picked up the leftover chocolate pie from the table and handed it to her. “Go spend some time with Chance. I’ll clean the kitchen.”

“No, I—”

Cait gently nudged them out the door, knowing they wanted to visit.

“I’ll help,” Coop offered.

Within minutes they had the kitchen clean. Cait laid the dish towel over the edge of the sink.

“Are you okay?” the cowboy asked.

She wiped her hands down her faded jeans. “Not really. I don’t know how I’m going to save this ranch. With the oil and gas royalties, I was able to rebuild the herd Dad had sold. We were just getting to a point were we might show a profit. But if we have to sell off cows that won’t happen.”

“A calf crop will be ready to market in June. That will help.”

“Yeah, but it won’t be enough to see us through a dry summer.” She massaged her temples. “It’s a bitch when the past comes back and bites you in the butt.”

Coop leaned against the cabinet. “How much gambling money did your dad owe?”

Cait dropped her hands. “I didn’t ask.” And she should have. Where was her brain? Going down guilt avenue at full throttle. Damn it. That should have been her first question. But her senses were too busy remembering what it was like to be in love with Judd.