Page 26 of Calder Country

The anger that surged in Mason was the kind that would have sent his fists slamming into his opponent if he’d been in prison. But this was his brother, and his family was nearby. Mason held himself in check—for Joseph and Hannah, if for no other reason.

“I’m not a fool, Blake,” he said. “I don’t want trouble. I only came into town to get dinner. But thanks to you, I’ve lost my appetite. So go back in and join your family. I’ll treat myself when I can enjoy my meal in peace.”

With that, he turned away and walked out to his car. The Dodge Touring Car was gone. Mason had glimpsed it driving off, following Webb’s Packard out of town on the road to the Triple C. Questions sprang to mind. Was Mason’s customer using the Calder ranch as a secret base for distributing bootleg whiskey—or was Webb himself involved? Maybe Webb’s own supply was dwindling; or maybe the Triple C was running low on cash.

Dismissing the questions, he started the car, swung it around in the dusty street, and headed back to the ranch. As long as his customers kept buying and paying, what happened to the liquor after it left his hands was none of his business, Mason reminded himself.

Neither was the means by which it was delivered to him—although his wish to see Ruby again had deepened into a craving. There were plenty of beautiful women in the world. She was one of them. But the skill in her calloused hands and the sorrow in the depths of those dark eyes had stirred him in an unexpected way. As for the courage required to take her life in her hands, piloting a craft of wood, wire, cloth, and glue, propelled by a temperamental engine, into the far reaches of the sky, that simply astounded him. He knew almost nothing about her except that she was widowed, brave, and subtly sensual. He burned to know more.

Even if it meant finding out that she was Colucci’s woman.

* * *

With the trail lit by a midnight moon, Joseph rode his horse down the side of the bluff. He’d discovered the shortcut a few weeks ago. The way was narrow, steep in spots, but shorter than the main switchback road and less visible from the house. For a young man sneaking out to see a girl, that was important.

His parents didn’t know he had a girl. But then, there were a lot of things they didn’t know, especially about this girl.

Annabeth Coleman’s family lived on a small farm beyond the border of the Dollarhide property. Her father raised a few scrawny cows and sold the milk for enough to feed and shelter his five ragged children. Her mother’s reputation was the subject of whispers in town, but that wasn’t Annabeth’s fault. She couldn’t help having been born into a poor family—any more than she could help her stunning blue eyes, her mane of honey gold hair, or her voluptuous sixteen-year-old figure.

She was waiting by the pasture gate when Joseph rode up, her thin nightgown blowing around her bare legs. Joseph’s pulse skipped at the sight of her. As she ran to him, he bent down to catch her hand and pull her up behind him on the horse’s bare back. She sprang into place, her arms gripping his waist, her knees spooning against his thighs.

“Let’s go before we get caught,” she said.

He nudged the gelding to a lope. Her clasp tightened around him as they flew across the fields. Joseph could feel her breasts against his back. The awareness that she was naked under her nightgown triggered a familiar tightness beneath his trousers.

Earlier that summer, he’d come across her bathing at a wide place in the creek, her clothes laid out on the bank. He’d spent guilt-ridden minutes watching her from behind the screen of willows, transfixed by the beauty of her ivory breasts, the nipples shrunk to beads by the cold water. As his body sprang to readiness, she’d looked directly at him and laughed. It appeared she’d been aware of him all along.

That first encounter had been little more than a tease, with her ordering him to turn his back while she dressed. But from there, things had progressed according to Mother Nature’s plan. Now, all he could think of was having her again.

After reining to a stop on Dollarhide land, he lowered Annabeth to the ground. Dismounting, he ground-staked the horse and followed her through a thicket of willows toward the sound of a gurgling spring. She was barefoot, her steps heedless of rocks and brambles. Summers without shoes had left her feet as tough as leather. As she slipped through the willows, he lost sight of her for a moment. When he emerged into the clearing, she was lying on the grass in a pool of moonlight, her wispy nightgown barely covering her body.

Laughing, she held out her arms to him. “Come here, Joseph,” she said.

He fumbled with his belt and trousers, letting them fall over his boots. She opened her legs to welcome him in. Wild with teenage lust, they bucked and thrust in the moonlit grass, breathing in ecstatic gasps.

But Joseph was no fool. As he felt his climax surging, he prepared to do what he’d always done before—stop moving and pull out. This time she prevented him. Her legs locked around his hips, holding him inside her. “No!” she moaned.

Too late, he lost control.

Muttering, he rolled off onto his back. “Blast it, Annabeth, what did you go and do that for? We’re not ready to deal with having a baby.”

She snuggled against his side. “I’d be all right with it. We could get married and live on your ranch. Think of the great life we could have there. We could help out around the place and raise our family. Then, when your folks passed on, you’d be in charge of it all—the ranch and the mill.”

He sighed. “What if I don’t want to be in charge? What if I want a different life?”

“Like what?” She sat up and pulled down her nightgown.

“I want to be a pilot. I want to fly airplanes.”

She snorted. “That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard! Where would we get money? And what would I do if you crashed? I’d have to go back to my family.”

Joseph groped for a reply that would satisfy her. He’d fancied himself in love with Annabeth. But he’d never thought of her in terms of marriage. They were too young for that kind of responsibility—especially if a baby was involved.

Joseph’s own father had run out on a girl he’d gotten pregnant. Blake had stepped in, married Hannah, claimed her son, and saved them from a future of poverty and shame. But a happy ending like theirs wasn’t going to happen a second time. If Annabeth was pregnant, Joseph knew he would have no choice except to take responsibility—even if it meant the end of his dream.

For now, there was nothing to do but wait.

Standing, he pulled up his trousers, fastened his belt, and reached down to give Annabeth a hand up. “Come on,” he said. “It’s time to get you home.”

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