Chapter 2
Chapter 2
T wo days after the surprise visit from The Colonel, Ridge had another shock—his brother called.
It wasn’t that Calhoun never called, but rather that he always called with purpose—Christmas, Thanksgiving, and occasionally a birthday. Cal was six years older and immeasurably tougher. It was telling that Cam was a decorated Navy SEAL, had killed more people than he liked to count, and was still labeled “the sensitive one” in the family.
“What’s up, bud?” Cal began, another oddity. He never called simply to chat or exchange pleasantries. Usually they discussed their parents or the ranch or financial matters. As part of his inheritance, Cam owned thirty percent of the ranch. Upon their father’s death, he would have to decide if he wanted to continue to maintain his portion or allow Cal to buy him out. For now all his profit from that ownership went into a trust.
“Not much, Cal. How about you?”
“Same here. How’s LS?”
LS was Cal’s nickname for Maggie, Little Sister. The two hadn’t spent much time together, but what they had had been enough to form a mutual adoration society. As she did with everyone, Maggie had a way of bypassing outer defenses and going straight for the heart, even with his straight-laced older brother.
“She’s good. The change in seasons had inspired her to bake up a storm.”
Instead of the usual jokes about Cam getting fat, Cal surprised him again. “Tell her to send some of it this way. I’ve been craving pie and babygirl can cook.”
“How’s Isabel?” Cam asked and inwardly winced at the unintended comparison. Isabel could not cook, nor did she try. He knew Cal loved her, but when side by side with Maggie, his sister-in-law came up cold, shallow, empty, and standoffish.
“Same old, same old.”
“How are Mom and Dad?”
“Good. They’re heading your way soon, I think.”
“They are?” Cam asked. His parents hadn’t visited him in forever.
“Maggie,” Cal explained.
“Ah,” Cam said. Maggie was a magnet, pulling people together, even his parents who hated to fly, apparently. “Are you okay?” Cam chanced.
“Me? Shoot, yeah. Busy, though. I could use some of your SEAL mojo down here. The drug smugglers are wearing a path through the south forty, and I’ve got rustlers pressing in from the north.”
Cam made sympathetic sounds of understanding. In recent years, south Texas had become like a war zone. Not that he worried about Cal. His brother could take care of himself. Someone would have to be crazy to… He stood upright and clutched the phone as a new thought occurred. “Wait, did you say you need help?”
“Never thought you’d hear me admit it, huh? But, yeah, things are a bit dodgy down here. ‘Course I know you can’t actually come down here and help, but…”
“I might have someone who can. A soldier, recently discharged, looking for some action.”
“Shoot, we’ve got action and then some,” Cal said. “What’s the guy’s name?”
“Bailey,” Cam said, purposely omitting her gender. His brother was a good man, rock solid, but also an old-school misogynist. Things could go horribly wrong, but Cam was learning to let go of control, to delegate. The Colonel had said Bailey was like him. If that was the case, she’d likely find a way to prove herself to Cal. And if not, well, DC was a long, safe way from Texas.