Chapter Ten
F or all that Cal liked snowfall, November had never been his favorite time of year. The days were short and working outside could be painfully cold. Cattle preferred the open-sided barns at this time of year, but with that came cleanup and the provision of fresh bedding hay and feed. Water pipes froze and burst with monotonous regularity. Time slowed. And every Casey in his orbit became somewhat obsessed with preparation for Thanksgiving, and following swiftly on its heels, Christmas.
He had nothing against midwinter celebrations, truly he didn’t.
He wasn’t complaining.
He’d been hoping Beth and Sam might join him this year at the Casey family Thanksgiving dinner. Instead, they were going to Red’s brother’s place up on the Canadian border for a couple of days and detouring through Kalispell on their way back so they could catch up with Beth’s mother and sister. Sam was looking forward to catching up with his cousins.
Cal didn’t begrudge them that. How could he? Family was important. Just because she was going to see them , didn’t mean Beth intended to neglect him . She’d been spending plenty of time with him.
Why, just last night they’d gone out for steak at Gray’s Saloon, and they’d had a great time. He’d been proud to have her on his arm, and he didn’t care who knew it.
He’d seen her to her door with a simple kiss, mindful that they had an audience. He’d waved to Sam who’d been watching from the window and received an awkward wave and a frown from the boy in reply.
Sam had been awkwardly standoffish ever since he and Beth had started dating. Was he jealous that Cal now commanded some of Beth’s attention? Did he think Cal just plain wasn’t good enough to step into the role Red had vacated?
The one thing Cal did know was that Sam’s behavior had brought with it a whole new world of worry. Because no matter how good Cal and Beth were together, the relationship was doomed if Sam refused to accept him. Cal already knew which way Beth would go if she had to choose between new love and her son.
Same direction she was going for Thanksgiving.
Fix it, you big moose. Talk to Sam. Tell him what you’re hoping for. Find out what’s bothering him.
So here he was, Saturday morning, with a bunch of twisted willow for Christmas wreath making in one hand, and a plan to spend a bit of man-to-boy time with Sam and find out what was wrong.
Sam opened the door at Cal’s second knock, it and if his smile wasn’t as welcoming as it usually was, Cal tried not to let it bruise his heart.
“ Mo-om , Cal’s here.”
“Is he now?”
He hoped she’d kind of been expecting him. He’d said he’d drop the willow round.
“Coffee’s hot. Bring him through.”
Cal followed Sam down the long hallway with the family photos and the mounted stag’s horns and heavy brown wainscoting. Seth had asked him again last week at the family round table if he had any interest whatsoever in taking possession of Beth’s ranch house. He’d said no, never, don’t ask me again , and the silence had been deafening.
They’d asked Mason next, and he’d said he’d think about it.
It wasn’t a bad -looking ranch by any means, even if it did need maintenance. It was just that the inside had way too much of Beth’s past in it, and Cal was all about moving forward. Not at speed. He practically worshipped at the altar of slow and steady as a method of getting ahead. But onward he went.
“Morning, cowboy,” Beth said when she saw him.
She wore loose-fitting jeans, a pale pink long-sleeved T, and her honey-blonde hair had been gathered into a short ponytail and was already showing signs of escape. No hug for him, but her smile was bright and her penny-brown eyes warm and welcoming.
“You brought the willow. And it’s been shaped into circles already. Nice.”
“Only loosely. It’s just easier to get a start on that in the springtime when they’re soft. Apparently, my grandmother was a great one for making a thing out of stripping willow in the spring to make lighter work later.”
“Smart woman, your grandmother.”
She took a mug off a wall peg and looked toward him.
“Not for me. I’m heading over to Jim’s. He picked up a bitch and her pup off the side of the road a few weeks back and hasn’t been able to find the owner. He doesn’t want to keep them because they don’t get on with his huskies. I’m in the market for a dog, so I said I’d take a look.”
“You’re getting a dog?” Sam asked, immediately intrigued.
So much so that his earlier reserve had completely disappeared. Yes, it seemed Cal was getting a dog, if this was the result.
“What sort?”
“Some kind of German shepherd-collie cross, Jim says. Jury’s out on the pup. Paws the size of dinner plates. Could be some Great Pyrenees in the mix. Maremma, even. Jim’s got a few contenders for the pup already, so it’s the bitch I’ll be looking at.” He kept it casual as he prepared to make his pitch. “Want to come with me and help me do a temperament test? Because she’s no good to me if she’s no good around kids. That’s if you’ve done all your chores and your mother can spare you.”
Beth had her arms crossed, eyeballing him levelly. Cal smiled, and tried not to look like a man playing chess while barely knowing the rules of the game. “You can come, too.”
“What if I still have chores to do?” she asked dryly.
“Then you can’t come. I don’t make the rules. I just enforce them.”
“Can I go, Mom? Can I?”
“Have you fed the horses?”
“And took their coats off and let ’em out into the yards and picked up the poop.” Sam nodded. “Can I go?”
“What time will you have him back?” This was Beth in full mom mode and it was sexy as all go get.
“Well, that depends. If I take the dog, we might have to call into the Casey ranch on the way back for dog supplies. And lunch.” The second best way to go about making Sam realize the benefits of maybe one day becoming Cal’s kid was having endless access to Savannah Casey’s love. “You could meet us there for lunch,” he told Beth. “We’re doing Casey Christmas planning, where everyone bids to host something or other.”
She arched a slender eyebrow. “Will there be fisticuffs?”
“Oh, you heard about that? It was only Jett and Seth arguing about who was going to buy the turkey. Cookies were thrown. My mother’s wooden spoon came out and knuckles got rapped. Conflict resolution at its best.” He had the pleasure of seeing Beth’s lips twitch. “It was truly a beautiful moment for the rest of us, given Seth and Jett so rarely fall out. Mason’s been buying Mom new wooden spoons all year. The last one had the Texas star engraved on it. I’m pretty sure Mason plans to decorate the Christmas tree with them.”
“Brothers,” Sam muttered with all the borrowed wisdom of an only-child.
“Exactly.” Cal stifled a grin. “Does not know when to stop, that one.”
“But he’s still your favorite, right, Cal?” Sam said. “Even if he’s a screw up?”
“Language!” Beth said warningly, but Cal was already nodding.
“Yeah, because I know where he’s coming from.” Probably due to the not so small matter of both Mason and Cal carrying underdog status in a family of super high achievers.
Or maybe it had something to do with that time in their teens where Mason nearly froze to death one night after being kidnapped by Cara’s mom and dropped in the middle of nowhere, so he didn’t turn up at the prom. Cal had driven out to collect him once his brother had gotten a phone signal. Cal had been sworn to silence, and then watched in silence as Mason had ripped his own heart out rather than drive a wedge between Cara and her mom. Mason had never breathed a word about why he’d been a no-show at the prom. That had been downright noble .
“Yep. Mason’s my favorite, even when he’s a screw”—he caught Beth’s eye just in time—“top.”
“You’re up to something,” Beth muttered in his direction. “I can tell.”
“Good deeds only,” he protested. “I’m on a rescue mission.” The mission being recalibrating his relationship with Sam and rescuing their future. “Someone’s got to do it.”
“Off you go, then.” She turned her attention to Sam. “I need you back by one at the latest. I have to be at work by three, which means dropping you off at your sleepover at two thirty.”
“You’re working tonight?” Cal asked.
“Split shift until seven. A favor for a colleague.” She smothered a yawn and waved her fingers in their direction. “Shouldn’t you two be on your way?”
Neither Cal nor Sam needed telling twice.
*
Half an hour later, Cal and elderly rancher Jim stood watching as Sam roughhoused in the barn with a pup with elephant-sized feet. The pup was a joyful clown, as far as Cal could tell, and the bitch seemed more German Shepherd in temperament than herding dog and had yet to leave old Jim’s side. Hardly the kind of dogs Cal needed, either of them.
“Whip smart and stick shy, the pair of them,” Jim said cheerfully. “They’ve taken a beating somewhere along the way.”
Cal rested his hand on the bitch’s head and stroked an ear. Her tongue came out and she gave his wrist a quick lick before resuming her careful survey of boy and pup. “Hey, Sam, clip the pup to the horse-lead over there and run toward us, okay? Tell the pup to stay.”
The pup protested as they’d all known he would, and the bitch watched, ears pricked, but she didn’t break her sit, and Sam had more sense than to race up to her, slowing to a walk before he reached them, and then keeping his distance.
“I’ve been calling this one Mama,” said Jim. “Just put your hand out to her so she can have a sniff.”
“What kind of a name’s that?” Cal grumbled.
“More of a description,” Jim said. “Once you take ’em, call ’em what you want.”
“Are you gonna take ’em both?” Sam asked, offering his hand for the… Mama … nope couldn’t do it… for the German shepherd mix to sniff. Sam’s hand got a lick, too, and the dog’s tail swept the floor of the barn. She still hadn’t broken that sit.
“Here, Tink. Tinkerbell. Belle,” Sam coaxed, singsong fashion, and two grown men winced. “Here, Bones. Bony. Bo.”
Thankfully, the kid didn’t suggest Bozo. Names mattered. Names came with expectations . For example, her dull, sparse coat might one day be a shiny chestnut color. “Try Chess. Chessie.”
Chessie Casey, dear Lord, shoot him now.
“Chess,” Sam coaxed. “Chessie, come. Heel!”
The boy turned on his heel and set off swiftly toward the barn door and damned if that dog didn’t follow immediately to heel, keeping pace perfectly when Sam slowed or sped up or turned this way and that.
“Did you teach her that?” Cal asked Jim.
“Nope.” Jim smirked. “Might have to charge you twice what I was going to, seeing as she’s already a trained protection dog.”
“Uh-huh.” Cal knew the old man too well. “What were you planning on charging me in the first place?”
“A dollar. Can’t have her thinking she’s worthless.”
A man after his own heart. “Two dollars ninety-nine and keep the change. That’s my final offer.”
“Done, and I don’t think you’ll be disappointed. That’s a good dog—she’s just too smart and too dominant for my lot and she’s looking for that one person to love.” Sam and the dog were back and this time it was the pup who sat in silence, watching them intently from afar. “Of course, there’s not many who’d happily take on both the bitch and the pup. Bout time they got separated, anyway.”
You wily old coot , Cal thought.
Sam was right there listening and what was a man to say? Yes, I’ll take the bitch but someone else would have to take the pup? What kind of message was that ? “I’ll take both.”
Jim had the hide to belly laugh. “Like shooting fish in a barrel.”
“Yeah, yeah. How much, old man?”
“That’ll be five bucks for the pup. And a bottle of Kentucky whiskey.”
“What? No way that pup’s worth more than a… what was it? A trained protection dog!”
“Five bucks,” the old man said implacably. “For the pup.”
“I’ve got five bucks,” Sam said eagerly.
“Well, I would take your money,” Jim said, “but I’m already committed to this other sale. A man has to stick to his word.”
Cal was thinking more along the lines of what Beth would say to him when her son returned home, having purchased a puppy. “Five bucks, you say.”
“And a bottle of whiskey.” Old Jim nodded sagely. “You’re buying potential.”
*
“Oh, you bought a horse,” Cal’s mother said when she saw them. “A dog and a horse.” But she didn’t ask why, and for that he was grateful.
“Can they come inside? And can we raid the dog gear box?”
“Long as they’re clean and dry. Would you look at the size of those paws!” The puppy had lolloped inside, and his mother had taken a step back. “Those are wolf paws.”
Surely not. “You’re kidding, right?” Cal inspected the pup. “Jim thought Maremma or Great Pyrenees. And this is the mother and she’s definitely a German shepherd mix.”
“She’s not the one I’m looking at.”
“That muzzle’s not wolf,” he offered in the hope his mother might agree with him.
“The eyes are.”
“This is Chessie,” Sam said, slinging his arm around his newfound shadow. “And the wolf horse is called Bo.”
Cal beamed at the boy’s understated valley humor. He’d never been so proud.
Later, after everyone had arrived for an informal lunch, and Christmas plans had been locked in, his mother pulled him aside. “Take the pup to a wolf rescue center, Cal, and get it tested.”
“Mom, that pup hasn’t put a foot wrong since he’s been here. And they’re big feet.”
“It’s a playful, friendly puppy now . It won’t always be. There’s wildness there. I’m serious.”
His mother had never given that kind of warning before. “I’ll look into it.”
She moved forward and fussed over Sam and both dogs as Cal shepherded them all out the door. The pup wriggled ecstatically and leaned into her petting, and she softened, just a little, but when she stood up, she stood resolute. “Do it soon.”