Storm's Refuge Page 11

  “I was thinking of heading for Arizona or Cally and see what the circuit is like down there.” He managed to look sheepish and belligerent as the same time.

  “I don’t think so, Tim!” She used a favourite phrase of Grampa’s. “You can stick around here and help out for once.”

  “C’mon, Michelle, you’ve done it every other year, and I kinda promised Stacey I’d take her to Indio to watch some show jumping.” He wheedled.

  “Every other year I had Rob to help. It’s only me now, or did that slip your mind? You want to go off gallivanting to Palm Desert and leave me here pulling calves in the snow by myself?” Michelle blinked her eyes to fend off tears. It was maddening that she cried when she was really angry. “Since when do you like show jumping?”

  She saw her brother flick a glance at Cale and raise his eyebrows, maybe expecting his fellow male to throw him a life line.

  “Leave me out of this.” Cale held his hands up in surrender. “I’m not sticking my nose in the middle of this one.”

  “We could stay, George. I don’t really need to go to Indio. Sara will post video on her website, so I can see how her horse is going.” Stacey broke into the conversation.

  “That’s sweet, Stace, but I promised I'd take you.” George kissed her knuckles.

  “You promised her? Since when does a promise you made to a one night stand mean a tinker’s damn?” Michelle spluttered. What is wrong with the man? He’s acting like he’s going to live up to his words for once.

  “Michelle,” George thundered, using his I’m-the-big-brother voice.

  “Don’t Michelle me. You think I’ve been blind to the string of broken hearts you’ve left all over Alberta and who knows where else. You love ‘em and then move on; you always do.” She fired back.

  Stacey leaped to her feet, wrenching her hand free of George’s grip and ran out of the room. The hammer of her racing feet sounded above them before a door slammed.

  “For God’s sake, Michelle, what is wrong with you?” George glared at her and headed for the hallway.

  He only made it to the door before Stacey came charging down the hall and smacked into him. Hindered by the duffle bag she clutched in her hands, she pushed ineffectually at his body blocking the way. Her hair fell over her face, and she refused to look at George.

  “Move,” she demanded, her voice thick with tears.

  “You need to listen to me…stop it.” He took her shoulders and shook her slightly.

  “Let go of me and move.” Hysteria edged her voice, and Michelle could hear the sobs between the words.

  “No, not until you listen to me. Michelle’s just jealous because she thinks you have ideas about Cale. You need to let me explain.” George let go of one shoulder to raise her chin with his free hand.

  “You bastard.” Michelle looked for something to hurl at his head. How dare he say that, especially in front of Cale.

  “Shut up, Michelle. You’ve done enough damage for one day.” Her brother didn’t look at her. He turned Stacey with gentle hands and led her into the living room, closing the door behind him.

  Michelle let fly with the empty mug she held in her hand. The sound of shattering pottery brought Storm crawling from under the table crying. Michelle dropped to her knees and gathered the shaking dog into her lap. Tears of embarrassment welled in her eyes.

  “Real mature, Michelle.” George’s voice carried from the living room.

  “Oh, piss off.” She muttered and buried her face in the dog’s fur.

  Chapter Ten

  The scuffle of Cale’s stocking feet on the linoleum reminded her he was still sitting at the table. The chair scraped as he stood. Michelle couldn’t look at him, keeping her face in Storm’s long fur. He must think she was a real witch to act like this, even worse Gramma would be furious with her behaviour.

  “Maybe I should just go, or do you want me to stay?” Cale’s voice was uncertain.

  “Think you sticking around might prevent a murder?” Her voice was muffled by the dog in her arms.

  “Don’t know. I thought leaving might help me avoid a mug to the head.”

  Evil man. He was laughing at her. She raised her head and glared at him; the wary expression on his face brought a reluctant smile to her lips. His body appeared tense and ready to run for the hills if she picked up a piece of ammunition.

  “If you’re smiling, does that mean you’re not planning on using me for target practice?” His smile warmed his eyes, and a dimple appeared at the corner of his mouth.

  “You’re safe for now, I guess.” Michelle released Storm and got to her feet.

  “Do you want to hang around here, or run into the steakhouse in Longview for something to eat?” His gaze strayed to the closed door of the living room.

  “Longview sounds good to me, anywhere but here right now.” Michelle grabbed her coat from the back of the chair.

  “She really is just an old friend. Stacey isn’t important to me in any other way.” His eyes met hers earnestly. He stopped on the step below her, so Michelle didn’t have to look up at him.

  “Didn’t look that way the other night.” Her voice sounded obstinate even to her.

  “I told you before. You can either believe me or not. I’m not going to tell you again.” She heard him sigh before he turned and walked to his truck.

  Michelle let Storm into the cab and climbed in after her. In silence, they drove out the lane and down the snow covered road to town. The steak house was full, so they settled for the hotel further north on Morrison Road. Storm thumped in beside them and arranged herself under a table in the corner. Michelle stared at her in surprise. The dog seemed quite at home, as if she visited the hotel bar often. Shrugging, she ordered her meal and wandered over to the table the dog had chosen. Cale followed her when their food was ready and set hers on the table. Michelle lifted her hand in recognition to a waitress. The woman was the mother of one of the girls she went to school with.

  Stella stopped on her way by their table and stared at Storm. She peered under the table at the dog and held out her hand.

  “Cassie, is that you?” The waitress spoke to the black dog, who wriggled out from between Michelle’s legs and shoved her nose into the woman’s hand.

  “How do you know the dog?” Michelle laid her hand on Storm’s head.

  “She used to come in with Henry all the time. This was their table.” Stella shook her head.

  “Who’s Henry? Henry Laskin? I didn’t know he had a dog.”

  “Henry Ackerman from over Turner Valley way. He liked to come here ‘cause this is where he met his wife.” The woman’s eyes looked shiny. “How did you come by Cassie?”

  “I found her under my porch just before Christmas. Looked like someone beat on her, she was a mess.” Michelle frowned.

  “That son of Henry’s, arrogant son of a bitch,” she swore.

  “What’s the son got to do with it?” Cale broke in.

  “Henry passed on the middle of December, and I offered to take the dog. I got to know Henry pretty good over the years, and a neighbor let me know when he died. The son said he’d take care of Cassie, and I never heard any more about it.” She stroked the dog’s head.

  “He took care of her all right. Dumped her on the highway with a load of pups in her belly.” Michelle ground her teeth in anger.

  “Bastard, seemed like the type. Made a big deal about her being a papered purebred, near as I can tell she don’t look like no purebred to me.”

  “My guess is she’s purebred mutt.” Cale interjected.

  “You’re gonna keep her are you?” Stella eyed Michelle sternly.

  “Yup, we’ve been through a lot together. And if mister high and mighty son wants her back, there’s about five thousand dollars in vet bills he’ll have to take care of before he gets his hands on her.” Michelle fisted her hand on the table.

  Stella patted her hand. “He ain’t gonna hear about her from me.”

  “Thanks, Stella.”

/>   “No problem, sweetie. I’m just glad Cassie is okay. What did you call her?”

  “Storm.”

  “Storm it is then. Cassie must have run off and died somewhere in this weather. If that skunk comes looking for her, that’s what I’ll tell him.” Stella moved on to wait on a new customer.

  “You ready to go home?” Cale set his empty coffee mug on the scarred table.

  Stubbornness tied a knot in her gut. She couldn’t go back to the house and live with George and Stacey making cow’s eyes at each other. There was no place else though. Mary would tell her to grow up and face the music if she went there. Michelle wasn’t in the mood to face any music. Besides, who was George to think he could show up and run the show? He was quite content to leave her to it when he was working and not worry about how she managed.

  “I’m not going back there.”

  “Okay…where do you want to go?”

  “I don’t know,” she mumbled.

  “What about Doc’s? We have to pick up the puppies anyway.”

  “Mary won’t get in the middle of a fight between me and George. She’ll tell me to go home and work it out. I guess we do need to stop and get the puppies though.” Michelle reluctantly got up from the table.

  “Maybe you’ll think of something on the way.”

  Michelle waved to Stella and followed Cale out of the hotel, Storm thumping along beside her. The short drive to Mary’s was quiet; what was there to say? There was no way in hell she would stay at the ranch with the lovebirds. Her stomach rolled at the thought. It’s so unfair… I bust my butt, and he just walks in and dictates what happens like he’s king shit. Where does he get off?

  “You planning to murder someone?” Cale’s voice startled her.

  “What?” She blinked at him.

  “You planning on murdering someone? If looks could kill, whoever it is would be dead right now. It’s not me, is it?” The look on his face brought a smile to her lips.

  “You’re safe, Vet Boy. It’s my brother who needs to look out.”

  Cale brought the truck to halt in Doc’s drive, effectively ending the conversation. A fact, she was extremely grateful for. She sounded like a spoiled brat, but it didn’t change how she felt to acknowledge it. Storm hopped down the walk ahead of her, no doubt anxious to reunite with her brood. The dog was sprawled in the middle of the floor with puppies squirming over her by the time Michelle entered the kitchen. Mary got up and poured coffee for the new arrivals.

  “Can’t stay long, Michelle. I’m on call tonight, and I’ve gotta get home and switch trucks.” Cale drank his coffee standing by the counter.

  “You and George have another fight?” Mary asked point blank.

  “Why would you think that?” Michelle countered, knowing whose side Mary would be on.

  “He called here three times this afternoon looking for you…that usually means you two are feuding, and you’ve hightailed it without finishing it.” Mary smiled and patted her hand.

  “He’s a jackass,” she said succinctly.

  “You’ll figure it out when you get home.” Mary’s tone indicated the matter was settled.

  “I’m not going back there.” Michelle radiated rebellion.

  “Where are you gonna go, sweetness?” Doc said gently.

  “Anywhere but there. I’ll go to the Bluebird before I go home,” she said stubbornly.

  “I don’t think they allow dogs in the motel.” Mary frowned at her.

  “I’ll find somewhere. There are lots of places in Okotoks or Blackie.”

  “Chelly, quit actin’ like a child and go straighten this out with your brother.” The older woman’s voice left no room for argument.

  “We got to get moving anyway. I’ll get Cale to drop me off.”

  She pushed back from the table, gathered the puppies into the kennel, and with Storm in tow, left the house.

  “What has gotten into that girl?” Mary’s voice followed her down the walk.

  Michelle stowed the puppies in the back seat and helped Storm unto the blanket beside the kennel. She slammed the door with more force than was necessary and stared out the windshield. When Cale entered the cab, she couldn’t look at him. He must think she was an idiot. Why couldn’t anyone understand how she felt? Tears formed in her eyes, and her throat hurt. I will not cry in front of him. I won’t. In spite of her good intentions, frustration forced tears to overflow and course down her face. She brushed them away, anger rising in her chest. Where am I going to go? I’m not staying with George and the blonde bimbo. From the corner of her eye, she saw the dark-haired vet look over at her uncertainly. She held her breath and waited for the lecture Mary was sure to have told him to impart. To her relief, the man had the good sense to keep his own counsel and return his attention to the road.

  The truck slowed as they approached the ranch gate, Cale put in the clutch and rolled slowly toward the entrance.

  “What are we doing? Are you going in, or will you bolt the minute I leave?”

  Startled he read her intentions so accurately, she said the first thing on her mind. “I can’t. There’s no way I’m watching them hang all over each other.”

  “Why do you feel so strongly about it? I would have thought you’d be glad your brother was happy?”

  “I’m not sure. It’s just he’s gone most of the time, and every time he comes home, it’s like everything I’ve done while he’s gone is wrong. He walks in and takes over; everything has to be done his way. I’m tired of him ordering me around and then disappearing for twenty-eight days at a time and leaving me to cope with the weather and the harvest and the repairs…” She leaned her head against the window.

  “Okay then, not the ranch.” He was silent for a moment, “You can bunk in one of the spare rooms at my place if you want, unless there are too many memories there.”

  “Really, you wouldn’t mind? It’ll feel kind of weird, but I’d sure appreciate it.”

  He let the clutch out and continued down the road, leaving the ranch road behind. Michelle tried to control her wayward thoughts as they drove the familiar road winding along the headland and around the curve of the big coulee. It was so strange to see the old sign missing from the gate as they turned into the Chetwynd ranch. She corrected herself—Cale’s ranch.

  “Are you planning on changing the name of the place?”

  “Eventually, just haven’t got around to it yet. It’ll be the Chetwynd place until I’ve lived here fifty years anyway.” He laughed.

  “Yeah, I suppose that’s true isn’t it?” She grinned back.

  He parked the truck in the yard and looked at her with a strange expression on his face.

  “Honey, we’re home.” His joking words sounded oddly prophetic.

  Chapter Eleven

  The wind rattled the panes in the old window. The resulting drafts of cold air swirled around her when she opened the door. Michelle dropped her coat on the bed and surveyed the small room. A few steps brought her to the only window, and she spared a glance at the corrals below. Empty of life, the scene was lonely and sad with the wind whirling snow devils over the frozen earth. With a swift movement, she pulled the curtain to cut the force of the wind which found its way through the cracks. Her fingers stroked the material. Mrs. Chetwynd’s mother made the curtains more years ago than Michelle could remember. Why the hell couldn’t things just stay the same? Gramma Harner would be dead three years this June. Michelle could hear the woman’s voice as clear as if she stood in the room with her. Mark my words, Chelly, make sure Rob is what you really want. Don’t go hitching your horse to his wagon just ‘cause you’ve worshipped the boy since you could talk. A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Gramma Harner and her own gramma both warned her about Rob’s wild ways. Naively, she thought he would change once they were married, and he had the ranch to look after.

  “You were righter than you knew, ladies.” Michelle’s words painted strings of frost in the cold air.

  Briskly, she rub
bed her arms to warm them, and picking her coat up off the quilt covered bed, she shrugged it on. Old farm houses and central heat never seemed to be able to decide to be friends. The ancient furnace in the basement coughed and rumbled to life, but the air from the heat vent was only slightly warmer than the air in the room. Leaving the uninviting cold, Michelle poked her head into what used to be Cara’s room. Rob’s sister painted the room bright pink and purple the year she turned thirteen and somehow never got around to redecorating. Michelle shut the door and moved to the next one.

  The room was on the south side of the building and noticeably warmer than the first. The bed was made up, and her breath was no longer visible. It used to belong to the hired hand, so the furnishings weren’t fancy, just the bed, a dresser and the wash stand. It suited her just fine. The view to the south looked up the coulee with the snow covered prairie beyond where the valley turned west with the river.

  “There you are. I thought I’d lost you.” Cale stood in the doorway with an electric heater in his hand. “You’re gonna need this. The old furnace is on its last legs, and the heat doesn’t really get up to the second floor.”

  “So I noticed. Is it okay with you if I use this room?”

  “Sure, if you want. There’s the den downstairs where it’s warmer if you’re interested.”

  “I think I’ll try this one for now. I like the view, and it’s away from the wind.”

  “Suit yourself. I turned the old parlour into my bedroom until I can get the heat fixed. It’s right over the furnace, so the hot air doesn’t have far to go.” He set the heater on the floor and grinned before disappearing into the hall.

  She heard his boots on the stairs and left the window to collect the heater and plug it into the wall socket. It hummed to life, the centre glowing cherry red like a big sun. Holding her cold hands in the warmth, she took stock of the room. The dresser would do for the few clothes she had. Tomorrow would be time enough to go back home and collect her things. She opened the bottom drawer of the dresser and pulled out a thick quilt. Pausing for a moment, she thought about her Gramma who always kept the spare blankets in the bottom drawer of the dresser in the spare rooms. Apparently Mrs. Chetwynd belonged to the same school of thought.