Storm's Refuge Page 9

  Spitting snow from her mouth, Michelle scrambled to her feet, ignoring Cale’s grunt of discomfort as her knee dug into his ribs. Shielding her face from the biting snow, she searched the yard for Storm. Muttering a curse, she whirled toward the door, intending to grab her coat. Rough hands grabbed her, preventing another face wash in the snow bank. Cale set her down, glaring into her eyes for a second. Michelle could hear him muttering in the dark mud room. He emerged with two coats, handing hers over before shrugging into his own.

  “I suppose we have to go find the damn mutt.”

  “I don’t need your help. She’s my dog, and I’ll find her.” Michelle let her temper sweep through her; who did the man think he was anyway?

  “It’s a blizzard for heaven’s sake, woman! You can’t go chasing around on your own.”

  “You’re the one who let her out.”

  “Like I did it on purpose.”

  “Doesn’t matter, does it? She’s gone, and she’s gimpy, and she’s got puppies.”

  Michelle spat the words over her shoulder while she attempted to stomp down the steps. The heavy snow clung to her jeans, and she suppressed a giggle when she heard Cale slip on the stairs behind her. Serves him right. The thought warmed her even though she admitted it wasn’t really fair to blame him.

  Fifteen minutes of fighting through the snow and wind was all Michelle could manage. There was no sign of Storm, and no chance of finding her tracks on the windblown prairie snow. Hell, I can’t even see my tracks. The feel of a hand on her shoulder was startling. Brushing the snow and frozen ends of her hair away from her face, Michelle shook her head at Cale.

  “I can’t hear you!”

  Cale leaned closer. Michelle was very aware of the faint scent of his cologne and the hint of peppermint on his breath. “We need to go in. She’ll come back.”

  Cold air whipped her face. It felt like the blood in her veins turned to ice. Reluctantly, Michelle nodded her agreement, and together they trudged toward the porch light which shone like a beacon through the icy storm.

  Once back in the warm kitchen, Michelle paced from the door to the window and back. Where is the damn dog? Her jaw ached from clenching her teeth, and a headache pounded behind her eyes. Cale left off playing with the puppies by the stove to take his turn looking out the mudroom door. The sound of paws on the floor, and the tinkle of frozen snow in Storm’s long coat brought Michelle racing to the kitchen door.

  “What the hell have you got, dog?” Cale’s voice was the first indication something was wrong.

  Before she could ask for an explanation, the door pushed open, and Storm limped into the light. The dog was covered with ice and snow; the only black visible was her eyes. Storm dragged a huge snow encased thing in her mouth. The dog’s eyes glowing with pride, she stumped to her puppies and spit the bird out in front of them.

  “Where did she find a bird like that?” Cale nudged the carcass with his toe.

  “Oh, my God! It’s a peacock; damn it, dog.” Michelle’s hands flew to her mouth in dismay.

  “A peacock?”

  She nodded. “Old man Harvey on the other side of the coulee raises them for their feathers.”

  Michelle sank to the floor by the frozen bird and felt to see if the bird’s neck was broken, or if it was still alive. No such luck, the thing was deader than a doornail. Cale knelt beside her and repeated the exam.

  “Neck’s broken.”

  “Do you think it could have frozen to death first?”

  “Anything’s possible, I suppose.”

  “Harvey’s such a mean old coot. I hate to phone and tell him I have his dead bird on my kitchen floor.”

  “Maybe it got out somehow. I can’t see how the dog could have gotten all the way over the coulee in this weather.”

  “I know I should tell him, but he’ll want the dog shot. He hates dogs, threw a litter of puppies in the river a couple of years ago. It was only luck I was riding by at the same time. Poor little mutts.” Michelle rested her hand on Storm’s wet head, tears gathering behind her eyes.

  Storm turned her adoring gaze on Michelle. Look what I brought you, beloved human, food for my babies. The big brown eyes were wide with pride and innocence. She knew the dog had no concept of the consequences of her actions. Storm was simply providing for her babies as best she could. The inevitability of what must happen now twisted Michelle’s stomach into knots.

  Closing her eyes helped to marshal her thoughts while the scenarios ran through her mind. Old man Harvey would throw a fit when she told him. He’d arrive to collect the dead bird for its feathers with his gun in hand. Tears slipped down her cheeks while her fingers continued to stroke the black dog’s head.

  “Couldn’t you just offer to pay the guy for the bird?” Cale’s voice was gentle.

  Wordlessly Michelle shook her head. Old man Harvey wasn’t known for his good nature or cooperation; the man was mean as a cornered badger. If only Cale wasn’t here to see this, I could just make the damn thing disappear. The vet was here though, and that was something she couldn’t change.

  In a swift movement, Cale lifted the heavy bird and carried it out the door into the snow. Michelle scrambled to follow him, grabbing her jacket from the hook. The flying snow hurt her face. Lowering her head, she plunged off the porch into Cale’s tracks.

  “Get back in the house!” His words were almost lost in the wail of the wind.

  “What are you doing for God’s sake?” Michelle clutched his arm in the lee of the truck.

  “Go back in the house. You never saw this damn bird. Do you understand?”

  Cale heaved the poor dead peacock into the bed of his truck before stepping into the cab and starting the engine. He met her startled gaze with a wicked smile and shut the door. The truck growled its way backward through the snowdrift before heading off up the lane. Michelle watched the progress for a moment before the cold and snow drove her back inside.

  Collapsing on the floor beside Storm and her puppies, Michelle drew the dog’s head unto her lap, stroking the rich black fur. Where the hell is Cale going with that bird? No way he’s taking it back to old man Harvey. The thought he might do such a thing drove her to her feet. In minutes, any trace of the peacock’s presence was obliterated from the kitchen. The driving blizzard would take care of any tracks, and in any case, the stupid bird had no business being out in the storm anyway. She snagged a towel from the pile of laundry and began to dry the melting snow and ice from the dog’s coat.

  Guilt niggled uncomfortably at her. Gramma would say she should phone Mr. Harvey immediately and offer compensation. Her hand reached for the phone; she stopped unable to bear the thought of what would happen to Storm. Grampa would say it was the damn fool’s own fault if he couldn’t look after his stock better than that. The sight of Storm nuzzling her puppies while protecting her bad leg settled the matter for Michelle. Turning from the phone, she started a new pot of coffee and sat at the table watching for the lights of Cale’s truck.

  An hour later, she saw lights come on in the house across the coulee. Seconds later, the phone rang sharply in the quiet kitchen.

  “It’s all taken care of. How’s that dog with the broken leg doing?” Cale’s voice was nonchalant although Michelle caught his unspoken message.

  “She’s fine, sleeping with her puppies. What have you been up to this evening?”

  “Just out on a call, saw your lights on, and wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas. I’ll drop by in the morning to take another look at the leg.”

  “See you in the morning.”

  Michelle replaced the phone in the holder, smiling in amusement. What in heaven’s name did that man do with the damn bird? His cryptic message reminded her of playing cops and robbers as a child, making up nicknames and codes only her and George could figure out. Shrugging her shoulders, she turned out the lights and ran up the cold staircase to her room. A glance out her window showed the snow still swirling down. Maybe George will stay in town tonight. I can�
��t believe Cale said Stacey and George were all over each other. Surely my brother has more sense than that? Men! You never know what they’ll do.

  Shivering, she slid into bed, pulling the flannel sheets up to her nose. Snuggling into the blankets, Michelle drifted into slumber, an amused smile on her face.

  What did Cale do with the damn peacock?

  Chapter Seven

  Dawn light peeked faintly in the window when Michelle woke up; the snow was drifting against the window panes but didn’t seem to be falling anymore. Half asleep, she shuffled down the hall to the bathroom. Pushing through the half open door, she bumped smack into something.

  “What the hell?”

  “Oh, my God! What are you doing in my house?” Michelle’s voice was sharp with annoyance and disbelief.

  “George brought me.” Stacey took a step back into the bathroom.

  “Get out. Get out of my house now.” The fist squeezing her heart made it hard to get the words out.

  “My house too, sis.” George’s deep voice startled her.

  “You brought her here?” Realization of the situation dawned on Michelle. “You slept with her? In this house?”

  George laughed at her annoyance, reached around, and took Stacey by the hand. Pulling the pretty blonde to his side, he wrapped a long arm around her and steered her down the hall to his room.

  “Got things to take care of, Chelly. We’ll talk about it later.”

  Fury raged and seethed inside her. Slamming the bathroom door, Michelle regarded herself in the foggy mirror.

  “Things to take care of my ass.”

  Finished in the bathroom, she strode down the hall and hammered on her brother’s door. “Your turn to feed the stock, jackass.” Stomping back to her room, she slammed that door, too, just for good measure. He can do the chores today, I’m going back to bed for an hour or so. The bed was still warm; gratefully her body melted back into the cocoon of blankets. Before she could remember to be furious with George, her eyes closed.

  The glare of bright sun reflecting off new snow woke her three hours later.

  * * * *

  Studiously refusing to look down the hall toward her brother’s room, Michelle stomped down the stairs as loudly as she could. A wicked amusement brought a grin to her face. George was a notoriously light sleeper. Sure enough, by the time the coffee was ready, George staggered into the kitchen walking very carefully, his eyes almost closed against the sunlight streaming in the window.

  “Could you have made any more noise?” His voice came out raspy and low, but the set of his shoulders told her he was annoyed.

  “Could you have found anyone else on the planet but her to warm your sheets?” Michelle let her own anger color her words.

  “How the hell am I supposed to know you hate someone I don’t even know you know?” George poured strong hot coffee into a mug and gingerly sat down at the table. “Does that even make sense?”

  “You could have asked, you idiot. Doc would have told you, or Mary.” She ground the words out between clenched teeth.

  “Talk quieter for God’s sake woman. It was Mary who introduced me to Stacey.” George shook his head in bewilderment before realizing his mistake.

  “Figures, the matchmaking queen meddling again. Although why that blonde wench I’ll never know. Mary has some master plan in motion, but I’m not playing.” Michelle wiped the already clean table with unnecessary vigour.

  “Don’t know, don’t care. Going back upstairs.” He muttered carrying his coffee out of the room.

  “When is she leaving?” Michelle called after him.

  “Yeah, we have to talk about that later.” George hesitated in the hall just outside the entry.

  “Talk about what? There’s nothing to talk about except how soon you can have her city ass out of here.”

  “I kinda offered she could stay here until she gets settled.” The big man ducked his head and waited for the assault.

  “You did what? She leaves today. This is my home, and I’m not having that woman live here.” Anger made her voice rise shrilly.

  “It’s my home, too. My money pays the bills.” George closed his eyes wearily and leaned his head against the door frame.

  “And who the hell do you think keeps the place running, busting my ass feeding stock and splitting wood while you’re gone for weeks at a time? Not to mention foaling out your mare. Have you even gone and looked at the colt yet?” This is not happening; he cannot be this stupid. A sense of disbelief washed through her; she pinched her arm hoping to wake up from the nightmare. No such luck.

  “Don’t matter. Place is both of ours, and I asked her stay, so she stays as long as she wants. I looked at the mare last night, by the way.” George turned and disappeared into the shadows in the hall. A moment later, she heard his feet on the stairs, and then the door to his room creaked.

  “Stays as long as she wants, does she?”

  The dish cloth landed in the laundry basket, its impetus aided by the violence with which it left her hand. Michelle stood rooted to the floor, so angry it was hard to think straight. This is my home. There’s no way I can share it with her, and what about when George goes back to work? Am I supposed to keep house for the blonde wench? Pigs will fly first.

  “George said there was coffee made, can I have some?”

  Stacey’s voice dragged Michelle’s attention back to the present and away from murderous thoughts of what she would like to do to George, and Mary, too, for that matter.

  “What?” She blinked stupidly at the blonde in the doorway. The woman managed to look beautiful even with an old bathrobe wrapped around her and no makeup.

  “Coffee. George said there was coffee made.” Stacey tucked a stray curl behind her ear and offered Michelle a small smile.

  “On the counter.” She turned and busied herself with Storm’s puppies. If I have to look at her much longer I’ll be ripping her hair out.

  “Are those the puppies Cale told me about, the ones from the crippled mother?” Michelle started at the blonde’s voice so close behind her.

  “Yup.” She refused to look up as the woman moved to stand beside her. Storm growled low in her throat, and her hackles lifted slightly.

  “It’s okay, silly dog. I’m not dangerous.” Stacey moved to kneel beside Michelle.

  Storm growled again and lunged to her feet, lips curled back over bared teeth.

  “She doesn’t trust people she doesn’t know, and she has good reason.” Michelle blocked the dog from reaching Stacey. “Get your coffee and leave.”

  Stacey straightened and moved toward the counter on the far side of the kitchen. Small tinges of guilt fingered through Michelle. Gramma’s voice sounded in her head. Anyone is welcome in this house, girl. Lessen you have a really good reason why they shouldn’t be. She didn’t figure Gramma would see jealousy as a good reason for refusing the hospitality of the house. From the corner of her eye, she saw Stacey fill a mug with coffee and disappear down the hall. Breath escaped her lungs with a hiss as Michelle remembered to breathe. Coffee, that’s what I need. Coffee and a big stick to beat the pair of them with. She had no sooner poured herself a mug and settled at the table to figure things out when the crunch of tires drew her gaze to the window. Cale waved and made his way to the door. A rush of cold air swept across the floor as he entered.

  “What’s up, Michelle? You look like you want to murder someone, and it can’t be me. I only just got here.” Cale grinned at her expression.

  “Nothing’s up, except Stacey is upstairs in my brother’s bed.”

  “You’re kidding me, right?” Cale ran his hand over his face.

  “Not. She came home with him last night, and apparently, he told her she can live here for as long as she wants.” She blinked sudden tears from her eyes. Betraying rat brother, thinking with his other brain.

  “Huh, well it’s good for Stacey, but I take it he didn’t talk to you about it first.”

  “You think?” Frustration drove he
r to her feet. She stalked across the kitchen and filled a mug for Cale.

  “Thanks.” He took the mug from her hands. “Don’t you want to know what I did with Storm’s prize from last night?” Cale grinned wickedly at her from under the thick lock of hair which fell across his forehead.

  “I am truly afraid to ask.” A tiny grin niggled at the corners of her lips.

  Cale sat in the chair beside her before speaking. “I took the thing over to Harvey’s and left it in the ditch by the gate. There’s nothing to tie Storm to it, no teeth marks or dog hair. It looks like it got smacked by a car, broken neck and a broken leg.”

  “Did anybody see you?” Hope came to life in her chest.

  “There wasn’t anyone out on the roads last night. The house is way down the lane, and the lights were out, so I think we’re in the clear.” The man grinned at her like a little kid who got away with swiping cookies from the jar.

  “Why?” She didn’t really care she supposed; the important thing was Storm’s safety.

  “Why what? Why would I engage in clandestine behaviour? I’m not a saint, Michelle. The dog wasn’t gone long enough to get over there and back. She must have found it near here.” Cale frowned at her. “Don’t go all crazy on me and confess to the Harvey’s, or I’ll have a hard time explaining what I did.”

  “Thanks. For helping Storm and me, too.” Michelle laid her hand over Cale’s and squeezed his fingers.

  “Our secret; don’t even tell Doc, for God’s sake.” Cale’s voice was laced with concern.

  “Just you and me, promise.” She removed her fingers from his hand.

  “I like the sound of that, you and me.” He smiled at her and slung an arm over her shoulders. “Truce?”

  “Truce.” She agreed. “Although it’s pretty sneaky of you to use the old ‘save the damsel in distress’ situation to make me cave.”