Hawk's Way: Callen & Zach Page 9

  “You listen to me, Sam Longstreet! You are dumb if you think I’m buying that hogwash for one single minute. You’re plenty smart. Your problem is you’re stubborn as a mule.”

  “Oh, Callen.” He drew her into his arms, unable to keep his hands off her another second, and hugged her tight. “Saying I’m smart doesn’t make it so.”

  She freed her hands and cupped his face, forcing him to look at her. “There’s nothing wrong with you that can’t be fixed, Sam. The truth is, you have a reading disability.”

  “Callen—”

  “Shut up and listen to me!” she said. “You have dyslexia, Sam.” He started to let her go, so she slipped her hands around his neck and hung on tight. “I checked with a specialist. I gave her that list you made for me. You aren’t dumb, Sam, you just see numbers and letters all jumbled up on the page. Einstein had dyslexia, Sam. It has nothing to do with intelligence.”

  His face flushed a ruddy color. “Callen…” He was afraid to believe what she was saying. Afraid to hope.

  “You’re a darling idiot, but you’re not dumb,” Callen repeated, looking earnestly into Sam’s green eyes. “Mrs. Moran—she’s the specialist—says she can teach you how to overcome your reading problem. I told her you’d want to try. Will you, Sam?”

  “Callen…” His voice was hoarse and his nose stung. He felt like crying. “It’s too late—”

  “It is not too late! Mrs. Moran says all it takes is time and effort.”

  “I don’t have the time,” Sam said flatly.

  “Make the time.”

  “I’m too old—”

  Callen put her hand against his lips to shut him up. “You can learn to read, Sam. You can learn to add and subtract. It isn’t going to be easy. And it might even be embarrassing at your age. But if you’re willing to make the effort, you can resolve a problem that’s obviously been bothering you for a lot of years. I’ll do whatever I can to help, but really, this is something you’re going to have to do yourself.”

  Sam could hardly force the words over the thick lump of feeling in his throat. “What if I fail?”

  Callen’s arms tightened around him, and her lips pressed against his in comfort, in reassurance. “You won’t fail, Sam. I firmly believe you can do anything you set your heart and mind to do.”

  Sam had to turn his head away so she wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes. His voice was gruff with feeling when he spoke. “All right, Callen. If you want me to, I will.”

  She began pressing light, loving kisses all over his face.

  “If we’re done talking, I think it’s time for bed,” Sam said. “We can clean up this mess in the morning.” He lifted Callen in his arms and headed for the bedroom.

  He made love to her almost desperately. He wasn’t sure what was driving him. Fear. And elation. What if he could learn to read, after all?

  He had listened to Callen’s offer of help from Mrs. Moran as though it were no big deal. But deep down, in some secret hidden place where he had stuffed all the shame he had felt as a boy growing up, unable to do simple things like read or add a column of figures, a hard knot began to loosen.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ONCE SAM STARTED WORKING WITH Mrs. Moran, his progress was astonishing. Even Callen was amazed at how quickly he mastered his reading disability. Not that it was easy. And it was embarrassing at times. Callen saw his frustration on occasion, when the words on a page simply made no sense to him. But with an objective in sight, Sam devoted himself wholeheartedly to learning.

  Having tackled one challenge, Sam was ready for another. His hope of making the Double L into one of the finest cutting horse ranches in Texas was about to begin.

  The first cutting horses arrived two weeks after the housewarming party. Sam and Callen worked together training a sleek quarter horse mare for a rich client in El Paso who wanted to give it to his daughter as a birthday present.

  When they began to work with the mare, Callen saw a facet of Sam she hadn’t known existed. He had an understanding of animals, a rapport with them, that was transcendent. She had great skill maneuvering a cutting horse; Sam became one with the animal.

  “Why haven’t you been training cutting horses all along?” Callen demanded when Sam stepped down from the saddle after working the mare. “You’re absolutely brilliant!”

  One corner of Sam’s mouth cocked up in a self-deprecating smile. “You think so?”

  “Absolutely! I’ve never seen anybody ride like that, and I’ve seen a lot of competitions in my day.”

  Sam shrugged. “I’ve always had an affinity to horses.” He paused and added, “Animals don’t care whether you know how to read.”

  “Oh, Sam.” Callen stepped into his arms and hugged him tight.

  “It doesn’t hurt so much anymore,” Sam admitted quietly. “I mean, now that I know what was wrong. I suppose it’s going to take a while getting used to the idea of picking up a newspaper just like other folks and paging through it. And I don’t imagine I’ll ever take up reading for pleasure.” He grinned charmingly. “But I won’t ever feel like I’m less smart than another man, ever again. I have you to thank for that, Callen.”

  “Someone else would have pointed out the problem if I hadn’t come along.”

  “No one else ever did.”

  How long, Sam wondered, would he have remained blind to the truth if Callen hadn’t come into his life? In a matter of months she had turned his life upside down. If he held on to his goal of revenge, he might eventually ruin hers.

  “Sam, I met a young woman when I was in the hardware store having some wood cut for shelves. She seemed really nice. Her name is Natalie Folsom. Her husband, Ted, is the new agricultural extension agent. I’d like to invite them to dinner.”

  “Are you asking me for permission, or telling me what you’ve done?” Sam asked.

  Callen grinned. “You know me too well. Actually, I invited them for Saturday night. I’m willing to call and cancel if you don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  Sam sighed. He would probably never be a gregarious person, but it was foolish to let his past keep him from enjoying the present or the future. And Ted and Natalie Folsom weren’t from around here. They knew nothing about him. “I think it might be fun to have dinner with another couple.”

  The Sam Longstreet who greeted the Folsoms at the door was the man Callen had fallen in love with. Only he was clean-shaven, had his chestnut hair trimmed above his collar, and wore polished boots and a pressed Western shirt and jeans. Callen hadn’t let Sam’s appearance keep her from falling in love with him, but she had to admit she felt proud of the man standing beside her.

  Sam felt like a different man. It wasn’t just his spiffed-up clothing and appearance. The difference came from the inside. He felt more self-confident, more sure of himself. Frankly, there wasn’t anything different about him except that he knew now he was dyslexic. He had a learning disability, not an inability to learn. And he was making up fast for lost time.

  Natalie Folsom was a curly haired redhead, with hazel eyes that crinkled when she smiled, and a smile that took up most of her face. She was petite and looked about seventeen, even though she admitted to twenty-four. Her husband, Ted, was only a few inches taller, but he had a muscular build. He wore glasses and had a receding hairline, but his face was open and friendly. He admitted to being a wrestler back in college ten years before, which made him a year younger than Sam.

  They had nothing in common, Sam thought as the evening wore on, and yet he liked Ted. He was a good listener, and he made interesting comments when he spoke. Natalie was funny, and Sam loved seeing Callen laugh at her jokes.

  Then Sam mentioned he had a motorcycle.

  Ted’s eyes lit up. “You have a motorcycle? What kind?”

  Sam grinned. “Harley-Davidson, what else?”

  “A Hog? Really? Me, too,” Ted said. “Can I see it?”

  “It’s in the barn, covered with a tarp. I haven’t even looked at it for years.”


  “Then don’t you think it’s about time you did?” Ted asked.

  The four of them traipsed out to the barn, and Sam pulled a dusty canvas tarp off his Harley-Davidson touring motorcycle.

  Ted whistled. “What a beauty! You’ve had a lot of custom work done. I’ll bet all this chrome sure shines up nice.”

  Sam reached out and slid a hand along the leather seat. “I’d forgotten how much I liked this machine.” He had spent hours working on it, tuning it, shining it. He had been lost in a world of his own.

  “Sam, I didn’t even know you owned a motorcycle,” Callen said. “When can I get a ride?”

  “You want to ride it?” Sam asked in surprise.

  “I’d love to ride it,” Callen said with a sparkle in her eyes.

  “How much work would it take to get it ready?” Ted asked.

  Sam shrugged. “It shouldn’t take much. I put it away clean.”

  “Then how about if we all take a ride next Saturday, let the wind blow in our hair and the bugs catch in our teeth.”

  Sam grinned at the picture Ted had conjured. “Sure, why not?”

  “We can take along a picnic,” Natalie said.

  “And I know just the spot where we can go,” Callen offered. “If this very late Indian summer cooperates. Who’d have thought it would still be warm this late in November?”

  That night, as they lay in bed together after making sweet, sweet love, Callen laid her head on Sam’s chest and slipped an arm across his waist and snuggled close. “Did you like Natalie and Ted?”

  “Yeah. They’re nice.” Sam was feeling good. He couldn’t remember a time when he had been this contented. He wondered what it was going to be like, having a friend like Ted. It had been easy talking to the other man, easy to share stories about their Harley-Davidsons. And he owed it all to Callen. She was the one who had met Natalie and invited the other couple to supper.

  “You don’t mind getting together with them again?” Callen asked.

  “Hell, no. I’m looking forward to it. I can’t believe we’re going to a picnic on motorcycles,” Sam said, grinning in the dark.

  “Me, neither,” Callen said with a giggle. “It almost makes me feel like a kid again.”

  “I’ll bet you were hell on wheels,” Sam said.

  “Wait’ll you see me on Saturday,” she promised.

  “I can’t wait,” Sam said as he turned and kissed her.

  He wanted her again. Incredible as it seemed, he was hard and ready. They were both already naked, so it was easy enough to lever himself over her, spread her legs with his knees and thrust into her.

  “Sam.” She moaned his name as she arched beneath him. “Oh, Sam.”

  He kissed her with joy, with thanksgiving, with the love he felt but could not speak aloud. He wasn’t supposed to care. She was merely a means to his vengeful ends. But he showed her with his mouth and hands what he truly felt in his heart.

  Sam spent every spare moment of the next week working on his Harley in the barn. Callen always knew where she could find him. Once they made love facing each other on the leather seat. Once, when she wore a skirt, he stripped off her underwear, then unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants and took her standing up against the wall of the barn. Once he took her to the loft and laid her down on a blanket in the hay. They made love often, with joy in their hearts. Life seemed perfect.

  Then Callen’s mother called to invite them to Hawk’s Way for dinner.

  “Next week is the beginning of the Christmas season, and it dawned on your father and me that we haven’t seen much of you lately.” The truth was, Callen and her father hadn’t exchanged a word in nearly six months. “We’d both love to see you. Can you come?”

  “I’ll have to talk it over with Sam. But I’m sure we’ll be able to come,” Callen said.

  “That’s wonderful! We’ll look forward to it. Call us when you know for sure.”

  Callen felt her stomach do a little twist when she hung up the phone. She had been so very happy before her mother reminded her that Sam and her father didn’t get along. Well, she had tackled every other problem in her marriage with determination and conquered them all. What was one more little glitch? How difficult could it be to turn her husband and her father into friends?

  “NO,” SAM SAID. “I’M NOT GOING to set foot in your father’s house. Not now, not ever.”

  “Why not?” Callen demanded, her fists perched on her hips. “This has gone on long enough. I want to know what you have against my father.”

  Sam’s lips pressed flat. He had known this moment was coming, that it would arrive sooner or later. He just hadn’t expected it so soon. He met her brown eyes evenly and said, “Your father is responsible for E.J.’s death.”

  She got so deathly pale he thought for a moment she was going to faint. He reached out for her, but she flinched away from him.

  “That’s impossible. Your father committed suicide.”

  “Do you know why my father took his life?”

  Callen frowned. “Not exactly.”

  “E.J. invested his life savings and every bit of capital we had for running the ranch in several get-rich-quick schemes. They turned out to be swindles. He lost everything. We were going to lose the Double L. He couldn’t live with knowing he’d lost the only thing he had to pass on to me. So he killed himself.”

  “I still don’t see where my father fits into that picture.”

  “Your father advised E.J. to make those investments.”

  Callen shook her head no, slowly at first and then more vehemently.

  “Shake your head all you like. E.J. never made a financial move in his life that didn’t have Garth Whitelaw’s stamp of approval.”

  “My father wouldn’t have advised E.J. into anything that wasn’t legitimate. Not on purpose.”

  “Oh, he did it, all right. And I even know why.”

  “All right. Why?”

  “He wanted Double L land to replace what he gave away to Zach on his twenty-first birthday.”

  “That’s ridiculous!”

  “Is it? Think about it. How many times have you heard your father wish he had back the land he gave to Zach?”

  Callen sucked in a breath. She had heard her father say exactly that over the years. He had given Zach thousands of acres of Hawk’s Way land, in fact, about the same amount of acreage that comprised the Double L. And of course he missed the land, because it meant he couldn’t run as many cattle, didn’t have as much land to grow feed, didn’t have the same lines drawn on the vast map of Hawk’s Way that hung over the mantel in the parlor.

  Her eyes widened in fright and horror. She didn’t want to believe Sam’s accusation. Refused to believe it. And was horrified to realize how much Sam must hate her father if he believed what he was saying.

  “How could you marry me, thinking that about my father?” she asked in a quavery voice.

  “I didn’t intend to share you with him,” Sam said. “I thought we’d never have to see him again.”

  “But he’s my father!” Callen protested. “I love him. I could never stop seeing him!”

  “Not even for me?”

  Callen paced the room like a restless animal in a cage. “I love you, Sam. But I can’t stop loving my father because I love you.”

  “And if you had to choose between us?”

  Callen turned horrified eyes on Sam. “You wouldn’t ask that of me. Surely you wouldn’t!”

  Here it was. The moment of truth. If he had done his work well, Callen would choose him over her father. Garth Whitelaw would realize exactly what price he had paid for coveting Double L land. He had lost his chance to have the land. Now he would lose his daughter, as well.

  “I am asking, Callen. I’m asking you not to go to dinner at Hawk’s Way. I’m asking you not to see your father again.”

  Callen stood still, but her whole body trembled. “I’m going, Sam. What you’re asking of me is unreasonable. I won’t be forced to choose between my husba
nd and my father. I love you both.”

  “You can’t have us both,” Sam said flatly.

  “What do you mean?” Callen asked, wide-eyed with distress.

  “If you go to dinner at Hawk’s Way, don’t come back here. You won’t be welcome.”

  Callen laughed, a harsh, unnatural sound. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing! And it’s so funny. My father threatened nearly the same thing—that I would lose my job at Hawk’s Way—when I said I was going to marry you. Sam—” She reached out a hand to him, but he stepped back beyond her reach.

  “I meant what I said, Callen. The choice is yours.”

  Callen slept on her own side of the bed that night, hugging her arms to her body, unable to believe the impossible choice she had been given. She loved Sam more now than she had ever imagined possible. But she would die a little inside if she never saw her father again. She supposed she could concede to Sam now, and hope that he would change his mind later. But what if he didn’t?

  The next morning Sam noticed the air was almost as frigid as Callen’s behavior toward him. “Good morning,” he said as he sat down in the kitchen with a cup of coffee. One sip of the stuff had him screwing up his mouth at the bitter taste.

  “I suppose if it gets any colder we’ll have to call off the picnic on Saturday,” he said.

  “I’m not in the mood for a picnic anymore.” Callen slammed his breakfast down in front of him.

  The yolks on the eggs were broken and cooked hard, and the bacon was burned. Sam’s lip curled. The woman sure knew how to make a subtle point.

  She plopped down in the chair across from him and settled her fisted hands on the table in front of her. “Sam, we have to talk about this. You’ve got to change your mind.”

  “No.” The eggs stuck in his throat. He washed them down with a sip of bitter coffee.

  “Have you talked to my father? Did he give you any explanation of what might have happened?”

  “I don’t need to talk to your father. I know what I know.”