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“Dyson’s behind this,” his father announced grimly. “And I’d lay odds that Bulfert’s sold out to him.”
It was the suspicion of double-dealing that had infuriated his father more than the dilution of the mining bill, Ty realized. The clash with Dyson had never been personal. Each had applied pressure to stop the other, but on a business level. Losing to Dyson wasn’t so bad, but the possible defection of the senator was not easy for his father to take. It was that old code surfacing that said, when you took a man’s pay, you took his side. If a man rode for the brand, he fought for it, too.
The phone rang, and it was impatiently grabbed by his father. Now that he had learned the latest development, there was no more reason for Ty to stay in the room. He left, heading for the stairs.
“What are you doing up here?” Ty was slightly surprised to see Tara when he entered the suite of rooms on the second floor. Lately she had spent little time in them, complaining that they were too confining.
“Where else would I be?” she retorted irritably and rose from the damask-covered lounge chair.
Ty chose to ignore the remark. “I picked up that package for you.”
“Put it anywhere,” Tara said with disinterest. “It’s just those boots I ordered.”
“Maybe you should try them on,” he suggested.
“Not now.” She wandered to the window. “I wish your father would build a swimming pool or tennis courts. He certainly can afford it. At least then there would be something to do around here.”
“This is a working ranch, Tara—not a resort,” Ty responded with heavy patience. “If you want to go swimming, Cat is probably at the river. Why don’t you join her?”
“I don’t like to swim in the river.” There had been a time when she enjoyed it, but that had been early in their marriage. Since the horse herd had been established and they had ceased traveling so much in search of that foundation stock, Tara had gradually become bored with the monotony of the ranch routine. She swung around to face him. “Let’s do something this afternoon, Ty,” she urged, a desperate edge to the smile she gave him.
“I was just on my way out to check on some possible sites for the new feedlot operation. Ride along with me,” he invited with a slow smile and dumped the package on the sofa to cross the room to her. “You used to come with me whenever I went out riding. I don’t think you’ve ridden your horse in over a month.”
She turned to the window and lifted the curtain to look out. There was tension in her slim, motionless form. “Once you leave these buildings, there’s nothing out there but land. No matter how much you ride, you go nowhere and you get nowhere.” Her mood was somber, something rare for Tara. “Have you looked at that land, Ty? I mean really looked at it and felt it?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” He was puzzled.
“I have,” she went on, responding to her own question. “It makes me feel small—like I’m nothing. Well, I’m something,” she said with aggression.
“Of course you are.” Ty was faintly amused by her dramatics, even though he realized she was absolutely serious. “I only suggested that you come riding with me because I thought you’d enjoy the outing. But if you’d rather not go, that’s all right.”
“Ty.” The curtain was dropped as she pivoted to face him. She came to him, sliding her hands up the front of his shirt to rest on his chest. “Stay here this afternoon. You can look at those sites any old time. Today, you can stay with me instead.”
“Tara, I can’t.” There was a weariness in his voice. This was old ground. Given a chance, she’d find some excuse to keep him by her side every hour. “I have work to do. I can’t stay here and entertain you.”
“What am I supposed to do?” she challenged.
“Mother doesn’t have any trouble keeping busy.”
“Your mother has a house to run and friends to see.” She pushed away from him, hugging her arms in agitation. “All I have are these two rooms and a husband who is gone all the time. I don’t know why we can’t build our own house so I can have friends visit—and parties—and dinners.”
“Tara, we’ve been through this before.” His patience was wearing thin.
“I know. First you want to build this fancy feedlot of yours. Then, maybe, you might build your wife a house of her own,” There was anger behind her smiling look.
“Look, you’re the one who insisted on having a new house,” Ty reminded her tersely. “You weren’t satisfied to move into one of the empty houses here at the headquarters.”
“Ty, really. How would it look for a Calder to be living in some simple house like every other common ranch hand?” Tara challenged, impatient with a suggestion she found ludicrous. “That’s not good enough for you.”
“You mean that’s not good enough for you.”
“No, it isn’t. I am a somebody, and I’m not going to live like a nobody!” She was rigid before him, her head thrown back in defiance. He saw her like that for a mo
ment, needing the accoutrements of position and the recognition of social prominence. Then she crumpled and went into his arms, holding him tightly, “Ty, I didn’t mean for us to quarrel over this again. I can stand living in your father’s house, but I’m tired of seeing you stand in his shadow. I know how intelligent and capable you are, but you aren’t being given a chance to show anyone.”
“Tkra, that’s not true.” He held her. “The horse-breeding program, the proposed feedlot operation—they were my ideas. Dad has let me take charge of them. They are my responsibility.”
“I suppose they are.” She reluctantly gave in, a smile forced onto her lips. “Darling”—she stroked his jaw—“the governor is having a private dinner tonight. Daddy is flying to Helena later this afternoon to attend. Let’s go with him.”
