Mara dashed out of the casino and hailed a cab, caring about as much for Caleb lying unconscious on the bed upstairs as she did about her own disheveled appearance. "Home free," she mused smugly.
Home. It was little more than a word to Mara. Even worse, after a childhood spent enduring an indifferent, drunken excuse for a father, the word had become synonymous with hurt; no sweetness, no refuge for the heart, and most certainly no place to spend the holidays. Her one dream as a teenaged girl had been to get out, to escape from her old man and, at seventeen, she had. Consequently, when the cab made a turn onto Mayberry Drive from McCarran Boulevard, Mara was startled. Did I...? But...but why would I tell the cabbie to...? He's the last person on earth I want to...! Confused, Mara leaned back and absently watched the street numbers count down toward 405. Man, this whole thing with what's-his-name must have taken more of a toll on me than I thought.
As the car eased to a stop in front of an aging adobe, Mara collected her wits and got out. She stood for a moment staring at the battered screen door, and then marched up the uneven sidewalk to the front porch. Perfect. Still the neighborhood dump. Nothing ever changes. Inside, Luke Stevenson sat, half-dozing and half-drunk, in a worn out armchair. "Bad Luck Luke" they called him on the strip, but luck had nothing to do with it. He'd decided all on his own to crawl into a bottle long before Mara was even born, and now--sitting in the cluttered room surrounded by empty bottles and nearly $20,000 of Caleb Hollis' cash--it didn't look like things would go anywhere but further down--and fast. Bad bets or bad whiskey, one way or the other Luke Stevenson was on his last legs, and it showed plainly on his jaundiced face. Mara opened the creaking screen door and stepped inside.
Caleb came to with his cheek in a drool spot and a dull throbbing ache in the back of his head. As he raised his face, the throbbing became waves of excruciating pain and the room blurred. Careful not to make any sudden moves, he slid his feet to the floor, raised himself to a sitting position and lowered his aching head into his hands.
"Mara," he seethed. "That deceitful little...when I get my hands on her I'll wear her out!"
Tentatively he stood, realizing in a screaming instant that it probably wasn't the best idea, but determined to move anyway. Where would she go? Half the town already knows the story of our "marriage." It won't be easy for her to run around unnoticed.
He shuffled to the mini bar and poured himself a scotch, downing it in one gulp as he fumbled in the drawer for an aspirin or an ice pack, or both.
"Hell, I'd settle for a damned pistol if it'd stop this stampede in my head," he groaned sardonically.
Three shots of Chivas Regal and a handful of Excedrin later, he was feeling a little better. Pacing slowly around the suite, his anger grew in direct proportion to the diminishing pain. Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks. Luke!
"Luke! Luke! Wake up you old fool!" Mara shouted, jostling the old man's shoulder with a somewhat less than gentle touch.
Luke mumbled and twisted away, involuntarily swiping a skinny arm at this unwanted invasion of his rot gut-induced reverie. Finally, he opened his eyes and squinted blearily in his daughter's direction.
"Mara?" he asked in drunken disbelief.
"Yes, Mara. Your own worthless flesh and boozy blood! Your daughter, or should I say YOUR POKER POT??!!" she screamed.
Luke winced and shrunk back, clapping his hands to his ears.
"Not so loud, baby girl. Daddy's not feeling so good," he simpered.
"Daddy?" You've got a lot of nerve calling yourself that. What kind of "daddy" bets his daughter on a hand of cards? What kind of "daddy" cares more about a few dollars and a few cases of whiskey than he does what happens to his only living family? Huh? Suppose you tell me THAT...Daddy?" she sneered.
"But darlin'," he wheedled. "I was only thinking of you. Trying to do what was best. Trying to get you set up so you wouldn't have to worry when I'm gone."
"Oh, bullshit. You've been gone for as long as I can remember. This wasn't about me, and you know it. It was about you, like it always has been. You and your selfishness and your weakness and your boozing. I was nothing more than a stake for you, and no amount of lame lying is gonna change that now--or ever!"
Luke feigned an injured look. Mara sank onto the lumpy couch and cried. She hated this man, and she hated herself for even bothering to hate him. Some part of her had thought that by coming here and confronting him it might help, might clear the air or make her feel better or vindicated or something--but it didn't. As the sobs wracked her defeated and trembling frame, she felt more lost and alone than ever, and all she wanted to do was disappear into some quiet, blessed oblivion.
Caleb stood silently at the screen door, his rage dissipating into the hot afternoon breeze. He couldn't be angry with this woman, not after what he'd seen. Sure, he'd heard the tales about her past, her raucous upbringing, but hearing about it and seeing it with your own eyes were two different things. He knew a little something about demons, himself. He had his share; things that he kept deep down inside, things that he'd learned the hard way not to think about, things that sometimes woke him up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night.
"Mara," he said softly.
She jerked her head up, eyes wide with fear, and then scrambled in a panic to the corner of the couch.
"Mara, honey," he said quietly. "It's time to go."
"Thank the Lord!" Luke blurted drunkenly. "I'll tell you the truth, son. I don't know what to do with this girl, I swear!"
Caleb shot Luke a murderous glance and stepped into the room, walking unhurriedly to the couch. He extended a big paw toward Mara and waited. She looked at Luke and then into Caleb's eyes and the fear seemed to drain from her face, leaving only a pale mask of resignation. Slowly, she slipped her hand into his. He eased her to her feet, and then reached down and scooped her up into his arms. Glancing over his shoulder disdainfully at Luke, he smiled down at Mara as he carried her outside to his waiting 4 X 4.
Neither of them spoke as the truck pulled away from the curb. They rode in silence past the outskirts of Reno, and as they headed North, Caleb found himself gazing at his bride with an unfamiliar feeling in his heart. He needed her, and whether or not she would admit it, she needed him. In just a few short hours he'd come to think of her as something more than another female conquest, and he liked the feeling. He smiled as he realized that there would be some rough road ahead, but rough road was something he could handle, especially if she was along for the ride.
"Ever been to a ranch, Mara?"
"A ranch? You mean some dirty, dusty, manure reeking, wind battered, God forsaken hellhole in the middle of the damned desert? No, thank you very much, I haven't."
He laughed out loud. She was back. Say what you might about her sharp tongue and less than coquettish manner, she was one helluva woman, and he felt proud to have her at his side. She looked at him incredulously as he drove on, still laughing. Yep, she needs me. And she needs a lot more than that. 'Probably going to have to spank her regularly for awhile, and get me some body armor to boot, but she's beginning to like me a little, and that's a fact.
"Well, you're about to see one, Mara. A real one; one of the best in this state."
"You've got to be kidding. You're not taking me away to some dump of a homestead out in the middle of nowhere. Stop this truck right now!"
Caleb obliged, pulling the 4 X 4 to the dusty roadside and reaching across her to open the passenger door. She jumped out into the unforgiving heat of the day, and then turned back to glare at him. He chuckled and nodded.
"Yep. Kind of a long and uncomfortable walk back to Reno, but suit yourself."
She thought it over for a moment, and then slunk rather sheepishly back into the seat.
"Alright. Fine. If we're going to this ranch of yours, let's go. I'm about to burn up out here. But you'd better keep your grubby hands to yourself if you know what's good for you, you big baboon."
Caleb shook his head and smiled. It had come to him as she stood there in the desert sun what he had to do. He would tame her, alright. But he'd do it in a way she least expected. He would, as the old saying went, "kill her with kindness." Grinning his most infuriating grin, he pulled the truck back onto the pavement and roared off. In a little while Mara was sound asleep, and she stayed that way for the rest of the ride. Finally, just as the sun was disappearing in a glorious glow behind the mountains, Caleb turned the truck into a dirt driveway and they passed under a wrought iron arch emblazoned with the legend "Circle C." They were home.