Rough, Raw, and Ready

“Keely shouldn’t have told you.”



“I’m glad she did, Aunt C.”



No answer.



Chassie crossed the room, her sock feet silent on the wooden floor. She sat on Carolyn’s left side. Click click click as the metal needles whipped the yarn into shape.



Neither one spoke for the longest time, which was fine by Chassie. She honestly didn’t know what to say.



Aunt Carolyn babbled, “I’ve been putting off finishing this baby blanket for Carter and Macie’s newest addition. You know she’s due any day, right?”



“Right.”



“The baby is a boy. Always a boy in this family, so I have every color of blue yarn you could imagine. I wanted something different for each of my grandchildren. Thane’s baby blanket is navy blue and Kyler’s blanket is turquoise. It’s so sweet Ky still needs that blanket every night before he can sleep even when he claims to be a big boy. Gib’s blanket is robin’s egg blue. Channing won’t let him have it in his crib anymore because she’s afraid he’ll tie it around the slats and use it to climb out.”



Chassie smiled. That sounded like the little wild man.



“I say what goes around comes around because Colby was my climber. Cord always stayed put, patiently waiting for me to lift him out. Colt persuaded Cord and Colby to break him out of his playpen soon as he could talk. Such a charmer at an early age and that hasn’t changed. And Cam. Cam rattled the bars on his baby jail until I feared he’d rip them out. When Carter was born I thought Cam would accidentally hurt him because Cam was such a big kid. But Cam was gentle with both Carter and Keely. And patient.



Lord, his size scared a lot of folks. Cam is strong and smart and he can’t be…there’s no way. No way. They’re wrong. They’re wrong.”



The clicking stopped. So did Chassie’s heart.



“Oh God. I can’t do this…I can’t…he’s not…not Cam…not one of mine. Not mine.”



Chassie gently set the knitting aside and circled her arm around Carolyn’s shoulder as she sobbed. Chassie cried silently right along with her, her emotions ripped into shreds.



A cracking noise sounded, followed by a grunt as Carson crouched in front of Carolyn.



Her uncle’s face wasn’t the usual blank mask, but pinched and pale. Haggard. He paid no attention to Chassie; his sole focus was on his wife. Picking up Carolyn’s hands from her lap, he kissed her fingertips. “Sugar?”



Carolyn met his gaze. “What?”



“Are you—”



“Don’t you ask me if I’m all right or I swear to God I’ll scream.”



“O-o-okay,” Carson said evenly. “Maybe you oughta—”



“Don’t you dare suggest I go lay down either, Carson McKay, or so help me God I’ll—” A great gasping sob erupted.



“Hey, now, hush.” Carson tenderly kissed Carolyn’s palms and the tips of her fingers, then rubbed her knuckles over his razor-stubbled cheeks like her skin was the finest silk. His actions seemed to calm them both a little.



“Sorry,” she said. “What were you gonna say?”



“I thought you might wanna give your poor fingers a break for a bit.”



“I’m fine. I’ve gotta get this done.”



“I’m sure. But grandbaby number four ain’t gonna appreciate you bleedin’ all over his blanket any more than I would.”



Chassie should’ve excused herself. But this sweet, solicitous side of her brusque uncle staggered her. She’d never seen Carson McKay as an affectionate man, least of all with his wife. She hadn’t thought him capable, given what Chassie’s father said about Carson being the coldest, most calculating SOB he’d ever known.



But how much of her father’s perceptions were borne out of jealousy? Uncle Carson, while unfailingly polite to her, always made himself scarce when she’d visited his home.



In truth, he may’ve been all touchy-feely and she wouldn’t have seen it.



“My fingers aren’t bleeding, Carson.”



“Not yet. Caro, please give ’em a rest.”



“I need something to do with my hands. I’m goin’ crazy—”



“I know, sugar, me too.” Carson closed his eyes as Carolyn touched his face. The harshest, tightest lines around his mouth relaxed and he sighed as she rubbed his neck.



“You’re strung just as tight as me, McKay. Should I give AJ a call and see if she’d swing by and give you a massage?”



“Maybe.” His steely blue eyes opened and held a hint of challenge. “If you do something for me first.”



When Carolyn arched an eyebrow, Carson grinned. A flat-out bad boy grin, just like the one he’d passed onto his sons. “Not that.”



“That’d be a first,” Carolyn murmured. “What do you want me to do?”



“Eat something.”



“I’m not hungry.”



Carson kissed Carolyn’s knuckles. “I thought you might say that. But Chassie brought cookies. It’d be rude not to try ’em after she went to all that trouble to bake ’em fresh and bring ’em over here first thing this mornin’.”



Chassie bit back a smile. Carson McKay was a sneaky man. Using Aunt Carolyn’s innate politeness against her. It had the desired affect because Carolyn caved.



“Maybe just one or two.”



“That’s my girl.” Carson helped Carolyn to her feet. “And some milk.”



“Coffee.”



“Huh-uh. You’re too wired as it is. No coffee.”



“Fine, bossy man. Juice.”



“Fair enough.”



All at once Carolyn seemed to remember Chassie. “Keely’s up in her room.”



“Thanks.”



Carson curled his weathered hands over Carolyn’s shoulders, keeping their bodies close as he directed her toward the kitchen.



The McKay house was large enough to have two sets of stairs—a formal set in the front and a narrow set leading upstairs and into the cellar. Chassie took the front set and ambled down the long hallway, pausing to look at the pictures adorning the walls.



Everything from Carter’s stunning paintings, to family photos dating back to the turn of the century, to Kyler’s preschool handprints. She’d always loved Aunt Carolyn’s mixed-up, stylish yet personal, decorating style.



She passed several closed oak doors, knocking at one in the middle.



Keely flung open the door with spit in her eye. Her rigid posture relaxed when she realized it was Chassie. After a quick hug, she motioned Chassie into the room. “Thank God it’s you.”



“I hope that nasty look wasn’t meant for your mom or dad.”



“No. It was for Colt.” Keely frowned at her desk. “Sorry there’s no other chairs in here. You’re gonna hafta sit on the bed.”



“It’ll be like old times.” Chassie’s gaze swept the girlish room. Ruffled white eyelet canopy above the bed. Bright pink Priscilla curtains hung at both windows. A vanity with a lighted mirror panel was shoved along one wall and piled with clothes, shoes and makeup. An overflowing bookcase opposite it crammed with romance novels. Posters of bull riders, bullfighters, PRCA bronc riders were plastered on the lavender walls. Official printouts for the Dodge pro rodeo final standings for the years Colby competed were tacked here and there. Chassie resisted the urge to search for Trevor’s name, instead focusing on her cousin. “Really like old times. Wow. This room is exactly the same.”



Keely plopped in a wheeled office chair. “Not exactly.” She pointed to a bottle of Malibu rum on the dresser. “Back then Daddy would’ve confiscated that immediately.



But now that I’m of age…” She sighed. “Maybe you should confiscate it. Been drinking way more than I should in the last few days.”



Chassie hopped on the bed and let her legs dangle over the side. “Dare I ask if there’s any more news on Cam?”



“None. Every time a goddamn car comes up the driveway, we panic, afraid it’s an official army rep here to tell us…” Tears spilled down Keely’s cheeks. “I can’t say it.



And some really superstitious part of me thinks if I don’t say it, it won’t happen. Stupid, huh?”



“Not stupid. Hopeful.”



“Thanks.” Keely wiped her nose. “I’m sorry that I brought you into this, Chass. Last night I had a fight with Colt, then I got into the rum and called you. I just needed to vent to someone who wasn’t in this house.”



“I’m glad you called me. I’ll also admit I’m a little pissed off that you guys have been dealin’ with this for over a week without tellin’ anyone else in the family.”



“My thoughts exactly. I don’t get why we have to keep it a secret.”



Chassie plucked at a thread on the quilt. “Maybe Aunt C is superstitious like you are.



If she doesn’t tell people he’s missin’, it can’t be true.”



“My God. I never considered that.” Keely drifted off for a minute.



“So what are you and Colt fightin’ about?”



“He’s bored. He wants to go home, but he can’t because he’ll tell Buck what’s going on. Dad insists since Colt and I are the only unmarried kids we’re here as support for Mom.”



“How long are you here for?” Chassie pointed at the open laptop on the desk.



“Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”



“I am in school. My instructors are letting me keep up online for now, but I’m set to start clinicals in two weeks and that’s something I can’t miss.” Keely twisted a section of her dark hair around her finger—a rare nervous gesture. “So in between studying, I’m trying to talk to Mom, but all she does is knit and drink coffee. Dad barks orders at Cord and Colby over the phone and paces when he’s not obsessing over seeing my mother falling to pieces. Colt deals with all the chores around here and anyone who calls or stops by. He has the worst of it, but that doesn’t give him the right to nag at me.”