Santa In Montana (2 page)

“No buts, Jake.” Chase held up a silencing hand. “Let me explain it this way, if Jesus had been born here on the Triple C, cowboys would have come to worship Him in their cowboy boots. But Jesus was born in Bethlehem. So shepherds knelt before Him, and they wore sandals.”

“Sandals are for girls, Greypa,” Jake protested, using the name he had coined for him when he first began to talk and couldn't wrap his tongue around a mouthful like great-grandpa.

“Girls and shepherd boys. Right?” The single-word question challenged the boy to agree.

Jake heaved a big, disgruntled sigh. “Right.”

From the doorway, Sloan marveled, “I don't know how you do it, Chase. I've gone around and around with him over this issue of the sandals. You say a couple things to him and it's a done deal.”

“Dad has always had a way with young children.” Cat smiled widely in a mix of pride and approval.

Chase sliced her a quick look. “It's the older ones that give me trouble.”

Laredo chuckled and hooked a leg over one corner of the desk. “Tell me, Jake, have you started making a list of what you want Santa to bring you for Christmas?”

Brightening visibly at the change of topic, Jake turned to him. “Yeah, I gotta lot of things I'm putting on it.”

“Like what?”

“I need chaps and a belt and a rope—”

“You already have a rope,” Laredo reminded him.

The response was a quick wrinkling of the nose. “That rope's for babies. I need a gooder one.”

“My mistake.” Laredo struggled to hold back a smile.

“Do you think Santa would bring me a saddle? I sure could use one,” Jake added with an adult like nod of emphasis.

“And you could use jeans, a winter coat, socks, and underwear,” Sloan inserted. “He's outgrown just about everything he has.”

“You have been shooting up like a little weed.” Laredo gave the top of Jake's brown hair a playful ruffle.

Jake started to protest the mussing then suddenly remembered, blurting, “And an ATV of my own.”

Laredo laughed outright. “Now there's a modern cowboy for you. Why walk when you can ride an ATV.”

“Santa would bring me one, wouldn't he?” Jake sought confirmation from Chase.

Out of the corner of his eye, Chase caught the negative movement of Sloan's head. “Something tells me Santa will wait on a present like that until you're older.”

“How old?” Jake wanted to know.

Chase shrugged. “You'll have to ask Santa that one.”

Jake thought about that for a second and nodded, then gave Chase a bright look. “What do you want Santa to bring you for Christmas, Greypa?”

“Yes, tell us,” Cat urged.

“I'm already getting what I want—all my grandchildren are coming home for Christmas.”

Jake frowned. “That's not a present.”

“Sometimes the best presents don't come all wrapped up in a pretty package,” Chase told him.

Clearly not buying that, Jake switched his attention to Laredo. “What are you putting on your list?”

“I'm like your great-grandpa here,” Laredo replied. “I've already got just about everything a man could want.”

Chase ran a brief glance over the lanky cowboy, wondering if anyone else caught the small qualifying phrase Laredo had used. But with Jake in the room there was no time to mull over it as the young boy ran over to Jessy.

“You want a real present, don't you, Grandma?”

Jessy made a show of giving his question serious thought. “I would like a new bathrobe. Mine's getting a little old.” But she could tell her grandson didn't think much of that as a gift. “And maybe a new set of spurs.”

His face lit up. “I want some spurs, too.”

“If your list gets any longer, Jake, Santa will think you're getting greedy.” Sloan walked over to him and slipped off the crooked headdress. “Better let me have this before you get it dirty.”

“And I'd better go start lunch.” Cat half turned from the room, then paused to glance at Chase. “Did you want to lie down for a little bit before lunch?”

“No.” His reply was quick and firm.

“You should you know,” she countered.

The brief exchange swung Jake's attention to Cat.

“What do you want for Christmas, Aunt Cat?”

“I can tell you what she
needs
,” Chase declared before Cat had a chance to answer. “A husband.”

“Dad.” His name came out in a shocked breath.

“Well, it's the truth,” he insisted. “If you had yourself a husband, you wouldn't be hovering around nagging me all the time.”

“I don't nag.” She bristled a little at the suggestion.

“Not much,” Chase murmured.

All wide-eyed with wonder, Jake looked at her. “Can Santa bring you a husband?”

Cat threw her father an irritated see-what-you've-started look and forced a smile. “No, dear. Santa doesn't bring those kind of gifts.”

“But if he can bring somebody a puppy, why can't he bring you a husband?” he reasoned.

“A husband is something a woman likes to pick out for herself,” she explained with a great show of patience. “And, heaven knows, the pickings are very slim around here. Assuming I was looking, of course,” she added, shooting Chase another searing look.

“Of course.” Chase nodded, his expression softening. There was a wealth of understanding in his gaze.

Cat knew that he was fully aware of those moments of loneliness that crept up on a person after they had lost the one they love—not to mention all those unnamed longings that visited a person at nightfall.

“If you want, Aunt Cat, I can help you look for one,” Jake volunteered.

One look at his earnest expression and Cat had no difficulty maintaining a smile. “I appreciate the offer, but I prefer to do the looking myself.”

He cocked his head at a curious angle. “Where are you going to find one?”

His question had Cat firing an exasperated glance at Chase. Sloan saw it and came to her rescue, grasping her young son by the shoulders, his folded-up headdress tucked under her arm.

“Enough questions, Jake.” She turned him toward the living room. “Let's go put your costume away.”

“And then what?” He wanted to know even as she steered him in the direction of the wide oak staircase that led to the home's expansive second floor. “Can we go down to the barn and feed the horses?”

“We'll see.” Sloan's murmured response drifted back to the den.

Laredo gave a wry shake of his head. “That boy can't slow down. If he's awake, he has to be moving.”

“Trey was just like him at that age,” Jessy recalled, then roused herself. “I need to get moving myself. It's time I checked on things at the ranch office.”

When she stood, Laredo pushed away from the desk. “I'll tag along with you. I need to see if those parts for the generator were delivered. Catch you later.” He flipped a casual wave in Chase's direction and followed Jessy out of the room.

As the pair swung toward the front door, Cat hesitated, then re-entered the den and set about collecting the coffee cups and placing them on the tray. Chase watched while she picked up the now heavier tray and balanced it on her forearm.

At the moment when she appeared ready to turn away from the desk, he said, “You mean you aren't going to bring up that business again about me lying down before lunch?”

“And be accused of nagging again? Not likely,” she shot back.

“You do nag sometimes, Cat,” Chase countered.

“If I do, it's only for your own good,” she insisted, holding herself a little stiffly.

Pride. His daughter had always had an abundance of that. But it was his awareness of her lightning quick temper that prompted Chase to overlook that proud and combative tilt of her chin. “I'm well aware of that, Cat,” he assured. “But you need to recognize that while I may be old, I'm not an invalid.”

“I know that.” But there was a touch of sharpness in her voice.

“You have too much time on your hands and very little else to think about except me.”

“Oh, please.” Exasperation riddled her words. “You aren't going to start talking about a husband again, are you?”

“Why is that such a sore subject?” He leaned back in his chair in a show of relaxation to mask his close study of her reaction. “Are you absolutely against ever marrying again?”

“Of course not.” Her response was emphatic and quick. “Why would I be when I've seen two perfect examples. First there was you and Hattie…Regardless of how much you loved my mother, I know your second marriage to Hattie was very fulfilling, but in a different kind of way. And anyone can see how happy Jessy is with Laredo.” She paused, irritation flickering through her expression. “Although sometimes I get so mad at Laredo, I want to haul off and hit him!”

“Why?” Chase frowned in surprise.

“Because he obviously let's his pride stand in the way of going to that next step and actually marrying her. And why? Just because Jessy runs this ranch and he's only an ordinary cowboy. It's ridiculous.”

“I don't think pride has anything to do with it, Cat.”

“Then why doesn't he marry her?” she challenged.

“I suspect he has other reasons. Ones that don't bother Jessy, so they shouldn't bother us either.”

Cat was quick to read between the lines, all her senses going on high alert. “Are you saying there's some truth to the rumors that Laredo is a wanted man?”

“I've never asked. And I never will.” Unspoken was the order that she shouldn't either.

“Logan always liked him a lot,” she recalled in an absent, musing fashion.

“Maybe you should think about taking a trip after the first of the year,” Chase suggested in a deliberate change of subject.

A small, breathy laugh of surprise slipped from her. “Where did that come from? First you accuse me of turning into a nag, and now you're trying to get rid of me?”

Chase smiled at her half playful taunt. “That thought hadn't crossed my mind, but it is another good reason. Actually I was remembering that comment you made about the scarcity of eligible men around here. If you spend all your time here on the Triple C, you aren't likely to meet anybody. A change of scenery would be good for you anyway.”

“And where would I go?” she countered, unimpressed by his suggestion.

“Go down to Texas. Spend a month or two with Quint and Dallas. It's been quite a while since you spent some time with your son and his family.”

“Trade one ranch for another? I don't think so.”

“Then fly over to England and stay with Laura. If it's a social life you want, she'll see that you get one. You know how full her calendar is all the time. I'm surprised she managed to work us in to come for Christmas this year.”

Cat responded with a quick shake of her head. “The weather would be nasty at this time of year over there.”

“Then go on a cruise somewhere warm,” Chase argued, growing a little irritated by her quick dismissals.

“Alone? I don't think so.” This time the shake of her head was firm and decisive. “Maybe I will fly back to Texas with Quint after Christmas. But if I do, it will be to spend some time with my new grandson, Josh.” Cat smiled just thinking about the nearly two-year-old toddler and his head of red hair. “Face it, Dad—not everyone gets a second chance at love.”

“And you damned sure won't if you sit around here waiting for it to come to you,” he informed her.

This time she didn't rise to his baiting tone. “Enough, Dad. Why don't you come out to the kitchen and give me a hand with lunch? As you so succinctly put it—you're old, not an invalid.”

“Don't get smart with me, girl,” he warned but with a half smile. “This time you take care of lunch by yourself. I've got some thinking to do.”

Catching the serious note in his voice, Cat eyed him curiously. “About what?”

“Guess you can blame Jake and all his talk about Christmas and presents.” His gaze shifted to a front window as sunlight flared off the windshield of a pickup reversing away from the house. Jessy sat in the cab's passenger seat. “For one reason or another, it's been a good many years since all of us have been together for the holidays. It'd be good if I could come up with special gifts for each of you to mark the occasion.”

“It would be,” Cat agreed readily and turned to leave, adding over her shoulder, “Just give me your list once you have it done and I'll get them for you.”

His response was a laugh like snort. “Yeah, you'd like to know what your present's going to be. I know you. This year I'll do my own shopping, thank you.”

Cat started to protest, then shook her head in amusement. “Whatever you say, but you're going to find out shopping isn't as easy as you seem to think it is.” She continued out of the den bound for the kitchen.

Chase could have told her that the difficulty usually depended on the object a person wanted to buy. But he wasn't about to arouse her curiosity any further, and wisely kept his silence while he pondered the possibilities. One was obvious; the rest weren't.

By noonday, the chinook wind had diminished in strength to a stiff breeze. Most of the ranch yard's snow cover had melted; only the occasional shrunken drift lingered in the sheltered areas.

Crossing the ranch yard, Trey Calder angled toward the heavy-timbered bar. Christened Chase Benteen at birth he was the third Calder to bear that name. The distinction had early on earned him the nickname of Trey, and he'd answered to Trey ever since. The outdoor life of a rancher had left a bronze cast to the hard angles and planes of his face, features that were a hallmark of male Calders. He stood three inches over six foot in his stocking feet. The riding heels of his cowboy boots added another couple inches to that.

As he neared the barn, the side Dutch door swung open. Out hopped his young son who instantly clamped a hand on top of his cowboy hat to keep the wind from blowing it off. Trey allowed a small smile to play with the corners of his mouth at Jake's action then flicked a brief, identifying glance at Sloan when she appeared in the doorway behind their son.

By then Jake had spotted him. “Hi, Dad.” He broke into a run, but the muddy ground sucked at his boots, giving a clumsy gait. “Wha'cha doing?”

“Looking for you.”

“Guess you don't have to look anymore 'cause I'm here, huh?” Jake reasoned.

“That's right.” Trey slipped an arm around Sloan when she joined them. “What have you two been up to?”

“I been working, Dad,” Jake declared very matter-of-factly.

Fighting back a smile, Trey worked to match his young son's tone. “Get a lot done, did you?”

“Yup.”

“Really.” But the sideways glance he gave Sloan was skeptical.

“It's true,” she assured him, with mock seriousness. “He helped feed the horses and gave Jobe a hand cleaning out the stalls, then held a horse for Tank while he trimmed its hooves.”

“Tank said I was a real good helper.” Jake fairly beamed with pride at the remembered praise.

“With all the work you've been doing, I'll bet you're hungry,” Trey guessed.

“Real hungry.” Jake confirmed with an emphatic nod. “Sure glad it's lunchtime. Mom and me was just headed to the house to eat. Mom said Aunt Cat would prolly have the food on the table by now.”

“Let's hope so.” By common consent, they all struck out for the Homestead, but at a pace that Jake's shorter legs could match.

“Hey, Mom.” He turned, walking sideways. “Do you s'pose Greypa has found a husband for Aunt Cat yet?”

“A husband?” Trey threw a puzzled frown at Sloan.

“Long story,” she murmured in answer, then said to Jake, “I doubt it.”

“Can I go ask him?” Jake asked with eagerness.

“May I,” Sloan corrected automatically.

“But I want to ask him, Mom,” Jake insisted, a determined set to his chin.

“No—I meant that you should have said ‘May I' not ‘Can I' go ask him.” She found it hard not to let a small smile show.

“Well, can I?”

Sloan gave up the attempt to correct his grammar and waved a hand toward the house. “Go.”

With permission granted, Jake took off at a run for the Homestead. She immediately called after him, “Don't you dare go in the house with those muddy boots on, Jake Calder! Take them off outside.”

“Yes, Mom,” he hollered back.

“So what's this long story about Gramps getting Cat a husband?” Trey asked now that Jake was out of earshot.

While she told him about the morning's incident, she kept an eye on their son just to make sure he remembered to remove his boots before he went inside.

But Jake clumped across the veranda's wooden floor straight to the bootjack near the front door, pried a foot out of first one muddy boot then the other, and launched himself at the door, throwing his weight against its heavy bulk to open it. Inside, he paused long enough to push it shut then struck out for the den. In his stocking feet, he had difficulty getting traction on the hallway's hardwood surface and reduced his headlong pace to a scampering trot.

When he reached the den's open doorway, he slid to make the turn into the room. “Hey, Greypa, did you find Aunt Cat a—husband?” He broke off the rest of his question and frowned in puzzlement when he saw his grandfather crouched behind the desk, only his head and shoulders visible. Jake moved to the side of the desk for a closer look. “Hey, Greypa, wha'cha doin?”

“Looking for something.” Chase never glanced up from his search of the middle drawer's contents.

“Can I help? I'm a good looker, Greypa.”

“No, I'll find it myself,” he half growled the reply, shoved the middle drawer closed, pushed his chair back and lowered himself out of it onto one knee as he pulled open the bottom drawer. “The damned thing's gotta be here somewhere.”

A protest formed, but he checked it when he heard the sound of the front door opening, accompanied by his parents' familiar voices. He pushed away from the desk and ran back to the entry, arriving just as Cat joined him.

“That's good timing,” Cat declared. “I was just on my way to let Dad know lunch is on the table. Jake, would you run and tell him?”

“Okay, but—” he hesitated, “but I think Greypa needs some help first.”

“Why? Where is he?' Cat asked, the first glimmer of concern showing in her expression.

“On the floor behind the desk.”

“On the floor? Oh, my God, he's fallen.” Before she ever finished the sentence, Cat was running for the den, Trey and Sloan were only steps behind her. Not understanding what all the urgency was about, Jake brought up the rear.

Cat hurried behind the desk. “I'll help you up, Dad.” Bending, she caught hold of his arm.

“Let go of me.” He jerked it away and threw her a glare when she reached for him again. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I'm trying to help you,” she snapped, then accused, “You had a dizzy spell, didn't you?”

“Like hell I did,” Chase fired back, matching her explosion of temper.

“Oh, really.” Cat jammed her hands on her hips, striking a challenging pose. “Then why are you on the floor?”

“Because I wanted to be. How the hell else am I supposed to look for anything in the bottom drawer.” He made a half savage gesture at its contents.

Belatedly Cat noticed Jake, standing at the front of the desk, all eyes and ears. “Watch your language,” she hissed at her father and jerked her head in Jake's direction.

“I wouldn't have any damned reason to be swearing if people would just put things back where they belong,” Chase muttered and began pawing through the drawer.

“Just what are you trying to find?” Cat demanded, totally exasperated with him.

“My address book. The one that belongs in the top drawer.” Straightening, he punched a finger at the proper location. “But it doesn't happen to be there.”

“That's my fault, Gramps,” Trey spoke up. “After I transferred all the names and numbers into the computer, I stuck the book over here in the cupboard.”

As Trey moved to retrieve it, Chase demanded, “Why the hell did you do that?”

“What difference does it make why he did it?” Cat argued and swung away, stepping to the computer's keyboard behind the desk. “It was done. Now, whose number do you want? I can call it up faster than you can find it in that stupid book.”

“If I wanted you to look up a number for me, I would have asked, now, wouldn't I?” Chase caught hold of the desk edge and used it to lever himself back into his chair.

“You're turning into such a grouchy old bear, Dad. I was simply trying to help you, and I get growled at for it.”

“Maybe I shouldn't have done that,” he conceded grudgingly. “But I got irritated. At my age, I don't have a lot of time to waste looking for stuff.”

“Here you go, Gramps.” With the address book retrieved from the cupboard, Trey placed it on the desk in front of him.

“Lunch is on the table. And if the soup's cold, it's your fault because you just had to have your address book.” Plainly still angry with him, Cat pivoted sharply and stalked out of the den.

A faint sigh of regret slipped from him as Chase watched her go. He flicked a glance at Trey. “Something tells me I hurt her feelings.”

“I think maybe you did.” Trey smiled in commiseration, one of those man-to-man exchanges over the touchiness of women.

Before Sloan could speak up in defense of her sex, Jake chimed in, offering Chase some justification for his action. “But you only got mad 'cause Aunt Cat was fussing over you again. She needs a husband, huh, Greypa?”

“One would sure take the focus off me,” he agreed absently and reached around for his cane. “We'd all better get in there for lunch or she'll never give me any peace.”

“Are you gonna get her a husband?” Jake wondered, moving to Chase's side after he rose to his feet.

“Tell you what—let's both keep our eyes peeled for one,” Chase suggested.

“Okay.” Jake stood a little taller, proud that he had been asked to participate in the search.

“A word of warning, though”—Chase bent his head in Jake's direction, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial fashion—“don't say anything to Aunt Cat about it.”

“How come?”

“Well, if she thought we had anything to do with finding her someone, she's liable to dig in her heels and refuse to have anything to do with him,” Chase explained. “Women can be contrary that way. From now on we need to keep this husband thing between you and me. Deal?” Chase held out an open palm.

Jake readily gave it a slap of agreement. “Deal.”

But to Sloan's ears, Chase's comments contained an undertone of chauvinism. “Tell me he isn't serious,” she murmured to Trey.

“Partly,” he admitted, amused by the whole scene. “But mostly he knows how to handle little boys. When I was his age, there was nothing more exciting than having a secret pact.”

“I suppose,” Sloan murmured, only half convinced.

“If you can think of a better way to stop Jake from talking about a husband for Cat—” He left it as an unfinished challenge.

“You made your point,” she conceded.

In the dining room, each took their customary places at the table; Chase sat at the head of the table with Trey on his right and Sloan next to him while Cat occupied the chair at the foot of the table. The two chairs on Chase's left were empty but only momentarily as Jessy and Laredo made their tardy appearance in the room.

Chase offered the blessing after they were seated. Upon its conclusion, he raised his head and cast a sideways glance at the tawny-haired woman on his left. “Glad to see I wasn't the last to arrive. Cat informed me that if the soup was cold, it was going to be my fault.” He removed the lid from the small, individual soup crock on his plate and inhaled the steam before sending a twinkling glance to Cat at the opposite end of the table. “The soup is not only hot, but it smells delicious.”

“Heaping compliments on me will not get you on my good side.” Her response had a definite cool edge to it.

Amusement was in the half chuckling breath he released. “You're getting more like your mother every day. Never could sweet talk my way around her either.”

“I should hope not.” Cat dipped a spoon into her soup.

Choosing not to bait her further, Chase directed his attention to the late arrivals. “So what kept you two? No problems, I hope.”

“None. I was on the phone with Quint going over a few things at the Cee Bar.” Jessy paused a beat. “That drought in Texas will drastically reduce the number of cattle he hoped to winter over. The graze just isn't enough and the pencil can't make the high cost of hay work.”

“Quint knows that if he takes care of the land, the land will take care of him. It just might take a year or two,” Chase stated, unconcerned by the news.

“He learned that from you,” Jessy said in agreement then glanced at Cat. “By the way, he wanted me to tell you ‘hi' for him, and to remind you that it isn't too late for you to fly down and spend Thanksgiving with them.”

“I've thought about it,” Cat admitted. “But it would be foolish to go there for just one day.”

“Who said it had to be for one day?” Chase challenged.

“I'm sure you would like me to stay there longer so I wouldn't be here
nagging
you, wouldn't you?” The sweetness in her voice was all saccharine.

Chase raised one eyebrow, but chose not to reply. Before the silence could become awkward, Sloan filled the void. “Is there some reason you can't stay with Quint for a few days?”

“Not really. It's just that I know how busy he is right now. Quint has had very little free time since you bought the Slash R ranch from the Rutledge estate last year. As you well know, that more than tripled the size of your Texas holdings,” Cat reminded her. “Quint has enough on his plate right now. And even though the Slash R adjoins the Cee Bar, access to it is difficult.”

“I guess you can thank Tara for that—or blame her for it, depending on your viewpoint,” Trey inserted, referring to his father's first wife. “Buying the Slash R was a good business move, but I doubt we would have bought it if Tara hadn't left the bulk of her estate to Laura and me.”

“Even in death that woman managed to somehow involve herself in Calder affairs,” Chase observed with a wry shake of his head.

“She did have a knack for that,” Cat agreed, then idly recalled, “I can't say that I was surprised when I learned she had named you and Laura as the major beneficiaries. Almost from the day you were born, she looked at you two as the children she and Ty might have had if she hadn't walked out on him.”

A harrumphing sound came from Chase's end of the table. “That marriage was on the rocks well before that,” he declared.

During all this discussion about Tara, Jessy had taken no part in the conversation. Her silence on the subject was one Laredo was quick to note. He skimmed her profile with a sideways glance, trying to get a read on her. But Jessy had long ago schooled her features not to reveal her inner feelings, and now she excelled at it, a trait that any poker player would envy.