Santa In Montana (9 page)

Sloan hesitated to reply but she moved toward him. “I'm not sure,” she said at first, then, “I guess I'm worried about Chase.”

“Why?” Trey looked surprised.

“This afternoon Jake accidentally knocked some things off Chase's desk. His checkbook fell open—it's that old-fashioned kind, with four checks to a page, stubs on the left. I'm sure you've seen it.”

“I have. So what about it?”

“The last stub was for a check he wrote to Wade Rogers. The checkbook was opened to it. I couldn't help seeing it,” she added half defensively.

“So?”

“It was for ten thousand dollars, Trey. That's a great deal of money.”

“What are you getting at?” Trey asked slowly, cocking his head to one side.

“Why would Chase write a check to Wade for such a large amount?” Sloan challenged. “He barely knows him.”

“I have no idea.” Trey shrugged. “Maybe it was a donation of some sort.”

Sloan's mouth took on a grim, worried line. “Don't you think you should ask him about it?”

Trey drew his head back in surprise. “Why?”

Sloan took a few seconds to marshal her argument before she responded. “Look, Trey, we don't know anything about Wade Rogers. Chase is getting old, and we have to be realistic about what that means.”

Trey watched her. “I'm listening.”

“Elderly people get tricked out of their money all the time. Con men specialize in frauds that target senior citizens.”

“That's true,” Trey admitted, and smiled his unconcern, “but Chase is way too wise to be taken in by such schemes.”

“He probably has been in the past, but—”

Trey held up a silencing hand to stop her. “Look, it's his money. What he does with it is his business. I am not about to ask him to account for it.”

Sloan's eyes darkened, their look matching her troubled frown. But she didn't shrug off the arm Trey slid around her shoulders. He drew her close, kissing her lightly on the forehead.

“Are you trying to distract me?” she asked softly.

“No. I respect your concern for Chase. But that check stub you saw doesn't worry me.”

She looked up at him, not convinced. “I wish I felt the same way.”

“Sooner or later, he'll probably tell us what it was for,” Trey assured her. “Or not. It's up to him.”

Sloan sighed and relaxed a little, leaning her head against her husband's chest, trying to absorb some of his confidence.

“Come on,” he murmured, “let's go to bed.”

The winter afternoon was numbingly cold, even though the sun was shining. The crusty snow crunched under the hooves of the horses Jessy and Laredo were riding, revealing isolated patches of winter-brown grass where it had melted a few days before. Deceptively dull in color at this time of year, the native bunch grass was rich in nutrients that put hard weight on cattle, making it one of the ranch's best assets.

The riders were taking it slow as they surveyed the endless landscape that surrounded them. There was no sound but the occasional creak of saddle leather, or now and then a snort from one of the horses that made warm, rolling vapor rise in the air.

“Everything seems to be in good shape. Better than I expected, actually.”

“You look happy, Jessy.” Laredo ran an assessing glance over her profile, noting how relaxed and at ease she appeared without the stress lines that had been on her face when they set out. “You needed a break from the office.”

Jessy admitted to that with a nod. “That's the one thing I don't like about running the Triple C,” she said with a sigh. “I have to spend so much time inside four walls. I miss being out here on the land.”

“You're not the only one,” Laredo said.

She looked at him quizzically.

“I think Chase does too. He stays in his den most of the time. I remember when he rode out every day, rain or shine—or snow.”

Jessy's expression grew sad. “Me too. It's a shame that his arthritis makes it impossible for him to sit in a saddle anymore. Seeing this land from inside a pickup cab just isn't the same as riding across it on a horse.”

Laredo reined his mount to a stop, rested his gloved hands on the saddle horn and looked around. Jessy followed suit.

“There is one thing he's happy about, though,” Jessy added as her horse sidled closer to his. “Cat and Wade Rogers hit it off.”

“What makes you think that?” A trace of surprise was in his questioning frown.

“You mean you haven't heard all the clattering of the range telegraph?” she mocked lightly. “I guess they spent some time together the last time he was here.”

“So. Is he sending roses? Or did he serenade her with an old guitar?”

“No serenades,” she said. “He's a city slicker. They don't sing under windows in Washington, D.C., as far as I know. And he hasn't sent roses yet. But I understand they have a dinner date the next time he's here.”

“Maybe it's time you and I went out to dinner,” Laredo suggested after a thoughtful pause. “You haven't been off this ranch in a long while. Just the two of us, un-chaperoned.”

“It does sound good,” Jessy conceded.

“Then what do you say we run into Blue Moon for dinner Friday night?”

“That's a date.” Her eyes sparkled. “What time will you pick me up?”

“Seven o'clock,” Laredo added. “And I'll be wearing my Sunday hat.”

“Guess that means I should wear mine.” Jessy reined her horse away and touched a spur to its flank. Laredo was quick to follow, lifting his horse into an easy lope.

 

In the dining room, Chase paused to survey the wide array of dishes and platters mounded with food that were spread on the long table.

“There's enough here for an army,” Chase remarked. “Why so much?”

“I'm trying out some new recipes tonight. Not all of them might be to everybody's taste.” Cat set down another steaming casserole.

“Looks damn good. And smells better. I might just help myself to extra servings,” he joked. “How about you, Laredo?”

The lanky cowboy had crossed behind Chase's chair, but the old man didn't miss his entrance.

“I might give it a try. My momma used to say I had a hollow leg.”

Jake played with the fork at his place setting. “Is your leg still hollow?” He stared at Laredo with new interest.

“That's just a figure of speech, Jake,” Chase told him. “And don't ask me to explain what it means right now.” He scanned the table. “Are we all here?”

Trey was the last to pull out a chair and take a seat. All bowed their heads while Chase offered a brief grace.

“Let's eat,” he added after a heartfelt but quiet Amen.

Platters were passed and the food was dished onto plates. The eating and talking began. Seconds were offered, but when a platter of marinated roast beef came around to Laredo's seat for the third time he leaned back in his chair.

“Thanks, but I'm full. That was a good meal, Cat. Better than any restaurant.”

“So why do you want to take me to one?” Jessy taunted lightly.

“Are you two going out somewhere?” Trey wondered.

“That's right,” Jessy replied. “Laredo asked me out to dinner on Friday night, so don't set a place for us.”

Trey looked over at Sloan. “Maybe we should plan a night out.”

“Miles City?” she asked.

“Wherever you want to go.”

Jake fiddled with a slice of beef on his plate. His mother leaned over to cut it into smaller pieces for him. “It's delicious,” she told him. “Good Triple C beef, raised on the ranch.”

He forked up a bite and nodded in agreement. After swallowing it, he wiped his mouth on his napkin and turned to Chase. “Greypa, how come none of our cattle have horns like the ones in your den?”

“Because that set came from a Longhorn steer,” he replied. “Old Captain, he was called, born in Texas and led every herd Benteen Calder trailed north to Montana back in the Triple C's early years.”

“Before I was born?” Jake asked.

“Before your great-grandfather was born,” Trey said. “Can you believe that?”

“I guess so.”

Chase threw him an admonishing look. “Don't make me feel any more ancient than I am, Trey.” Redirecting his attention to Jake, Chase explained, “The Triple C raises Herefords and Hereford crosses now, instead of Longhorns.”

“Oh. So are they astink?”

“What?” Sloan asked, puzzled.

“I want to know if the Longhorners are astink,” Jake answered his mother patiently. “Astink like the dinosaurs,” he clarified.

Chase chuckled. “The word is ‘extinct,' Jake. And no, they're not. But you don't see too many Longhorns these days, especially not in Montana.”

“Why?”

“They like the weather in Texas better,” his father answered.

“Wish we had one. With horns this wide.” Jake extended his arms as far as they could go, then put them down again. “That'd be neat, huh, Greypa? I could show my friends, a real live one instead of just Old Captain's horns.”

“They would be impressed,” Chase agreed.

Jake's wistful words lingered in Chase's mind long after the meal was finished and the dining room emptied. A plan took shape, but Chase waited to implement it until Trey scooped up the sleepy-eyed youngster and nestled him against his shoulder.

“Bedtime for this guy,” he said softly to Chase.

“I'm half-tempted to turn in myself. But I can't. You know, ranch business,” he said vaguely. “Gotta make a few calls.”

As Trey climbed the stairs with Jake, Chase crossed to the den and closed the door behind himself, going to his desk. He sat down and dialed a number he knew by heart.

“Quint?”

“Hey, Gramps. Nice to hear your voice,” came the warm reply. “It will be even better when we can actually see you at Christmas time. We can't wait to get to Montana.”

“Looking forward to it myself,” Chase agreed. “How's Dallas? How's Josh? Never thought the day would come when there'd be a red-headed Calder running around.”

Quint caught his grandfather up on his wife and toddler son, and then asked, “So how's everything up your way?”

“Everything's fine. But I need a favor.”

“Sure. What is it?”

Chase got right to the point. “I want you to buy me a registered Longhorn calf. A bull calf.”

There was a pause of disbelief on Quint's side of the call. “Did I hear you right? You want a Longhorn?”

“It's a Christmas present for Jake,” he explained. “If you find one in time, you can have it shipped to South Camp. I'll let Stumpy Niles know it's coming. If it gets too close to Christmas before you find one, you'll need to fly it up in a cargo plane.”

“Sounds like you have this all thought out,” Quint marveled, faintly amused.

Chase grinned a grin that activated all his wrinkles, laughing. “I sure have. I stuck you with the hard part.”

He raised his head when a knock came on the closed door. “Come in.”

Cat opened it halfway and looked around the edge of the door. “Dad, are you busy?”

“Just talking to Quint.” He spoke to his grandson again. “Your mother's here. Want to talk to her?”

“Of course.”

Chase gestured Cat into the room and handed her the receiver. He looked around for his cane and walked out slowly, still wearing that same grin.

Cat settled into the desk chair he'd vacated, happy to chat with her son. They exchanged small talk and he launched into a story about Josh's first kiss.

“What?” she said with surprise. “He's getting an early start. He's not two yet.”

“Well, it wasn't exactly a kiss. More like bumping faces, very gently. But his little girlfriend didn't seem to mind. She didn't burst into tears or anything. Then Josh patted her hair.”

“My, my,” she said. “He's quite the charmer. Loved those last photos. Thanks for sending them, by the way.”

“You're welcome. So how are you?”

She hesitated.

“I heard you're going on a date,” he inserted on a teasing note.

“How'd you know that?” Cat said in surprise.

“We live in high-tech times, Mom. That famous Triple C ranch telegraph got a boost from e-mail.”

“Oh.” Cat tried to think of what to say, feeling a little chagrined that someone had told him before she could. “Well, yes. I do have a dinner date, but that's all. He's very nice. A friend of Chase's. About my age. His name is Wade Rogers.”

“That's great, Mom,” he said. “I'm really happy you met someone. And have fun. It's time you did.”

They talked for a while longer, then said their good-byes. Cat hung up, staying in the chair for a bit, rocking and thinking. She hadn't known how to tell him, and she was glad that Quint was fine with the idea of her dating someone. Everyone seemed to be.

Like he'd said, it was time.

A pickup truck with the Triple C brand painted on its doors jolted to a stop on a rough road that led to a small barn in South Camp. The barn was newer than the other outbuildings on the ranch, standing about a mile out from the main house.

“Sorry about them ruts in the road,” the cowboy at the wheel said to Chase.

The old man looked down at the little boy beside him. “I'm all right. How about you, Jake?”

“I like going over bumps!” he said.

“That'll change when you're my age,” Chase said wryly. He eased over on the seat after his great-grandson unlatched the door and jumped down. “Thanks, Eddy.”

“No problem. I'll wait for you here.”

Chase grasped his cane and took a deep breath.

“Need a hand gittin' out, sir?”

“Not yet. But that day is coming.” Chase winced as he used the side of the truck for a handhold to get down. He leaned heavily on his cane once he was on the ground. “I don't trust my bad knee to a ranch truck clutch anymore.”

“Not a problem. I'm happy to drive you. You two take your time,” Eddy said. “I'll listen to the radio and roll one.” He took a small pouch and papers out of his shirt pocket.

Chase shut the truck door and turned to follow Jake into the barn. Back in the day, he'd done a regular walk-through of the stables and barns when he could, checking on the stock and the horses. It was one more thing that had slipped away from him. There was always the endless business of running the ranch to attend to, and then, before he knew it, his years had caught up with him.

Chase was determined to look over his operation thoroughly before the inevitable winter storms kept him housebound. He peered into the semi-darkness of the empty barn, hearing Jake's footsteps. “Jake? Don't go up in the hayloft.”

“I didn't, Greypa! Here I am!” The boy came running toward him, full of energy.

“I see you. Settle down,” Chase said, a fond note in his gruff voice.

Jake took the hand that wasn't resting on the cane. “How come you wanted to come here?” he asked. “The stalls are all empty.”

“And that's good,” Chase replied. “This is the barn for animals that need to be apart from the others because they're sick or lame. You know that.”

“Yeah. Mommy let me watch the vet doctor a cow once. Can I be a vet when I grow up?”

“If you want to.”

Jake ran off, climbing on a low stack of haybales and standing on top. “I can see into the stalls from here,” he announced.

“How do they look?” Chase asked.

The boy peered around. “That one's full of fresh hay. The others don't have any.”

Chase nodded. Everything was ready, per his orders. “We always keep a stall prepared, Jake. Winter's coming. Things happen. Now come on down.”

Jake complied, pulling out a straw after he jumped off the last bale.

“Greypa, can I ask you a question?” He looked up, chewing thoughtfully on the straw.

“Sure.” Chase leaned against the haybales, half sitting, half standing.

“One of the cowboys told me that the animals talk on Christmas Eve. Is that true?”

“I don't know. Could be,” Chase replied indulgently. “Which cowboy was that?”

“Lavell—elli—” Jake shook his head. “I can't say it right.”

“You mean Pete Lavelliere? The one from Canada?”

Jake nodded with relief. “That's him.”

“Must be a story they tell up there.”

Jake leaned on the bales beside him, unconsciously mimicking his great-grandfather's stance. “If a horse could talk, I wonder what he'd say.”

Chase chuckled. “Oh, he'd complain that the cinch is too tight. And he'd ask right out for a carrot and never say please.”

The little boy laughed at the idea and scampered off again.

“Where are you going?” Chase called.

Jake went into the stall with the hay. “Just checking,” he called back.

“For what? There's nothing in there.”

The boy came out again. “I wanted to see if there was oats in the nosebag or stuff like that. You said the stall was prepared.” He paused for a beat. “Am I getting a pony for Christmas?”

“No. And don't start asking a lot of pesky questions. Christmas isn't just about what you're getting.”

Jake looked a little ashamed. “I know. Mom said that too.”

“Then you need to remember it,” Chase scolded him gently. “You're going to get to be with your whole family this year. Aunts and uncles and even a baby cousin.”

“Josh isn't such a baby anymore. He can walk now,” Jake said happily.

“Better put any toys that you don't want him to play with out of reach,” Chase advised him with a wink. “Come on. Let's go.”

 

The pickup's high beams threw a tunnel of far-reaching light ahead of the vehicle, illuminating the edges of the ranch road and the dirty mounds of snow the plow had left behind. Moonlight glistened on the crusted surface of the snow that spread away from both sides of the road, the reflection of it stealing much of the night's blackness. Overhead a crescent moon looked down from the eastern sky, a scattering of stars surrounding it.

Just beyond the reach of the headlights, a set of darker masses loomed to flank the road. Laredo recognized the familiar shape of the east gate's stone-pillared entrance and eased his foot onto the brake pedal, slowing the vehicle's speed as it approached the intersection with the state highway.

There was a silky whisper of movement beside him as he slowed the pickup to a halt at the crossroads. He wasn't sorry to see a semitruck approaching from the south, forcing him to wait to pull onto the highway until it passed. He used the pause to steal a glance at Jessy, comfortably ensconced on the cab's passenger seat. The dimness of the dashboard's lights gave a faint sheen to the satiny material of the dress she wore and hinted at the paleness of a shapely calf.

“You do have a gorgeous set of legs,” Laredo drawled the compliment. “And I'm glad you chose tonight to show them off.”

“You did say you were going to wear your Sunday hat,” Jessy reminded him, a smile in her voice. “Since you were making it a special occasion, I thought I should do the same.” She stroked a hand over the skirt's smooth fabric. “And I have to say it feels good.”

“I couldn't agree more.” Laredo swung the pickup onto the highway and smiled to himself.

He suspected that most people—even longtime Triple C hands—would be surprised by Jessy's statement. The Jessy they knew was strong and steady, sure of herself and always in command. Very few even guessed she had a feminine side or that part of her might want to be regarded as a woman and not the boss of the Triple C.

“It's been a long time since I've taken you out to dinner, hasn't it?” Laredo realized. Usually they ended up at the Boar's Nest, the old line shack he'd fixed up to be a comfortable bachelor pad. It offered them total privacy, and most of the time that was all they wanted.

“We went out last fall,” she reminded him.

“Just the same, we should do it more often.”

“Maybe so, but life seems to get in the way a lot.” A quiet acceptance of that fact marked her voice.

“You've got that right.” His mouth crooked in a wry smile of agreement.

The dim glow of manmade lights grew visible a few miles ahead of them, offering the first sign of human habitation since they had left the ranch headquarters. Laredo slowed the pickup's speed as they approached the town of Blue Moon.

It was little more than a wide spot in the road with most of its buildings vacant since the coal mining operation had shut down. On the west side of the road, the combination convenience store and gas station sat in a bright pool of lights, a semi parked beneath its canopy next to a diesel pump. Directly across the highway from it was a restaurant and bar that had gone by many names in the past, but now proclaimed itself to be
KELLY'S BAR AND GRILL
.

“Marsha finally got her new sign installed.” Laredo gestured in its direction.

“The lights are so bright, no one can complain about not seeing it.” Jessy winced slightly at the glare.

“Probably LEDs,” Laredo guessed and turned the pickup into the parking lot, which was already more than half full. “Looks like the Friday night crowd has already beat us here.”

“Unless you want to drive all the way to Miles City, where else are you going to go?” Jessy reasoned, reaching for the door handle the instant the pickup rolled to a stop.

The sharp cold of the winter night made itself felt as soon as she swung down from the pickup's warm cab. Briefly Jessy wished she'd worn pants, then suppressed a shiver and moved briskly to link up with Laredo.

Together they struck out for the front entrance. Only when they reached the steps did Jessy slow her pace and run an assessing glance over the building with its lighted windows.

“I'm glad this place is back in the hands of a local again,” Jessy remarked in an idle, musing tone.

“I can't say I miss the clatter of all those slot machines Donovan had in here. Still…his selection of—shall we call them waitresses?—was rather easy on the eye.” He grinned. “Or shouldn't I have noticed them?”

“As long as all you did was notice them, why should I care,” Jessy returned smoothly.

Laredo laughed softly and opened the door for her.

A steady hum of voices greeted them when they walked in, punctuated by an occasional laugh or the crack of balls coming from the pool table area. Off to the side, a jukebox offered a country song with a two-step beat. Familiar faces were everywhere, some from the Triple C, others neighbors. Jessy recognized most of them; only those of the younger generation did she have trouble connecting to a name. She suspected it was merely one more sign she was getting older.

“Table or booth?” she asked Laredo, spotting a couple vacant ones of each.

“Booth,” he said and guided her to an end one that offered them a semblance of privacy.

When they reached the booth, Laredo helped her out of her heavy winter coat and tossed it onto the booth seat, then shrugged out of his own while Jessy slid into the booth. A little too late, she remembered to gather up the material of her dress as she did, revealing a fair amount of thigh in the process.

“Move over,” Laredo said and let his coat join hers on the opposite seat, then slid in next to her.

“We're going to look like a pair of teenagers,” Jessy murmured, more self-conscious than actually embarrassed.

“When I'm with you, there are times when I feel like one,” Laredo admitted, a caressing quality in a low-pitched voice intended for her hearing only.

Just for a moment she was caught up by the loving look in his eyes. She almost forgot they were in a room full of people. Then someone hailed her from across the way, snapping the spell. Jessy waved a response and reached for the menu propped behind the paper napkin dispenser.

“What are you going to have?” she asked.

“Steak. Like always. Medium rare.”

Jessy looked up to find the waitress standing at their booth. “Might as well make it two.”

After they had given the waitress their order, Laredo stretched an arm along the back of the booth behind her and angled himself toward her.

“Did I tell you that I've figured out where I want to put the hot tub you're getting me for Christmas?”

“You're serious about this, aren't you?” Jessy realized with a small, amazed laugh.

“You mean you haven't bought it yet?” he chided mockingly. “It doesn't have to be anything gigantic. Something just big enough for two.”

“That's a relief.”

“Christmas isn't very far away. You'd better get to shopping,” Laredo warned.

“Tell me about it. I still haven't gotten anything for Sloan.”

“Mind if I make a suggestion?”

Jessy started to say “yes,” then hesitated. “I don't think she wants a hot tub, too.”

“No, I agree.” His expression grew serious. “But there is one thing that would mean a lot to her.”

“What's that?”

“The Calder family Bible.”

She was immediately struck by the rightness of his choice. Her daughter-in-law had grown up an orphan, without a place she could call home or any relatives like Laredo. And who else but Laredo would know how empty life could feel without a sense of belonging somewhere.

“You could get her some other little something besides that, but—” Laredo began.

“You're right. The Bible is the perfect main gift for her.” Jessy nodded in satisfaction, then gave him a sideways glance. “So what are you buying me?”

Laredo pulled back. “That's a surprise.”

“You can give me a hint at least.”

They bantered back and forth on the topic until the waitress returned with their drinks and meal order. After that, talking took a back seat to the business of eating.

They had almost finished their steaks when Ross Kelly stopped by their booth. “How are the steaks? It's Calder beef so they should be good.”

“They're delicious,” Jessy assured him. “I don't know what you used for seasoning—”

Ross held up a warning hand, a big grin splitting his face. “And I'll never tell, so don't bother asking. It's my own secret recipe.”

“Spoken like a true chef.” Laredo half-rose in greeting, extending a hand to Ross who shook it.

“I'm working at it.” Ross cleared the end of the opposite booth seat and perched his wide-hipped frame on the outer edge of it after darting a quick glance at the kitchen to make sure he wasn't needed.

“Doesn't sound like you've started missing being on the road,” Jessy guessed. “After a couple years operating this place, I thought you might get homesick for it.”

“Not a chance,” he declared. “Cooking has always been something I loved doing. And with diesel prices being what they are, a man can't make good money anymore driving a truck. This place came up for sale at the right time for Marsha and me.”