Santa In Montana (6 page)

“The pleasure was all mine.” Chase briefly gripped Wade's hand, holding his gaze. “Stay in touch.”

“Will do.” Wade nodded, but Cat sensed it was more a perfunctory response than a commitment.

As he began his good-byes to the others, Cat saw her opening and rose from her chair. “I'll get your coat for you.”

By the time she retrieved his coat from the wall hook, Wade joined her in the entryway. Conscious of the flutterings in the pit of her stomach, Cat waited while he shrugged into his coat and mentally rehearsed the things she wanted to say, barely registering his compliments on the noon meal.

“I'm glad you enjoyed it,” she answered automatically and started to launch into her speech. “Mr. Rogers—”

“I thought we agreed that it was just Wade, not Mr. Rogers.” He smiled, the action carving those attractive male dimples in his cheeks again.

She was momentarily distracted—and a little thrown—by the sight of them. “Wade,” she corrected herself, conscious of the slight quaver in her voice. “I want to apologize for all that talk at lunch today about a husband. I know it had to feel a bit awkward.”

He tipped his head at a thoughtful angle. “I suspect it was more awkward for you than me.”

Ignoring his observation, Cat continued, “Anyway, I want you to know—”

“—that you're not interested in me in that way,” he finished for her.

She hadn't planned to put it quite that bluntly. “Something like that, yes,” she admitted, feeling even more uncomfortable.

“Even though I guessed that—actually hearing you admit it—suddenly I'm sorry you feel that way.” At his slightly reluctant admission, Cat found herself at a rare loss for words. As if sensing it, he offered his hand in farewell. “Let me thank you again for your hospitality.”

“Anytime.” Cat struggled to get the word out, her pulse skittering madly at the brief touch of his hand.

He held her gaze a second longer then turned away. Cold air rushed into the entry when he opened the door. It swirled around Cat even after Wade closed the door behind him. The click of the latch snapping into place broke the restraint she had placed on herself.

Hands clenched, Cat swung away from the door. “Why? Why? Why?” she berated herself in a barely audible murmur.

“Why did I react like that?”

Yet the reason was obvious, even to Cat. Pride. She had such an abundance of it. And in her determination to convince him she wasn't some man-hungry widow, she had been trapped by her own pride, totally incapable of responding in kind when Wade had indicated an interest in her. Cat knew she was attracted to him, sufficiently so that she was curious to know where it might lead.

“Anytime.” The word echoed in her mind, with all its undertones of polite indifference, and total lack of encouragement for Wade to come back.

She told herself it was probably for the best that this had happened. Otherwise she would have lived in hope that he would come back to the ranch. At least now she knew that would never happen. The best thing was to block him from her mind, forget she'd ever met someone named Wade Rogers.

With a determined lift of her head, she retraced her steps to the dining room, entering just as Laredo emptied the contents of the carafe into his coffee cup. Cat immediately seized the excuse to gain a few more moments to herself.

“Here. Let me take that and I'll fill it back up.” She reached for the insulated carafe before Laredo could set it back on the table.

“Don't need to fill it for me,” Chase stated. “I've had enough.”

“There are others who might want a cup,” Cat reminded him and headed for the kitchen.

Chase watched her leave, then slid a wry look at Laredo. “I get the feeling she hasn't forgiven me for teasing her about Wade,” he said, without an ounce of remorse in his voice.

“And I have the feeling you're hoping she gets so mad that she'll stop talking to you at all,” Laredo replied with a knowing look.

“Put a quick end to the nagging, wouldn't it?” Chase countered, eyes twinkling, then pulled in a deep breath and released it in a satisfied sigh. “It's been a full morning…and a busy one. Think I might stretch out and close my eyes for a bit.” He retrieved the cane propped against the arm of his chair, and dipped his head toward the kitchen. “If she wonders where I am, let her know I'll be in my room.”

Jake stared at him in amazement. “Are you really going to take a nap, Greypa?”

“Yes, Jake, I really am.” Chase pushed out of his chair and headed for the west wing, the end of his cane thumping the floor with each stride.

Worried, Jake risked a sideways glance at his mother. “I don't have to take a nap before I go sledding, do I? 'Cause Luke—he's 'specting me right after lunch.”

“If you finish your milk, you can skip the nap.”

Jake didn't give her a chance to reconsider, grabbing the milk glass and downing its contents in two long gulps. “All done,” he announced, pushing the glass on the table and sliding off his chair in one continuous motion. “Let's go.”

With an amused shake of her head, Sloan stood up and tossed a glance at Jessy. “I guess I didn't really want that second cup of coffee.”

“Good thing.” Jessy smiled back at her. The small smile stayed in place while she listened to the run of conversation between Sloan and Jake when she joined him in the entry. Jake was still chattering away when they went out the front door. The silence was instant. “It's amazing how quiet the house seems after Jake leaves,” she remarked to Laredo.

His only response was an agreeing sound as he continued to contemplate the dark surface of his coffee. Jessy made a sideways study of him, noting the expression of deep thought.

Curious, she asked, “What's those wheels of yours turning?”

It was a moment before he answered. “That Rogers guy.” He raised his cup to his mouth and took a long sip from it.

“What about him?”

His shoulders shifted in an idle shrug. “Out of the blue, this guy calls Chase and invites himself here. Claims he wanted to see the ranch.”

“What's so unusual about that?”

“Nothing,” Laredo agreed, then met her glance. “It's funny though, the whole time he was here, he never budged from the house.”

“How could he with all the snow we have?”

He dismissed that excuse with a quick shake of his head. “No. Something tells me he had another reason for coming here.”

“You don't really think he wants to cause us trouble,” Jessy said with open skepticism.

“Even you have to admit something doesn't smell right.”

“Not to your nose,” she countered.

“Have it your way.” As usual, Laredo didn't argue and simply pushed his chair back from the table. “But I'll take odds that we haven't seen the last of him.”

Jessy stood up. “I think you're forgetting that he's the son of a long-time family friend.”

“That's what Chase said, too.” But he remained unswayed by the fact.

She started to remind him that Chase wouldn't lie, then caught back the words. It was Laredo's nature to be suspicious of anyone he didn't personally know. His instincts were usually right, but this was one case where time would prove him wrong. Jessy was sure of it.

Moonlight glistened on the snow pack that edged the ranch yard and turned the exposed and rutted ground a deep black. Bundled against the night's chill, Sloan emerged from the Homestead and crossed to the steps. There, she paused to scan the yard for any movement that might indicate Trey was on his way back.

All was still. She focused her attention on the old barn and the light that showed in one of its small windows. Down the steps she went and struck out for the old heavy timbered barn. The cold air nipped at her skin and turned each exhalation of breath into a steamy vapor. Automatically Sloan quickened her steps to reach the barn's promised warmth.

The temperature inside the barn was a good ten degrees warmer. Sloan noticed the change the instant she stepped inside. At almost the same instant she spotted Trey's familiar tall frame as he stepped out of a stall halfway down the wide alleyway.

“Hey, there,” she called out softly when he swung back to close the door behind him.

His head turned her way, the brim of his hat shadowing his eyes, but his smile of welcome was clear to see. “This is a nice surprise.”

“I thought it might be.” She crossed to his side and let his encircling arm draw her against him. “Jessy said you'd come down here to check on an injured horse.”

Her side-glance took note of the stall's occupant, a yearling filly currently nosing at the hay in its manger. The thickness of the animal's winter coat dulled its sorrel color and almost hid the scattering of cuts along its withers and hips.

“What happened to her?” Sloan asked.

“Somehow she broke through the ice down at the river,” Trey replied. “When the boys took hay out this morning, they found her, soaking wet and blood oozing from a half dozen cuts.”

“But how did she get cut up like that?” Sloan frowned.

“Ice can be as sharp as a razor. But she has one nasty gash that's a little too deep and ragged to be from ice,” he explained. “If I had to guess I'd say she probably got it from a submerged tree limb. She'll be fine. So, have you got Jake all tucked in for the night?”

“All tucked in, and he's sound asleep. I thought about going through the photos I took at Wolf Meadow yesterday to start compiling an inventory list, then I decided to come find you instead.” She snuggled closer to him, relishing the warmth of his body heat.

“Cold?” he guessed.

“Frozen,” Sloan admitted. “I don't think I'll ever get used to your Montana winters.”

“Miss those warm Hawaiian breezes, do you?”

“A little.”

“Maybe we can slip away for a week or so in January and introduce Jake to the Pacific Ocean.”

“Is that a promise?” Sloan tipped her head back to look at him. “Before you answer, be warned that I'll hold you to it if you say ‘yes.'”

“In that case”—Trey arched an eyebrow, eyes twinkling—“maybe I'd better say that it's a definite ‘maybe.'”

“Not fair.” She emphasized her reply with a playful poke in the ribs, his wool-lined parka absorbing much of the poke.

He turned serious as he ran a searching look over her face. “You are happy here, aren't you?”

“Happier than I've ever been in my whole life,” she assured him, “even if I never set foot in Hawaii again.”

“Just wanted to be sure.” He made his tone deliberately light, as if his question hadn't been a serious one at all. “Ready to head up to the house?”

“If you're done here?”

“I am.” Keeping an arm around her shoulders, he guided her toward the door.

Outside the barn, Sloan waited while he turned off its interior lights and closed the door behind him, checking to make sure it was securely latched. Side by side, they struck out for the Homestead.

Sloan lifted her gaze to the large, two-story structure, its white brick revealed as a pale color in the moonlight. Red, blue, and green lights twinkled around the twin trees flanking the front door as well as the wreaths hung in each front window.

“The house looks so beautiful all decked out for Christmas,” she murmured, unconsciously giving voice to her thoughts.

The sight of it triggered another thought in Trey's mind. “In another couple weeks it'll be time to decorate the barn for our annual Christmas party.”

“It's always the last Saturday before Christmas, isn't it,” Sloan recalled. “That sounds far away, but it really isn't, even though Thanksgiving was only a week ago. Which reminds me, I'll be gone most of tomorrow.”

“Where?” It was an idle question, born of casual curiosity.

“A couple of us ranch wives are going to Miles City to buy toys for the Marines' campaign. We have our list done, so hopefully it won't take long once we hit the stores.”

“I like the way you said that.” His mouth curved in a pleased smile.

“Said what?” She slid him a puzzled glance.

“Us ranch wives. It tells me you finally feel like one of them.”

Sloan thought about it and nodded. “I guess I do.”

“See the stars.” The gloved hand resting on her shoulder lifted, a finger pointing skyward. “On cold nights like this they always remind me of ice crystals scattered across a black sky.”

Scanning nature's stardusted canopy, Sloan nodded in agreement, murmuring, “They're beautiful.”

“Almost as beautiful as you are.”

Surprised by the compliment that seemed to come out of nowhere, she turned her head to look at him. “I do believe you're putting the make on me.”

“And what's wrong with an old married man putting the make on his wife?” Trey countered with a challenging lift of an eyebrow.

“Nothing at all.” Her upturned face invited his kiss, and Trey was quick to oblige, his head dipping down, his mouth covering her night-cooled lips, heating them both.

When they parted, their eyes locked for a long moment, but neither spoke. All that needed to be said was communicated with that look. An easy silence ran between them as they resumed their path to the Homestead.

Sloan broke it when they reached the columned front porch. “Do you know what would be good now?”

“Something tells me it's not going to be what I'm thinking,” Trey guessed.

“A hot cup of cocoa.”

“Nope, that isn't what I had in mind.”

Well aware of that, Sloan laughed, and Trey responded with a wide smile of his own. “My turn will come later.”

“You sound awfully confident of that,” Sloan teased as they entered the house.

“Damn straight I am 'cause I know you love me.” He shrugged out of his sheepskin-lined parka and draped it on a wall hook.

“And you love me,” Sloan countered, unbuttoning her own parka. “Which is why you're going to help me fix that cocoa.”

“I think that's called wifely blackmail,” Trey chided with affection, then flicked a glance toward the living room where the sound of the television could be heard. “First we'd better see if anyone else would like some cocoa.”

But when they crossed to the living room, Trey was surprised to find his mother was the room's sole occupant. “Where is everybody?”

Jessy pulled her attention away from the program she was watching. “I'm not sure but I think Cat's in the kitchen, and Laredo left shortly after you went to the barn.”

“So early?” Trey said with some surprise.

“He claimed he wanted to figure out where to install the hot tub I'm getting him for Christmas,” she replied with a disbelieving smile.

“You're getting a hot tub to put at the Boar's Nest?” Trey grinned at the thought.

“According to Laredo, I am.”

For the life of him, Trey couldn't imagine his mother lounging in a hot tub, but if anyone could coax her into one, it was Laredo. “Gramps called it a night, did he?”

“No, he's in the den. Wade Rogers phoned and he took the call in there where the television wouldn't bother him.”

“That name sounds familiar.” Trey frowned, trying to recall where he'd heard it. “I can't place it, though.”

It was Sloan who answered. “He's the son of someone Chase knows—the one who stopped by on Monday when you were at South Camp.”

“You mean the one Jake decided was going to be Cat's new husband.” His smile widened into a grin as he made the connection to Wade Rogers.

“That's the one.” Sloan nodded, then directed her attention to Jessy. “We're going to make some cocoa. Would you like a cup?”

“I'll pass.”

Sloan glanced at the closed doors to the den. “Should we check with Chase?”

Jessy waved aside the question. “Just make him a cup. If it's fixed, he'll drink it.”

“Will do.” He tucked a steering hand under Sloan's arm and turned her toward the kitchen. “Come on, little miss cocoa maker, let's get this show on the road.”

Jessy had been right when she guessed that Cat was in the kitchen. She was standing at the counter, pouring a dark liquid into an over-sized plastic bag containing a large roast. She spared the pair a glance when they walked in.

“How's the filly?” she asked Trey.

“She'll be fine. What's that you're fixing?” He bobbed his head, indicating the plastic bag.

“I ran across a new marinade recipe that I decided I wanted to try on tomorrow's roast. It recommends letting it set overnight.” Cat zipped the bag shut. “So what are you two up to?”

“Sloan decided she wanted some hot cocoa.” Trey removed the jug of milk from the refrigerator and held the door open for Cat while she placed the pan with the marinating roast in its bag on a cleared shelf. “So far we have orders for three cups. Care to make it four?”

“Isn't Dad having one?” She glanced at him in surprise.

“That's who the third one's for, although he doesn't know it yet.” He let the door swing closed and handed the milk jug to Sloan.

“Didn't you ask him?” Cat glanced his way with a questioning frown.

“Couldn't. He was on the phone.” Trey paused a beat, a teasing light suddenly dancing in his eyes. “Actually he was talking to your future husband—at least, according to Jake.”

“My—” Cat broke off that phrase. “He was on the phone with Wade Rogers.”

“That's the man,” he confirmed.

Was this a second chance? The question held Cat motionless for an instant. She honestly didn't know whether it was or not. But she realized she would never find out if she didn't take advantage of this opportunity. Ignoring the odd tingling sensation she felt, Cat moved toward the living room.

“Hey, you never said whether you wanted some cocoa,” Trey called after her.

“No, thanks.” The way her stomach was churning, she doubted she could keep it down.

When she walked into the living room, two things registered at once—the sight of Jessy sitting alone on the couch and the closed doors to the den. Immediately Cat altered her course and crossed to the latter.

She knocked once on the door and pushed it open. As she expected, Chase was seated behind the desk, the telephone to his ear. Irritation flickered in his expression as his gaze touched her.

“Just a minute,” he said into the mouthpiece, then cupped a hand over it. “Did you need something, Cat?”

Fighting back an almost paralyzing attack of nerves, Cat plunged ahead. “Trey said you were on the phone with Wade Rogers. I'd like to speak to him when you finish.”

He showed his surprise at the request with the lift of an eyebrow and a long, considering look. Without responding directly to Cat, he removed his hand from the receiver's mouthpiece and said into it, “Before I let you go, Wade, my daughter wants to speak to you. Hang on.” He held out the phone to her.

For a moment her legs felt like jelly. Somehow Cat managed to cross to the desk and take the phone from him. “Mr. Rogers—”

“Wade,” he corrected, the deep, rich timbre of his voice spilling over and through her.

“Wade,” she said and started her speech again, aware that her voice sounded calm despite the chaos going on inside her. “I think I might have left you with the impression that I was only being polite when I said you would be welcome at the Triple C anytime. And that isn't the case at all. If chance should bring you our way again, I do hope you'll stop.”

“Do you mean that?”

“I do. Really.”

“As it happens, I'll be in Montana the first of the week. I'd like to take you up on that invitation.”

Cat gripped the phone a little tighter, conscious of the surge of gladness shooting through her. “I'll look forward to seeing you then.” She flicked a glance at her father. “I'll give you back to my…”

“No need. Chase and I were finished. Tell him I'll see him next week. Bye, Cat.”

“Good-bye.” She handed the phone back to Chase. “He said he'd stop the first of the week.”

Only a blind man would fail to notice the way Cat's eyes were shining, and Chase was not blind. Wisely he chose not to comment on it.

“I'm glad you told him we'd all welcome him,” he said instead.

She gave him a narrowed look of sudden wariness. “Dad, when he comes, don't you dare start in with that husband nonsense again.”

“I wouldn't dream of it. After all,” Chase added with a barely suppressed smile, “we wouldn't want to scare him off, would we?”

“Dad!” Cat protested, all indignant.

“Don't worry. Your secret's safe with me.” He pushed his chair back from the desk and collected his cane.

Cat opened her mouth to deny that she had any secret, then released all that righteous anger in a sigh and shook her head in amusement. “Arguing with you is hopeless.”

She spun away and crossed to the doorway, meeting Trey on his way in with Chase's cup of cocoa. “I hope you'd like some hot cocoa, Gramps, because we fixed you a cup.”

 

With the coming of the weekend, a warm front moved in, lifting the daytime temperatures into the forties and making conditions ideal for a trip into the foothills to find the perfect Christmas tree. Several candidates were located, but it was the one Jake picked out that they hauled back to the Homestead. Sunday afternoon was spent decorating it, with the whole family taking part, although Chase played more of a supervisory role.