Santa In Montana

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Santa In Montana Page 3

by Janet Dailey


  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.

  There had never been any doubt in Laredo’s mind that Jessy
had never liked Tara. But the other woman had always had an uncanny knack for insinuating herself into the lives of the Calder family. Wisely Tara had focused her attention on her ex-husband’s children, fully aware that the rest of the family merely tolerated her presence. Laredo had long ago decided that Tara found some perverse form of pleasure in that.

  The more he thought about it, the more convinced he became that Chase was right; Tara was doing it again; this time from the grave.

  And that might be the very thing that was sticking in Jessy’s throat at the moment.

  Deciding a slight change of subject would be welcomed; Laredo provided the opening to Jessy. “This might be a good time to mention that suggestion Dallas made.”

  “What suggestion is that?” Trey wondered.

  “Selling off the main ranch house at the Slash R along with the necessary acreage to encompass the helipad and access to the highway,” Jessy replied. “I thought it was a very practical idea, considering that we’ve already decided we want to maintain our headquarters at the Cee Bar. The Slash R ranch house is much too lavish to be used as a foreman’s quarters.”

  “Would you be comfortable with that decision?” Chase directed his question to Sloan; aware—as they all were—that Max Rutledge had been her childhood guardian.

  “Absolutely,” she replied without hesitation. “I have few good memories left of the place.”

  Trey exchanged a glance with his mother. “Looks like we can add one more thing to Quint’s list of things to do.”

  “Which is one more reason I won’t be going to Texas for Thanksgiving,” Cat declared and proceeded to clear away the soup dishes while Jessy passed around the makings for sandwiches.

  “Isn’t anyone going to bring up the other elephant in the room?” Chase challenged.

  “What elephant, Greypa?” Jake looked around the dining room with wide-eyed interest. “I don’t see it. Where is it?”

  “It’s just a figure of speech, bud,” Trey told him. “There isn’t a real elephant in here.” He smiled at Jake’s obvious disappointment, then glanced at Chase. “I think Grandpa’s talking about the summerhouse Tara built over in Wolf Meadow.”

  “Summerhouse.” Chase snorted at the phrase. “If that’s what you call it, then the Homestead is a log cabin. That place rivals anything Rutledge built at the Slash R, plus she added an airstrip. He just had a teensy little helipad.”

  “Trey and I were talking about it just the other day,” Sloan began.

  Chase pinned her with an arrow-sharp look. “Are you two thinking about moving over there to live?”

  Catching his combative tone, Cat spoke up. “It would give them a lot more privacy than they have here.”

  “I’m not interested in us living there,” Sloan said quickly. “But I am convinced you would have no trouble at all leasing the place as a summer retreat to various companies, or even individuals.”

  There was a full second of heavy silence at the table. When Chase spoke, it was in a carefully controlled but terse tone.

  “The Triple C will not be turned into a dude ranch while I’m alive.”

  “Trey told me much the same thing,” Sloan admitted. “Still, it seems such a waste for the place to sit unused, all locked up.”

  “She has a point,” Cat agreed. “Someone needs to be living there. Otherwise it’s just going to slowly deteriorate.” The minute the words were out of her mouth, she pointed a warning finger at Chase. “And don’t you dare suggest that I go live there!”

  “I wouldn’t waste my breath suggesting it.”

  “I should hope not.”

  “A decision of some sort has to be made about it. We can’t keep putting it off,” Chase stated, then glanced at Jessy. “When was the last time anyone checked on the place?”

  “Fall roundup,” she replied. “When we made our gather at Wolf Meadow, I rode over and took a look around. I didn’t have a key so I couldn’t go inside, but everything looked fine.”

  “Just the same, you might as well fly over there this afternoon and inspect the house inside and out, as well as all the outbuildings. See if it can be converted to an outcamp for that corner of the ranch.”

  “That would mean building a road to it, Gramps,” Trey inserted, reminding Chase that the site was only accessible by air.

  “That’s a cost we’ll have to weigh against its potential use,” Chase replied.

  “I have a meeting this afternoon, but I can fly over there in the morning,” Jessy told him. “Would you want to ride along, Chase?”

  He shook his head. “After riding an hour in that cramped cockpit, my arthritis would have me so stoved up, you’d have to pry me out of the plane. You and Laredo go. Why don’t you ride along with them, Cat?” he suggested. “Do you good to get away for a bit. Have a change of scenery.”

  “You just want me out of the house so I won’t be around to nag you,” she retorted.

  “That wasn’t my reason at all,” he stated, his exasperation showing.

  “I’m sure it wasn’t,” Cat agreed. “But I can’t go tomorrow anyway. I want to get a jumpstart on baking the pies for Thanksgiving, and get a few casseroles made ahead as well so all I’ll have to do is pop them in the oven.”

  “Can I go with you, Grandma?” Jake piped up, eyeing Jessy with unabashed eagerness. “I like riding in planes.”

  “True. You’ve flown so often,” Trey teased, but the observation sailed over Jake’s head.

  “I’d love to have you fly with me, as long as your mom says it’s okay.” Jessy smiled her answer.

  “Mom won’t care. Will you, Mom?” He turned an earnest look on Sloan.

  “You can go, as long as you promise to be good.” Sloan qualified her permission.

  “I’m always good. Aren’t I, Grandma?” he asserted with confidence.

  “Almost always.”

  Through the rest of the meal Jake peppered her with questions. How high would they fly? Would they go through any clouds? How does a plane stay in the air? Could he take his gun along—a toy—so he could shoot any coyotes he saw? Why are some clouds gray and some white? Jessy tried to answer his questions truthfully, but she had to be quick to keep Laredo from offering one of his tall tale answers.

  Finished with her own meal, Cat stood. “Anyone want dessert? There’s some cake in the kitchen. Or fruit if you like?”

  “Not me.” Chase pushed his chair back from the table and reached for his cane. “I’ve got some phone calls to make. I’ll be in the den if anyone wants me.”

  Cat watched him leave, then mused aloud, “I wonder who he’s going to call?”

  “Ask him,” Laredo told her.

  “I did. He wouldn’t tell me, just went all mysterious and said it wasn’t any of my business.” An answer she clearly didn’t like.

  “Maybe it isn’t,” Laredo countered.

  “More than likely he’s calling some store to buy a Christmas present for one of us,” Cat decided. “After the patrolman left this morning, Dad did talk about this being a special Christmas we’ll be celebrating this year with the whole family getting together.”

  “I bet I know what he’s gonna buy,” Jake declared, then smugly pressed his lips tightly together rather than confess the secret he shared with his great-grandfather. He was a bit disappointed when no one took the bait and asked him what it was.

  The single-engine Cessna Skylane swept through the wide blue sky while its shadow raced across the rough and broken land below it. Jessy was at the controls, automatically scanning the country before her. Every low mesa and wide coulee had a distinctive characteristic that enabled Jessy to pinpoint her location in this vast emptiness. Laredo occupied the co-pilot’s seat, his glance idly turning to look out the side window.

  Buckled into his child’s seat directly behind Jessy, Jake strained forward to tap the back of her seat. “Hey, Grandma. Are we there yet?”

  “Almost,” she answered with a slight turn of her head in his direction, then pointed to a spo
t slightly to the left of the airplane’s nose. “Did you see that butte just ahead of us?”

  Jake craned his head to the side. “The big one?”

  “That’s Antelope Butte.” As always Jessy used any excursion with her grandson to teach him more about the Triple C. “The landing strip is just below it. Won’t be long now.”

  Behind her, Jake settled back in his seat, content that his confinement wouldn’t last much longer. Jessy pushed the plane’s nose slightly below the horizon line to begin the descent.

  Feeling the movement, Laredo looked back at Jake. “We’re starting down, bud. Make sure your seatbelt’s tight.”

  “Right.” Obediently Jake gave it a tightening pull.

  “I want to do a flyby to make sure the strip is in good shape,” she said to Laredo. “Keep your eyes peeled for any buckling of the concrete.”

  “Will do.”

  Jessy made a low pass over the strip. Its lack of use in recent years was evident in the mix of tall grass and weeds that hugged the runway’s edges. Some had taken root wherever there was a crack in the concrete surface. But the visual examination found no potentially hazardous break-up or heaving.

  The plane landed without incident and taxied to the padlocked hangar. After nearly forty minutes of forced inactivity, Jake was all raw energy when Laredo swung him to the ground.

  “Where are we gonna go first, Grandma?”

  Drawing in a bracing breath, Jessy let her glance sweep over the stables and adjacent corrals to the left, the idle blades of windmill eleven, and the half hidden grounds-keepers’ quarters before coming to a halt on the low profile of the sprawling main house. It had been Tara’s summer base, built on land she had purchased from the government, preventing Chase from gaining title to it until after her death. As always, the sight of it evoked memories—some bitter, but most just remembrances of the past.

  “That first building,” she told Jake, nodding in its direction.

  “Bet I beat cha there,” he challenged.

  “I’ll bet you do,” Jessy agreed and watched him take off at a run. She and Laredo followed at their usual striding pace.

 

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