Santa In Montana

by Janet Dailey

  “It’s been a good many years since I was here last,” Laredo remarked. “Not that I ever came here all that often. Still, I forgot how well it blends into the butte’s face.”

  Jessy studied the roof that was almost the same brownish color as the earth wall behind it. “It’s one of the rare times Tara showed some restraint.” A sudden smile flashed across her expression. “At least until you get to the inside.”

  As they crossed the driveway’s paving stones to approach the house, Jake came running back to meet them. “I rang the bell, Grandma, but nobody came to open the door.”

  “That’s because no one lives here.” Continuing toward the front door, Jessy slipped the key from her jacket pocket.

  “How come?” Jake persisted.

  “To make little boys like you ask questions.” Laredo reached down to give the front brim of Jake’s cowboy hat a downward push over his eyes.

  “’Redo, don’t.” Jake frowned in displeasure and tipped it back up, but it served to distract him from that line of questioning. “Are we going inside, Grandma?”

  “We sure are.”

  The prospect of exploring the unoccupied house clearly appealed to him, as evidenced by the way he sprinted back to the front door. With barely disguised impatience, Jake waited while Jessy unlocked it. He darted through the opening the instant she gave the door an inward push.

  Everything inside was just as Tara had left it. But to Jake’s disappointment, there was little to be seen. All the furnishings were shrouded in dust-protecting cloth, even the antlered chandelier that hung from the coffered ceiling. Jessy’s inspection of the house amounted to little more than a cursory walk through of each room to check for any signs of a leaking roof or broken windows.

  When they exited the last room and started down the wide hallway, Jake heaved a big, bored sigh and looked hopefully at Jessy.

  “Are we done yet, Grandma?”

  “All done.” She smiled, as glad as he was that the task was complete.

  With an uninhibited shout of “Yippee!” Jake ran ahead of them, the rapid clump of his booted feet echoing through the emptiness. He beat them to the front door, but was still struggling with its oversized handle when they joined him. Laredo opened it for him, then waited outside while Jessy relocked it with the key.

  “Chase pegged this place right when he called it a white elephant,” Laredo remarked when Jessy turned, tucking the key back in her pocket. “What are you going to do with it?”

  Jessy shook her head. “I wish I knew.”

  “Where to now, Grandma?” Jake stood poised at the edge of the weed-invaded stone walk.

  “We’re going to check the other buildings,” she told him. “You can run on ahead.”

  Immediately he took off and Laredo fell in step with Jessy. “Let me rephrase my question,” he said. “If you could do anything you liked, what would you want to do with it?”

  “Anything?”

  “Anything,” Laredo confirmed.

  “That’s easy. I’d bulldoze it.”

  “Then do it. Auction off everything inside, give the proceeds to some charity, and tear the place down.”

  “You’re serious.” She eyed him with a mixture of hope and uncertainty.

  “You’re damned right I am. What else are you gonna do with a white elephant out in the middle of nowhere that you can’t sell or give away?”

  “True,” she agreed, but he could tell she wasn’t convinced.

  “You’re letting that practical streak get in the way,” Laredo chided. “White elephants and practicality don’t go together. If they did, someone in this family would have come up with a solution a couple years ago after all the paperwork came through giving the Triple C clear title to this place.”

  “You have a point,” she conceded.

  “Suggest it to Chase.” Laredo smiled. “I’m betting he’ll think it’s a helluva good idea.”

  “I think I will.” The minute the words were out, Jessy felt that nameless tension easing from her. She headed toward the outbuildings with a new interest in assessing their potential use.

  Laredo observed the subtle change in her mood, but wisely didn’t voice it. Instead he kept Jake occupied, leaving Jessy free to look things over without any distractions.

  When Jessy emerged from the caretaker’s quarters, Laredo stood a short distance away watching Jake gallop his imaginary horse in a wide circle. His attention shifted to her as she approached him.

  “Everything okay in there, too?”

  She answered with an absent nod. “I’d forgotten the house had three bedrooms. We just might be able to use Wolf Meadow as an outcamp. Our manpower is spread a little thin in this sector. Usually it’s not been much of a problem unless we have a hard winter.”

  “That would mean putting a connecting road in,” Laredo reminded her.

  “One of the old ranch roads used to come within three-quarters of a mile of old windmill eleven. Chase blocked it off and tore out the culvert when Tara gained title to Wolf Meadow. He wanted to make sure she couldn’t use it.” She cast a thoughtful glance in the direction of the old road. “It will take some work to make that road useable again, but it wouldn’t be as costly as putting in a whole new road.”

  “It looks like you’ve come up with…at least a partial solution for this place,” Laredo said.

  Just as Jessy opened her mouth to reply, there came a shouted “Whoa!” from Jake. Both turned to look. Laredo smiled in amusement at the sight of the young boy veering off his wide circle into some taller grass.

  “Looks like Jake has himself a pretend runaway.” Laredo exchanged smiling glances with Jessy.

  As always, Jessy used the opportunity to teach her grandson. “Let your horse run a bit,” she called. “Don’t pull back on the reins right away. He’ll just fight you. Make him go in a circle instead. That will slow him down.”

  She watched in approval while Jake followed her instructions and brought his imaginary mount under control and started back toward them. Abruptly he stopped and stared at something to his left.

  Jake pointed to it. “What’s that little pen for, Grandma?”

  There, half hidden by the tall grasses and weeds, were a series of fence posts that boxed in an area roughly ten feet square. Jessy stared at it for an uncomprehending second before she realized what it was.

  “That’s a cemetery plot, Jake,” she told him.

  “You mean like that place we got down by the river where Grandpa’s…buried?” He frowned his uncertainty of the word’s meaning.

  “Just like that,” Jessy confirmed. “Only this one’s smaller. And badly neglected, too,” she added in an undertone to Laredo, then walked over for a closer look, joined by both Laredo and Jake.

  “Who’s buried here?” Laredo tried to make out the name on the gravestone through the high weeds.

  “Buck Haskell and his father,” Jessy replied.

  “Really.” Laredo frowned in surprise. “I didn’t remember that.”

  “Probably not. You probably hadn’t been here on the Triple C much more than two or three years when Buck was killed in that head-on collision. We offered to have him buried in the ranch cemetery, but Vernon—Buck’s dad—wouldn’t hear of it. Of course, Vernon always blamed Chase for the way Buck turned out, insisting that if Chase hadn’t testified against him, Buck would never have gone to prison that first time.”

  “Prison can bring out the worst in a person.”

  To Jessy’s ears, Laredo’s remark sounded like a statement of fact, as if from personal knowledge. She was reminded of how little she knew about his past. Just for a moment she was curious, but she quickly shut the door on the questions, leaving the past in the past, fully aware that knowledge of it wouldn’t change anything.

  “Have you noticed how quiet it’s been?” Laredo asked.

  “Peacefully so,” Jessy agreed and let her glance wander over the isolated spot, hearing the soft murmur of a breeze through the grass. “The quiet
is something that always strikes me anytime I get away from the constant comings and goings at headquarters.”

  “That’s true, but I wasn’t referring to that kind of quiet,” Laredo said.

  Her sidelong glance was half amused and half puzzled. “Exactly what kind do you mean?”

  His shoulders moved in a vague shrug. “It just seems we’ve had a long spell without anyone causing trouble.”

  “Is that a complaint—or merely an observation?” During these years they had been together, Jessy had learned to trust his instincts. It made her wonder if he was sensing something now, enough that she couldn’t laugh off.

  “Not sure what it is,” Laredo admitted. “I just have this uneasy feeling I can’t explain.” With quicksilver swiftness, a lazy smile stripped the serious look from his face. “Probably nothing.”

  “Probably,” Jessy agreed, aware that she felt a new need for alertness.

  A slightly bored sigh came from Jake. “Okay, Grandma, where to next?”

  “I think it might be time we flew home. What do you think?”

  “Yes!” he cried with a fist pump for emphasis.

  In the Homestead’s kitchen, Cat gave the simmering cranberries a testing stir. Satisfied that they were thoroughly cooked, she picked up the sauce pan and started to pour them into a cut-glass serving bowl. With the first splash of the ruby-red fruit, the timer went off with a strident buzz.

  “The pies must be done,” she muttered, half in irritation.

  “I’ll take them out,” Sloan volunteered and retrieved a pair of oven mitts from the counter.

  “You are a jewel,” Cat declared in appreciation. “Do you realize that once those pies are out of the oven, we’re finished? The sauce is done, and all three casseroles are in the refrigerator, ready to be baked tomorrow. If you hadn’t pitched in to help, I would still be at it this afternoon.”

  “The thanks go to Jessy for taking Jake with her.” Sloan checked the centers of both pumpkin pies for doneness. “One of these might need another five minutes.”

  “That one pie tin was deeper than the other so I filled it fuller,” Cat recalled and set the empty saucepan in the sink. Before she could carry the bowl of cranberries to the refrigerator, the telephone rang. Aware that Sloan was in the midst of transferring a hot pie to its cooling rack, Cat said, “My hands are free. I’ll answer it.” She picked up the kitchen’s cordless extension. “Triple C ranch, the Calder residence.”

  “I’d like to speak to Chase Calder. Is he in?” The voice on the other end was a warm baritone, very male and very compelling.

  And not one Cat recognized, which only piqued her curiosity about its owner. “May I ask who’s calling?”

  “Wade Rogers.”

  The name wasn’t one she was familiar with either. To her regret he didn’t volunteer any further information. “Is this regarding business?” she guessed, certain a voice like that could sell anybody anything.

  There was a definite hesitation before he answered. “It’s personal,” he replied evenly, effectively blocking any further questions.

  “Just a moment, and I’ll see if he’s available.”

  “Thank you.”

  Keeping the telephone to her ear, Cat exited the kitchen and made her way to the den. Chase was behind the desk, rocked back in his chair and idly staring out the window.

  She paused in the doorway. “You have a phone call, Dad. A Mr. Wade Rogers.”

  “Rogers?” he repeated with a slight frown.

  “Yes. Wade Rogers. He said it was personal.”

  “Rogers.” This time the name was said with recognition. “Of course.” He rocked the chair forward and picked up the desk extension. “This is Chase Calder.”

  “Mr. Calder. This is Wade Rogers. I hope I’m not calling at a bad time.”

  “Not at all,” Chase assured him and slid a glance at Cat, who remained in the doorway, the kitchen extension still held to her ear. “You can hang up the extension now, Cat. And close the doors when you leave.”

  Startled by that unexpected request, Cat was slow to react. When Chase continued to look at her—without resuming his conversation with Wade Rogers, she belatedly punched the button, breaking the connection on her phone, and moved to close the den’s double doors.

  Chase nodded his thanks and said into the phone, “I just spoke to your father the other day. I’m glad to say he sounded well.”

  As she drew the doors together, the front door opened and the silence in the house was shattered by Jake’s voice shouting, “Mom! Mom, we’re back! Where are you?”

  Suddenly Chase’s request no longer seemed so unusual to Cat as she guessed that he had probably seen Jessy drive up out front and knew Jake would come bursting into the Homestead, shouting the news of his arrival. And lately Chase sometimes had difficulty hearing if there was too much background noise.

  With the doors closed, Cat crossed to the entry. “Your mother’s in the kitchen,” she told Jake as Jessy and Laredo walked in. “You’re back early. I thought you’d be longer at Wolf Meadow.”

  “It didn’t take as long as I thought either,” Jessy admitted and started across the hall. “Is Chase in the den?”

  “Yes, but he’s on the phone right now,” Cat replied, then added, “Somebody called Wade Rogers. Does that name mean anything to you?”

  “No, not really,” Jessy said with a small shake of her head. “Why?”

  “Just curious. I heard Dad telling him that he’d spoken to his father the other day, but I don’t remember anyone named Rogers.”

  “Chase has dealt with so many people over the years that you can’t expect to know them all. Some of them were bound to be before our time.” Jessy shrugged it off as unimportant.

  “True,” Cat conceded and let the subject drop. Yet it wasn’t as easy to block out the memory of that baritone voice. Its warm timbre lingered at the edge of her mind.

  “Something smells delicious.” Laredo sniffed the air. “You’ve been doing some baking while we were gone.”

  “A lot of it. And it’s all for Thanksgiving. No sampling before,” Cat warned.

  “You do have coffee made, I hope,” Laredo said, using the inflection of his voice to make it a question.

  “Always. In fact”—Cat hesitated, a thought forming—“I think I’ll see if Dad would like a cup. You two go help yourselves.” As they headed for the kitchen, Cat retraced her steps to the den, rapped lightly on the door, then pushed it open and poked her head inside.

  Chase looked up with a frown and cupped his hand over the phone’s mouthpiece. “What is it?”

  “Just checking to see if you’d like a cup of coffee.”

  “No, but I damned well would appreciate some privacy.”

  Stung by his abrupt response, Cat murmured a cool, “Fine.” And closed the door, muttering under her breath, “You old bear.”

  Chapter 3

  A platter of succulent turkey, roasted to perfection, made its way around the Thanksgiving table, with each spearing a thick slice for their plate—except for Jake, who claimed the drumstick. The yeasty aroma of freshly baked dinner rolls mingled with the sharp fragrance of sage dressing and the sweeter smell of candied sweet potatoes.

  Soon every plate was crowded with helpings from the green bean casserole, mashed potatoes and gravy, and tart red cranberry sauce. Only Chase and Jake restricted their portions to a small sampling of everything.

  Conversation during the first few bites centered around the food being consumed. Only after the edge was taken off their hunger did the table talk swing around to the usual topic of the ranch.

  Trey began it. “I keep thinking about this idea of yours, Mom, to bulldoze Tara’s place at Wolf Meadows—”

  Before he could finish his comment, Chase interrupted. “I think it’s the best damned suggestion for the place that I’ve heard.”

  “I don’t disagree with it,” Trey qualified. “But it’s going to take some organization to accomplish.”

&
nbsp; “Only until the house is leveled,” Chase reasoned. “Then we’re through with the place for good.”

  “True, but in the meantime, we’ll need to contact various auction houses and decide which one we want to use. Naturally the contents will have to be itemized, maybe even photographed.” He sent a quick glance at Sloan. “That’s something you could handle.”

  “Be glad to,” she agreed. “And I also have contacts at a couple auction houses. I could call them if you want.”

  “I, for one, would be grateful for any help you can give us,” Jessy stated. “Ranching, I know. But this—well, it’s out of my line.”

  “Which reminds me,” Sloan said. “We’ll need to choose a charity or charities that will benefit from the auction proceeds.”

  “That won’t be all that hard,” Trey said. “It’s the logistics of the whole thing that I keep thinking about. You do realize everything in that house has to be crated up and hauled out of there, don’t you?”

  “You’ve just identified your first priority,” Chase told him. “Putting in a road to it.”

  Trey answered with an agreeing nod. “We’ll start on it tomorrow. I think we’ve got an old culvert at South Branch. I’ll have it brought here to headquarters. Meanwhile Mike and I can put our heads together and figure out the best route to bridge that last mile.”

  “Once that road’s in, one of the first things I want you to do is dig up those graves. It’s time Buck and his father came home,” Chase stated.

  His announcement brought a moment of silence to the table. Cat broke it. “Are you sure that’s what you want, Dad?”

  He answered by saying, “Ruth would want her boy beside her.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do.” Jessy ended any further discussion of that issue.

  Chase made sure of it by changing the subject. “Have you talked to your mom about the toy drive for the Marines?”

  “Talked to her?” Jessy echoed his question on a laughing note. “I went over there to tell her about it and, almost before I had the words out of my mouth, she was on the phone calling other ranch wives. By now, she’s probably finalizing a list of toys to get and organizing a shopping trip.”