Santa In Montana

by Janet Dailey

  “Laredo said something about picking up the mail for the West Camp. I’m guessing that means the commissary serves as a post office, too.”

  “Yes, although unofficially.”

  Before Cat could explain her comment, Wade spoke. “Let me guess. The Triple C covers too many square miles for rural mail delivery to reach all of its corners, so the commissary is the clearing house for all personal mail that comes to its employees and their families.”

  “That’s exactly right,” Cat admitted.

  “So what’s this? Are you about to add a toy section for Christmas?” Wade motioned at the variety of toy items stacked high in a corner, some still in their original boxes.

  “It looks like it, doesn’t it?” she agreed on a laughing note. “Actually those are all donations for the Marines’ toy drive. I think I heard Jessy say that they’re scheduled to be loaded up tomorrow morning and delivered to the designated drop-off point.”

  “That’s quite a haul.”

  “There wasn’t a single person on the ranch who didn’t contribute something toward it.” Cat resumed her path to the powdered sugar.

  “Full participation. That’s really remarkable.”

  “I guess it is, but I learned long ago that cowboys have the biggest hearts.”

  “They certainly do on the Triple C.” Wade paused next to her while she gathered up the largest sized bag of powdered sugar.

  “So how do you usually spend the Christmas holidays?” Cat sent him a curious glance as she moved toward the back of the store and its counter area.

  “It depends on where I am and what I might be in the middle of, although I always make a point to spend at least a couple days with my dad. Like Chase, he’s up there in age so I can never be sure how many more Christmases I’ll have with him.”

  “I know that feeling.” And it warmed her to know that they had something in common.

  “What made you ask?”

  “Just curious,” Cat answered with an idle shrug. “Some people like to laze on a tropical beach and others go skiing for the holidays. Me, I’m with the group that likes to stay home and spend Christmas with the family—and enjoy all the old traditions that go with it.”

  “Like iced Christmas cookies.” He nodded in the direction of the powdered sugar she carried and flashed her a smile that carved those sexy grooves in his cheeks.

  She laughed and admitted, “Cookies, caroling, and children’s Christmas programs—the whole nine yards. Best of all, this year the house will be full of family. Jessy’s daughter Laura and her husband are coming from England, and my son Quint is flying in from Texas with his wife and my new grandson. It will be the first time we’ve all been together in several years.”

  “Sounds fun,” Wade remarked. “I guess that’s one of the advantages of having a fairly large extended family. I didn’t have the good fortune to be blessed with one.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Cat spotted a new display of housewares and stopped to look, picking up a silicone rubber muffin pan. She read the label and tested its flexibility by bending it, balancing the bag of powdered sugar in the crook of her arm.

  “What’s that?” Wade asked.

  “A muffin pan. They’re supposed to pop right out.”

  He watched her for a moment until she put it back on the shelf and picked up a loaf pan, twisting that.

  “I’ll leave you to it,” he said wryly. “And I’ll go pick up some packaged snacks for the drive to the airport.”

  Wade wandered off and Cat took advantage of the opportunity to examine the pans more closely, aware that she could use some new baking pans at the Homestead, especially with Christmas coming on.

  Turning away from them, Cat mentally made a note to check which pans at the house needed to be replaced or supplemented. Absently she glanced up the aisle to the rear counter where the checkout was. As usual, Nancy Taylor was at the register. Nearing fifty and still sandy-haired, Nancy didn’t fuss much with makeup or clothes, satisfied with lipstick and a simple combination of blouse and jeans.

  Nancy’s expression suddenly brightened with curiosity. Cat quickly realized that the object of her interest was Wade making his approach to the register.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I’m getting these.” He set a handful of snacks in bright foil on the counter.

  “Is there anything else you need today?”

  “Don’t think so.” He glanced around as Cat joined him. “You ready too?”

  “Yes.” Cat felt the full force of Nancy’s curiosity directed at her, as the other woman speculated on the connection between her and Wade.

  “Hi, Nancy,” Cat said, irritated by the touch of embarrassment she felt. “This is Wade Rogers. Wade, Nancy Taylor.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Rogers.” She nodded to him, then noted the price of the sugar and bagged it for Cat.

  “The Rogers folks are old family friends of Chase’s,” Cat stated, then hesitated, looking at Wade, hoping he would offer a further explanation.

  “Oh, we go back years,” Wade said vaguely.

  “Isn’t that nice.” Nancy’s tone was courteous but she seemed a little disappointed and Cat secretly didn’t blame her for that. Wade Rogers was too attractive to fit the tame label of “family friend.”

  The other woman handed Cat a pen and a receipt for the sugar. “Please sign here.”

  “Thanks, Nancy.” Cat jotted her name and they left.

  Going out the door of the commissary, she turned to Wade. “Brace yourself. The ranch telegraph will be clattering big time.”

  “Because you bought five pounds of sugar?”

  “No. Because I came in here with you. Around here, that counts as news.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  “Everyone will want to know who you are and what you’re doing here, so you’re liable to field a few questions.” Cat sighed. “As will I.”

  Wade studied her with a sidelong glance. “Guess you don’t do much dating, Cat.” Startled, she lifted her head. He read the unvoiced question in her look and explained, “If you did, Nancy wouldn’t have been so surprised to see you with a man.”

  Cat felt a little uncomfortable. “You’re right.” They were well away from the commissary by now, starting home across the expanse of the ranch yard. “Are you always so quick to read situations?”

  “Oh, I’ve had a fair amount of practice. In my line of work, it’s an essential skill.”

  “I imagine that’s true,” Cat replied.

  They walked in companionable silence for a little while, Wade lifting his head to look up at the Homestead in the near distance, pillared and impressive.

  “So, is it by choice?” Wade asked her.

  Cat looked at him in confusion. “What?”

  “That you don’t date. Or date rarely. Whichever applies.”

  She really didn’t want to answer that truthfully, but she did, her voice low. “By choice, I suppose. Although there is a definite shortage of eligible candidates.”

  “Especially ones brave enough to ask a Calder out.”

  Cat laughed. “You’re underestimating the men who live in this wide-open land. Very little ever intimidates them.” Pausing, Cat shook her head with wry amusement. “How did we get on this subject again?”

  “Maybe because we’re both wondering about it.” Wade paused. “At least I am. I think you feel a similar attraction. If I’m wrong, just say so.” He cocked his head. “Am I rushing things?”

  “A little,” Cat replied. “But I don’t mind.”

  His expression turned rueful. “This whole dating scene baffles me. Things have changed so much. I feel awkward as hell. Like I lost whatever technique I might have had somewhere along the way.”

  The open confession disarmed her. “I know the feeling. I take it you haven’t dated much either.” She left the subject of the loss of his wife alone.

  “No,” Wade said. “I barely knew where to start. A couple of friends offered to fix me
up, but I figured if I didn’t click with someone they thought would be perfect for me, my friends would get insulted. So that wasn’t an option. Then I looked into those online match-ups—” He shook his head with a grimace. “Not for me. How about you?” adding quickly, “if you don’t mind my asking.”

  Cat laughed. “It’s okay. I did the same thing one night when I was feeling lonesome.”

  “And?”

  “I checked out the eligible men in my age range, but I didn’t post a photo or profile.”

  “Maybe that’s why I didn’t find you,” he teased.

  “No. I quit looking before I signed up. Between grown men who posted their prom pictures from when they still had hair and all the oddballs who described themselves as ‘fun,’ I just wasn’t interested.”

  He grinned. “Good.”

  “Besides that, it just seemed too strange to contact people I didn’t know.”

  “I hear you. That’s why I stuck with the old-fashioned methods. You know, strike up a conversation, get to know someone, take her out—” He smiled wryly but she felt a tiny flicker of jealousy.

  Wade didn’t seem to notice her lack of a reply. “I wouldn’t say every date was an unqualified disaster, but there was no chemistry. Maybe I’ve been on the shelf too long.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Thanks. Nice of you to say so.” He gave her a warm look that made her pulse flutter. “Anyway, I just stopped looking. I guess I realized that I was doing it for all the wrong reasons. Maybe because I felt obligated to respond to invitations or because I was trying to get on with the business of living.”

  Cat could sympathize. “That’s not easy after you lose someone you love.”

  His gaze became faraway and she regretted her comment, until he turned his focus back to her. “You know something? Right now if I didn’t have to leave immediately after I speak with Chase, I’d be asking you to have dinner with me.”

  “And if you weren’t leaving, I’d say yes.” She drew in a breath, feeling like her old self again. A little headstrong. A lot flirty.

  Wade looked at her intently. “Maybe you could give me a raincheck.”

  “Of course.”

  “It will be at least a week before I make it back, though,” he warned.

  “Fine. We can figure out the details then.” She was feeling bolder by the minute.

  “Not here at the ranch, though,” Wade specified. “Somewhere else.”

  “The restaurant in Blue Moon is open again. That’s the closest place to headquarters.”

  “That should work. Though I can’t say I know where Blue Moon is.”

  “About an hour from here,” Cat said. “Nothing up to D.C. standards, but I hear the food is good.”

  “That suits me.”

  A pickup truck honked behind them, the loudness and closeness of it startling Cat. She turned as it pulled up alongside them.

  Laredo lowered the window and let the engine idle, leaning out to talk to Cat. “Thought I’d better tell you, Chase just called Jessy, wanting to know where you were, Cat.”

  “We’re on our way to the house now.”

  “No need to call him back then.” Laredo shifted out of park.

  “No.” She smiled and waved a good-bye. “Thanks, Laredo.”

  Cat started forward again with Wade at her side. They reached the porch as the pickup truck accelerated onto the main road of the ranch. At the front door, Wade reached around her to open it, then followed her inside. A second later Cat heard the familiar clump of Chase’s cane.

  He stopped, standing just outside his den. She couldn’t quite decide if he was annoyed with her or not. His expression was impassive.

  “Did you just get here?” he asked Wade.

  The other man nodded. “I arrived a little less than an hour ago.”

  “I suppose you told him I was taking a nap,” he said to Cat.

  “I certainly did. It was the truth. I had to make a quick trip to the commissary for some powdered sugar and—”

  Wade interrupted her. “I invited myself along.”

  Chase gave a thump of his cane as he turned. “After you put that sugar away, you can bring us some coffee, Cat.”

  She didn’t mind his peremptory tone. Cat walked on air all the way to the kitchen, thinking about the evening she would be spending with Wade.

  One week to wait. Already it seemed too far away.

  Chapter 5

  Sloan’s trip to Wolf Meadow turned into a quick one. It was only mid-afternoon when she made it back to the ranch headquarters. Certain that Trey would appreciate a break from looking after Jake, she went in search of the pair. She finally found them in one of the machine sheds, taking apart a tractor motor. Trey was doing the greasy work, while Jake watched from the sidelines, clearly fascinated.

  “Hi, Mom!” He jumped down from the metal footstool he’d been given to stand on.

  “Hi, honey.” She gave him a kiss and blew one to Trey, who was up to his elbows in black lube. He acknowledged the greeting with a lift of one greasy hand.

  “Care to help?” he asked.

  “No thanks. You’re getting dirty enough for both of us.” She ruffled her son’s hair. “Having fun?”

  “Yeah. Motors are cool. Dad was going to let me put part of it together.”

  “Aha. Then I’m just in time.”

  “Not from a little boy’s point of view.” Trey chuckled. “His hands are still clean.”

  “Let’s keep it that way,” Sloan stated, ignoring Jake’s protest. Still he let her lead him away from the tractor without kicking up too much of a fuss. “See you later, Trey.”

  Absorbed in what he was doing, Trey nodded. “Sure thing.”

  Jake didn’t stop talking during the short drive back to the house.

  “Mommy, do you know what?” She didn’t have to ask for the answer he supplied instantly. “I got to line up all the screws and count them. Dad said I got it different every time. Is that good or bad?”

  Sloan laughed. “You’ll have to ask your dad, but I’m glad you got to practice your numbers. Keep at it.”

  “I will. And then you know what?” Again he answered his own question. “Ralph gave me a big box of nails to sort by size. I put ’em in old jelly jars for him. Ralph sure has a lot of jelly jars. And a lot of nails, too.”

  “I’ll bet he does. And I’ll bet he was glad you helped him.”

  “Yeah,” he said with satisfaction.

  They pulled up in front of the house and parked by a car she didn’t recognize, not noticing the rental agency sticker on the back bumper. Jake scrambled out and got down himself without waiting for his mother.

  “Not so fast, young man.” She got out and ran around the car to catch him by the wrist. “I think you’re forgetting something you promised to do.”

  “What?” he asked innocently.

  “As if you didn’t know.” They walked hand in hand to the porch steps. One of Jake’s sneaker laces had come untied but she wanted to get him inside the house first. “You have to rehearse for the Christmas play.”

  “Aw, Mom. I don’t want to.”

  “That’s not the issue. Everybody else in the Christmas play has to practice their parts, too.”

  “But it’s a nice day,” he said vehemently, as if that clinched the argument.

  “It certainly is. In fact, it’s a perfect day to rehearse a Christmas play.”

  “Aw, Mom,” he grumbled, then sighed theatrically. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

  “You don’t have to act like you’re doing me a big favor. When you commit to something like a play, you have to follow through. Remember, other children are depending on you. What if you stood up there and forgot your lines?”

  “I’d make something up,” he said confidently.

  “That’s not how it works—hey! Come back here!”

  But he’d pried his hand loose and gone running in the direction of his great-grandfather’s study. “I just remembered something I
have to tell Greypa!”

  “Jake—” Sloan stopped, her hands on her hips, looking after him with exasperation as he tugged open a door to the den and plunged inside. Hearing male voices from inside the room, she suddenly remembered the unfamiliar car outside and realized Chase had a visitor. On the heels of that, Sloan recalled Cat mentioning Wade Rogers intended to come back this week. Doubting that Jake’s intrusion was all that welcome, she walked to the den to collect her wayward son. Sloan poked her head inside the room. A quick glance failed to spot him. “Anyone seen Jake?”

  “He’s right here,” Chase answered.

  Her son popped up from the far side of the desk like a jack-in-the-box. “I was hiding,” he said mischievously.

  “Now that you’ve been found, let’s go practice your lines.” Sloan motioned for him to join her.

  “But—” he began in protest.

  “That’s enough of that. Run along like your mother said,” Chase told Jake.

  The little boy stood where he was on the other side of his great-grandfather’s desk, playing with a pen he took from it. “Do I have to?”

  “Yes. And you’re interrupting,” Chase said firmly. “That’s not allowed.” His glare was enough to take the steam out of Jake, who didn’t argue as he handed back the pen and walked, crestfallen, to his waiting mother.

  Sloan took his hand and turned around, reproving Jake in a low voice as they moved into the hall. He tripped over his untied sneaker lace. Halting, she knelt down and retied it, making sure it was double-knotted. “Shh. Greypa has work to do.”

  For a wonder, the little boy was completely quiet.

  When she rose, a movement within the den caught her eye. Chase was handing Wade a piece of paper; it appeared to be the same size and shape as a bank check. Unwilling to give the appearance of prying, Sloan led Jake away from the den doors. Again he jerked his hand from her grasp and darted back to the den.

  Sloan swore under her breath, took two steps at a time and reached the open door just in time to hear Chase say, “So you’re set. There’s more when you need it, of course. But this should smooth the way for you initially.”

  Jake was trying to hide behind the door where no one could see him. She uncurled his fingers from the doorknob and began to close it, saying in an almost inaudible voice that was more like a hiss, “You heard me. I said your great-grandpa is busy!”