Calder Storm (11 page)

His warm and ready approval had a steadying effect on Sloan. Although Laredo Smith claimed to be nothing more than an ordinary ranch hand, it was obvious to Sloan that the Calder family considered him to be much more than that. On various occasions, she'd sensed that there was no one the family trusted and respected more than this man.

“Thank you, but I'm the one who feels lucky,” she told him, then noticed Trey's mother waiting to take his place.

As always, Jessy Calder conveyed a quiet strength and calm composure. The effect was softened now by the warm light in her eyes and the faint curve to her wide lips. Sloan searched, but she could detect no sign of falseness. Still the tension remained.

“Mrs. Calder,” she murmured awkwardly, unconsciously reverting to a more formal address, mostly as a kind of self-defense, “I know this probably seems very sudden to you.”

Jessy shook her head in silent denial. “Trey has always known exactly what he wanted ever since he was a little boy. I learned very quickly that he knew his own mind—and his own heart. Others have sometimes thought he acts rashly, but I've always known better. Welcome to the family, Sloan.” She brushed a kiss on her cheek.

Sloan never had a chance to hear what Jessy said to Trey as Cat came up and gave her a hug. “I'm so happy for you both,” she declared with her usual exuberance. “Let me see your ring. What kind did he get you?” Obligingly, Sloan raised her hand to show Cat. “A solitaire. How perfect. It looks almost exactly like the one my mother wore.”

“It is your mother's,” Sloan admitted.

Surprise rounded her green eyes. “How—? When—?” Cat abandoned both questions and turned to look at Chase. “When did you give mother's ring to Trey?”

“Sometime before supper,” he replied.

“You mean you knew Trey was going to propose to her tonight, and you never said a word to any of us about it?” Cat accused.

“That's right.” He waved a finger in Sloan's direction. “I thought the young lady had the right to give him her answer before I said anything. It would please your mother to know another Calder bride is wearing it.”

“You're right, of course.” Cat sighed and smiled wryly at Sloan. “You'll discover for yourself that he usually is.”

“You don't mind, then?” Sloan uneasily fingered the ring.

“Of course not,” Cat assured her. “It was just the surprise of seeing it.”

“This calls for a drink, doesn't it?” Chase challenged and waved to Laredo. “Roll that liquor cart in here so we can have a toast to this couple.”

Drinks were poured, glasses were raised, and toasts were offered with the usual mix of teasing and laughter. But it wasn't long before Trey stole Sloan away again to go for that walk they'd never gotten around to taking.

After their departure, Chase called it a night and headed to his ground-floor bedroom in The Homestead's west wing. Laredo trailed after Jessy and Cat when they carried the drink glasses to the kitchen.

“Another wedding.” Cat shook her head in amazement. “Do you realize that this will make three at The Homestead in less than a year? It has to be a record.”

“At least you've had plenty of experience planning them.” Laredo leaned sideways against the counter, watching the two women at the sink.

“That's true.” Cat slipped the stopper in the drain and turned on the faucets while Jessy emptied the glasses of their ice and liq
uid in the companion sink. “I do hope some of Sloan's friends can come. She doesn't have any relatives. It would be awful for her if we were the only ones at the ceremony.”

“I imagine that's why she wants to keep it small and simple,” Jessy inserted.

“I suppose so.” Cat then added thoughtfully, “She's a very private person, isn't she? I don't think I've ever met anyone who talked less about herself. Oh, she talks about her work and the places she's traveled, but little about her personal life.”

“Maybe that's it,” Laredo suggested.

“What is?” Cat frowned, not following his meaning.

“Work takes up the bulk of her life,” he replied and slid a pointed look at Jessy. “Like someone else I know.”

Grinning, Cat eyed her sister-in-law with amusement, but Jessy took no notice of either of them. “Do you get the feeling she's not listening to us?”

“I do.” Laredo nodded, then reached out and gave Jessy a light poke in the arm. “Hey, where'd you go?”

“What?” She looked up with a slight start, before slipping the last dirty glass into the dishwater. “Sorry. I was thinking.”

“We noticed,” Laredo said in dry amusement. “Care to share it with us? You looked like you were miles away.”

“I suppose I was, in a sense,” Jessy admitted. “I was remembering Trey telling us about that calf that was stuck in the mud at the Broken Butte range. I thought I'd better head over there tomorrow and check it out for myself. If the water in the creek has gotten low enough to create mud bogs, we probably need to move those cattle to another range.”

With eyebrows raised, Cat sighed and looked at Laredo. “Cattle. We should have known it had something to do with the ranch.”

“Tell you what,” Laredo straightened away from the counter and took Jessy's arm, drawing her away from the sink, “why don't you let Cat wash these few glasses and walk me to my pickup?”

“You don't have to leave right now, do you?” Jessy said in mild protest.

“It's a long drive to the Boar's Nest,” he reminded her referring to the old line shack that he had converted to a snug cabin years ago.

“Go on, Jessy,” Cat urged. “You two rarely have the chance to spend any time together. Don't waste it when you do.”

Advice from a woman who had recently lost her own husband was too wise to ignore. Jessy smiled her thanks and walked with Laredo out the back door.

Night and its shadows enveloped them as they descended the steps, arms brushing. There was an invigorating coolness to the air that sharpened the senses. When Laredo hooked an arm around her shoulders at the bottom of the steps, Jessy automatically slid hers around the back of his waist.

“How does it feel knowing that soon both your children will be married?” His eyes were warm and curious in their study of her.

“It's the way of things.” A small shrugging motion accompanied her statement. “Children grow up, get married, and make a life for themselves. I'm just glad Trey won't be moving away.”

“Something tells me it won't be long before there'll be little ones running around here calling you Grandma.” The chrome bumper on his truck gleamed silver in the moonlight.

“Probably.” She smiled at the thought. “I think Sloan will make a good mother. She seems to be a caring person, intelligent and level-headed.”

“Want'a bet Trey isn't counting up her good qualities? He probably couldn't even name them without giving it some thought first. He just knows he loves her. And when you get right down to it, that's all that matters.”

“I know.” Jessy noticed with regret that they had arrived at the pickup's door. “You know there's really no reason you have to live at the Boar's Nest. The Atkins' house has been sitting empty since Ruth died. You could move there.”

“I suppose I could.” Laredo made a lazy turn to face her, his arms forming a loose circle around her. “It's for sure it would be within walking distance of The Homestead. But there's too many
neighbors living too close, whereas the Boar's Nest gives me privacy, and I like that, especially when a certain someone pays me a call,” he added with a wink.

Tipping her head back, she laughed softly in her throat. “Everyone on this ranch knows we're seeing each other. They have for years.”

“I don't care that they know. I just don't want their imagination working overtime just because they live next door. Me loving you might not be a secret, but I'm damned sure going to see that it stays private.”

“You have a point there,” Jessy conceded. “Right now they spend most of their time trying to figure out why you haven't made an honest woman out of me. I understand there's been some wild speculation about that.”

“Let them wonder all they want—just as long as you don't.” This time there was no smile, just an earnest need to know that she understood.

“I don't.” Long ago Jessy had learned to embrace the good things life gave her and never cry because there wasn't more.

From the very beginning, she had known Laredo would never marry her. His reason lay somewhere in his past. What it was, she had never asked, although she suspected Chase knew, and possibly Cat's husband, Logan, had learned of it, too. Whatever it was, it hadn't mattered to them, and it didn't matter to her.

“So what are the chances of you spending Saturday night at my little hideaway in the hills?” Laredo wanted to know. “It would do you good to get away from the phones and the pressure, and just be a woman.”

“Sounds good.” But Jessy knew it would depend on whether she decided to move the cattle off the Broken Butte range. But she didn't say that. She was too busy enjoying the very thorough and satisfying kiss Laredo gave her with a promise of more to come.

P
alm trees towered over the beach house, their fronds dipping and swaying with the strong breeze that came off the ocean. The taxi followed the curving driveway to the front door and stopped there. The driver, of Polynesian descent and dressed in a colorful Hawaiian shirt, immediately hopped out of the cab and opened the rear passenger door for Sloan.

Smiling her thanks, Sloan hooked the strap of the leather case over her shoulder and stepped out of the vehicle, too weary from the long flight and time change to notice the tropical warmth and the air's fresh tang. The strap slipped slightly when she stood up. As she reached to adjust it, the single-carat diamond on her ring finger flashed in the sunlight. There was a newness to the weight of it—and to the heady joy she felt. Some of the tiredness fell away at the remembrance of them.

The driver retrieved her bag from the trunk of the taxi and carried it to the front door. Sloan followed and handed him the fare along with a sizable tip.

“
Mahalo
,” he said, using the Hawaiian word for thank you.

“
Mahalo,
” Sloan echoed.

Stepping to the door, she took out her house key and inserted it
in the lock. As she pushed the door open, she was greeted by the ring of the telephone. She ignored it long enough to set her bag inside and lock the door behind her, then hurried to pick up the living room extension.

Using both hands, she carried the receiver to her ear, the anticipation of hearing Trey's voice bringing a smile to her lips. “Hello.”

But the male voice on the other end of the line didn't belong to Trey. “Sloan. This is a surprise. I expected to talk to that answering machine of yours.”

The hint of a drawl mixed with the gruffness was instantly familiar to Sloan. “Uncle Max. You are lucky. I just this minute walked in.”

“I figured it was something like that.”

“What do you need?” Sloan asked, unable to remember a time when her former guardian had ever phoned merely to chat.

“It's time to update the proxy you gave me for your stock. A new form's in the mail. You just need to sign it and send it back, but remember to have a notary witness your signature. That's assuming, of course, that you still want me to vote your shares?”

“You know I do. I don't know why you bother to ask.”

The stuffiness of a house that had been closed up for days made its impression on her. Taking the cordless phone with her, Sloan walked over to the double set of French doors that opened onto the lanai and cradled the phone against her neck while she unlocked them and swung them wide. A breeze swept in, bringing with it the soothing rush of the surf as it tumbled onto the rock-and-sand beach beyond the house.

“Did you send that regular mail?” she asked, but never gave him a chance to answer. “What am I saying? You always express everything you send me.”

“You're damned right. I'm not about to risk it ending up on some freighter. For the life of me, I'll never understand why you didn't settle somewhere here in the States instead of out there in middle of the Pacific Ocean.”

“I am living in the States, it just happens to be the state of Hawaii,” she countered smoothly.

“You know damned well what I meant, but that's old ground,” he said, dismissing the subject. “So, how soon are you leaving again?”

“Probably in a week or two. It depends on how long it takes me to wrap up a few things here.” Sloan wandered onto the lanai and gazed at the blue ocean, amused to find it reminded her of the rolling grassland of the Triple C.

“Where are you off to this time?” he wondered.

“To the wilds of Montana.” Absently, she rubbed her thumb over the underside of her diamond ring. “By the way, congratulations are in order, Uncle Max. I've gotten myself engaged.”

“Since when?” came the quick demand.

“Since yesterday.” She could almost see the scowl on his face.

“To whom? One of your photographer friends? Really, Sloan,” he began, disapproval thick in his voice.

Sloan never gave him a chance to finish. “I'm going to marry Trey Calder. In fact, I just got back from spending a week at his family's ranch in Montana. So I don't think you have to worry that I picked someone who's only interested in getting his hands on my inheritance.” For a long run of seconds there was dead silence on the other end of the line. “Uncle Max, are you still there?” Sloan frowned in uncertainty.

“I'm here—just speechless.” There was a flatness to his tone, as if all emotion had been pressed out of it. “I guess I wasn't aware you even knew the Calders.”

“I didn't. At least, not before this past weekend.” Aware that nothing less than a full explanation would satisfy him, Sloan supplied the details. “I had to go to Miles City to photograph their rodeo for the Berringer book. That's where I met Trey. After that, it was one of those proverbial whirlwind courtships. And here I am, engaged to be married.”

“You sound happy,” he observed.

“I am.” She was definite about that.

“Then I'm happy for you. Have you set a wedding date?”

“Not yet. It will be soon, though, probably the end of next month. But it won't be anything big and lavish, just a quiet ceremony there at the ranch with a few family and friends. Naturally you're invited.”

“Unfortunately, I doubt that I can make it. I have a trip scheduled out of the country that I can't postpone, but I'll be there in spirit.”

“I understand.” Sloan was neither surprised nor disappointed. Since his wife Barbara had died, Max hadn't attended a single one of her functions. She hadn't expected her wedding to be an exception, yet courtesy dictated that she invite him.

“How much have you told him about yourself?”

She smiled in amusement. “You make it sound like there's something to tell.”

“I was thinking in terms of your inheritance.”

“There wasn't any reason to discuss it. I think I mentioned that a trust had been established after my parents died, but that was about it. We certainly never sat around comparing portfolios, if that's what you're wondering.” Which, Sloan suspected, he was. With Max, everything was always about business and making money. Those were the only two subjects that interested him.

“I don't suppose you would,” he admitted, but in a distracted way. “This probably isn't the time to bring this up, but in your father's stead, I feel duty bound to insist that there be a prenuptial agreement signed, one that would protect your separate properties. I'm sure the Calders would be in favor of that. I understand it's become very common these days to have one. After all, no one ever enters into a marriage thinking it will end in divorce, but statistics tell you otherwise. That's why it's important for you to make sure your inheritance never gets tied up in some bitter property dispute.”

In her heart, Sloan resented the idea of a prenuptial agreement, but her mind argued that it was unquestionably the sensible thing to do. “Is that something Cal Hensley can handle?” she asked.

“If not, there'll be someone in his firm who can.”

“I'll call him first thing in the morning,” she promised.

“Do that. Because if you truly intend to get married within a month, this isn't something you want to leave to the last minute.”

“I recognize that.”

“But you don't like it. I can hear it in your voice. I suppose I sound like a heartless old bastard to you. Here you are all excited about getting married, and I'm talking about protecting your money. But your father left you a lot of it. You've always tried to ignore that, but the fact remains that you're a very wealthy woman in your own right.”

“You never let me forget it, Uncle Max,” Sloan replied without rancor. “And I promise I'll phone in the morning.”

“You're telling me to shut up, aren't you?”

She laughed, low and throaty. “Yes.”

“Let me just add that you've made a good match. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

“Just the same, I'll be calling you every week until I hear that you've got that prenup signed.”

“I'll tell Cal to run it past you before he sends it to me.”

“Good idea.” With that, Max said his good-byes and hung up the phone.

 

Night's shadows pressed against the windows of the Slash R ranch house, turning their glass panes into mirrors that cast dark reflections of the room's Texas-chic furnishings. But Max took no notice of them, his back to the windows, his brow furrowed in hard thought.

He never glanced up when Harold Bennett, his valet and personal nurse, paused beside the desk and placed a glass of bourbon and water in front of him. “Did I hear correctly, sir?” Harold asked, as always careful to keep the appropriate degree of respect in his voice. “Is Sloan getting married?”

Hard eyes shot him a brief look. “She's engaged. It remains to be seen whether she actually marries.”

The statement rang of portent, too much for Harold to ignore. Hesitating, he frowned in question. “Sir?”

For a moment he thought no explanation would be forthcoming as Max picked up the drink and swirled the ice in the glass. “She's engaged to Trey Calder. Ironic, isn't it?” His mouth twisted with black humor.

“Very,” Harold said, too stunned to do anything but agree. “What are you going to do, sir?”

“Let things play themselves out, of course.” Amusement gleamed coldly in his eyes. “See whether it becomes necessary to send an expensive wedding present.”

“Of course,” the valet murmured, confused by his employer's apparent acceptance of the idea.

“That'll be all for now, Bennett.” Max dismissed him with a waving flick of his fingers. “I'll call you when I'm ready to retire.”

Harold nodded an acknowledgment and withdrew from the room. But this was one time when he wished he could crawl into his employer's mind and see how that crafty intellect worked. He knew it would be a thing to behold.

 

Thunderheads made a dark blotch against the southern horizon. Observing them, Laredo noted that if anything, their line was narrowing. It was raining somewhere, though not on Calder land.

His attention shifted back to the short, thick branch in his hand, already partially stripped of its bark. With another stroke of the knife, Laredo sliced away more of it as he sat on the veranda's edge, his feet dangling over it and one shoulder negligently propped against a pillar.

When the front door opened, he glanced around, expecting to see Trey, but it was Chase who emerged from The Homestead, his cane thumping on the veranda's wooden deck. As usual, Cat was not far behind him, carrying a tray with two mugs and an insulated coffeepot on it.

Chase halted at the sight of Laredo. “What are you doing out here?”

“Waiting for Trey.” Another stroke of the knife blade sent a sliver of bark and wood arcing to the ground.

“Where is he?” Chase directed the demand at Cat.

“In the den, talking to Sloan.” She carried the tray to the wooden table that sat between the pair of tall ladder-backed rocking chairs.

“He's still on the phone with her?” Chase frowned. “It's been a good hour since she called. Don't those two know it's long-distance.”

“They have a lot to talk about, Dad.”

Chase harrumphed at that statement. “They should talk faster, then.” He shuffled over to the nearest rocker, the cane striking the floor slightly ahead of him with each swing. The moment he settled himself into the rocker, Cat moved toward the door. “Where are you going? You said you were going to sit and have a cup of coffee with me.”

“I'm coming back,” she assured him. “I'm just going to get an extra cup for Laredo and get that list I was working on.”

“What list?”

“The invitation list for Trey's wedding,” Cat answered patiently. “He asked me to make one for him.”

“Invitations? What do you need those for?” Chase demanded. “I thought they were having a small wedding, just family and some of her friends.”

“The actual ceremony itself will be small, but there will be a reception afterwards. Everyone on the ranch will expect to come. And there's all our friends and neighbors,” she reasoned. “Wedding announcements have to be sent, or people will feel slighted.”

“I'll tell you one thing, we never went to all this fuss and bother back in my day,” Chase declared with a decisive nod of his head. “People got married and that was the end of it.”

“That's not true, and you know it,” Cat corrected him. “Weddings have always been social occasions—a time when family and friends gather to wish the new couple well. Heaven knows, we have few enough reasons for everyone to get together out here. And I
can't think of a better excuse for a party than your grandson's wedding.”