Calder Pride (Calder Saga 5)

“I stayed with them for a while this morning.”

Cat looked in the direction of their house. “I need to go see them.”

“Later,” her father stated.

Some distant part of her acknowledged that she was in no fit state to see them now. Without protest, Cat submitted to the guiding pressure of the hand that directed her toward the house. She never noticed when Jessy swung in behind to walk with Ty, each slipping an arm around the other, needing the reassurance of contact, with death striking so close.

It was a quiet group that entered the big house and walked directly to the sprawling living room. Chase paused beside his favorite armchair, his hand falling away from Cat’s arm.

“I think we could all use some coffee.” He leaned his cane against the chair.

“I’ll get it.” Jessy took a step toward the kitchen, then hesitated when Cat continued toward the oak staircase.

Chase noticed her movement as well. “Cat?” A look of concern darkened his eyes.

“I’m going to my room.” Her voice was flat, drained of all emotion.

As one they watched as she climbed the stairs, holding herself stiffly erect. Her pale cheeks glistened with the wetness of earlier tears, but her eyes were dry now.

When she was nearly to the top, Ty murmured to Jessy, “Maybe you should go with her.”

Jessy shook her head. “No. I think she would rather be alone right now.”

Jessy sensed Ty’s disagreement and understood its cause. For too long he had regarded his sister as headstrong and impetuous, on the irresponsible side, and more than a little spoiled by an adoring and indulgent father. He didn’t realize that, in addition to his mother’s beauty and capacity for sudden fury, Cat had also inherited a good deal of Calder steel and that unbendable iron pride of a Calder. And—like a Calder—she wanted to grieve in private.

“I’ll check on her later,” Chase said firmly, settling the matter.

The sound of an upstairs door closing broke the stillness that had held all three of them motionless. Chase lowered himself into the armchair while Jessy left to bring coffee. Sweeping off his hat, Ty dropped it on an end table and sank onto the couch.

“What about Rollie Anderson?” he asked. “Has he been arrested?”

“I was told charges would be filed as soon as he is sober enough to understand them.” A thread of anger edged the clipped reply. It was still there when his father continued, “I understand he has three previous drunk-driving convictions. With a manslaughter charge, it’s virtually guaranteed he’ll serve time.”

“That will make things rough on Neil Anderson and his wife,” Ty remarked idly. “Anderson is too old and too crippled with arthritis to keep the place going without help. And they can’t afford to pay a hired hand.”

The Andersons owned a small farm along the eastern boundary of the Triple C. Most of the time they had barely eked out a living. Rollie Anderson was the youngest of three sons, and the only one still living at home.

“If Anderson is smart, he’ll sell the place and retire,” Chase stated as Jessy returned to the living room with the coffee.

“Who should retire?”

She set a mug of steaming coffee on the table next to Chase.

“Neil Anderson,” Ty answered. “We were just saying it would be best if he sold his farm.”

“I wouldn’t count on that happening any time soon. That farm means as much to Neil Anderson as the Triple C does to you.” As always, Jessy spoke with a man’s directness. “He will hang onto it until his last dying breath.”

“I have no doubt he will try,” Chase agreed as Jessy handed a mug to Ty, then sat on the couch next to him, their legs touching.

“Which brings me to something else I wanted to talk to you about, Ty.” Her hand slid onto his knee in easy possession. “Under the circumstances, I think we should postpone our wedding until next week.”

“What do you mean—postpone it? Why?” Ty challenged her.

“Because I don’t think it would be right for us to get married so soon after Repp’s funeral.”

“It wouldn’t be right if we were having some lavish wedding with acres of guests, but it’s only going to be your family and mi—” Ty broke off in mid-word. “Cat,” he said in understanding. “From the moment I picked her up at the airport in Helena, she was full of plans to turn our wedding into a double ceremony.” He covered Jessy’s hand with his. “You’re right. We’ll wait a week, but no longer than that.”

“No longer.” Her slow smile of agreement tunneled into him, touching all the soft places. Ty never ceased to be amazed by the warm ease he felt with Jessy, an ease that produced its own kind of heady glow. This was love, strong, steady, and certain.