Santa In Montana (Calder Saga 11)

“I’d welcome the company.”

Cat had the impression he meant it, and the feeling smoothed away much of her uncertainty. He stood by while she pulled on her snow boots, then stepped forward to help her on with her winter coat. She murmured a “thanks.” He acknowledged it with a nod, then opened the front door for her and followed her outside.

As they started down the porch steps, he said, “I’m guessing this commissary you mentioned and the ranch store my father told me about are one and the same thing.”

“I’m sure they are,” Cat confirmed. “We always keep it well stocked with basics as well as an assortment of other things.

“The Triple C prides itself on being self-sufficient. In its early days—before the advent of the automobile—it had to be. Now the commissary is more of a convenience.”

“Sounds interesting. I think I’ll come inside with you and check it out.”

Cat tried not to let it show how pleased she was with his decision. As they angled across the ranch yard toward the store, she pointed out various buildings that comprised the Triple C headquarters, identifying everything from the structure housing the ranch offices, to the medical dispensary staffed by a registered nurse, and the fire station. Yet she never lost her awareness of him. If anything it was intensified by the occasional brush of his arm against hers. She tried to recall the last time she had walked side by side with a male who wasn’t either a relative or a ranch hand, but she couldn’t think of one. Not since Logan died.

“When an average Joe like me thinks of a ranch, the word conjures up images of barns and sheds, a bunkhouse, maybe even a cookshack,” Wade remarked. “You have all those and more. You meant it when you talked about the ranch being self-sufficient.”

“It

’s a necessity,” Cat reminded him. “Outside help can be hours away.”

Together they paused while a pickup bearing the ranch insignia pulled away from the gas pumps located outside the commissary. When it cleared their path to the door, they started forward again.

“I can see that now,” Wade agreed and reached ahead of her to open the door. “But it’s a hard concept to wrap your mind around until you are actually here.”

“That’s what everybody says.” Smiling, Cat walked into the store and nearly ran straight into Laredo, who was on his way out. Cat stopped short, forcing Wade to do the same. “I thought you were running a part out to the West Camp.”

“I am.” His glance flicked past her to touch on Wade. “I decided since I was headed that way, I’d take their mail with me. Save them a trip.” With the explanation made, he nodded a greeting to Wade. “See you made it back again, Rogers.”

“That I did,” Wade replied with an easy smile and came forward to stand next to Cat, extending a hand.

“Good to see you again, Laredo.”

“Right.” Laredo shifted the bundle of mail to his other hand and briefly gripped Wade’s. “Come to do some shopping, did you?”

“No, I did,” Cat inserted. “I need some powdered sugar. Since Dad was taking a nap, Wade came along with me.”

“Cat’s being my unofficial tour guide,” Wade added.

“You couldn’t be in better hands,” Laredo stated, then stirred. “I’d best be on my way. Take care.” He directed his parting words to Cat as Wade swung to one side, giving Laredo a clear path to the door.

Wade briefly tracked Laredo’s departure with his gaze. then returned it to Cat. A crooked smile carved a groove into one cheek. “That’s a hard man to read. He didn’t seem surprised to see me—and he didn’t seem all that glad either.”

“That’s just Laredo being Laredo.” Cat shrugged her lack of concern. “He tends to keep anyone he doesn’t know well at arm’s length. But he’s the best thing that’s happened to this family. Especially to Jessy.”

“I know Chase definitely looks on him as family.”

“We all do,” Cat said with a smile and turned toward the aisle where the powdered sugar was located.

“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.”