Santa In Montana (Calder Saga 11)

“Has anyone seen Laredo?” she asked. “I thought he’d probably beaten me here.”

Quick to play on the excuse of his advanced age, Chase feigned a frown of both surprise and apology. “Did I forget to tell you Laredo’s going to be gone for a while?”

“Gone?” Jessy repeated in astonishment. “Where?”

“That’s my business.” Chase shook out his napkin and laid it across his lap.

Hands on her hips, Cat gave him a reproving look. “Dad, don’t tell me you’ve conned Laredo into doing some Christmas shopping for you? First Quint and—”

Chase cut her off. “Just never you mind about what he’s doing or why. This isn’t the time of the year to be getting nosy and asking a lot of questions.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he observed the way Jessy visibly relaxed

at hearing his response. At the moment, he knew she was satisfied there was nothing wrong.

“How long will he be gone?” Jessy walked over to her customary chair at the table and pulled it out.

“Does it matter?” Chase countered.

“Not really,” she said with unconcern. “I was just wondering if I’d have time to get that hot tub installed before he gets back.”

“What hot tub?” Chase frowned.

“The one he wants for Christmas,” Jessy replied.

“That should work out perfectly for you then,” Chase said, “because I don’t expect him back at the ranch until right before Christmas.”

“He’ll be gone that long?” Jessy glanced at him in surprise.

“You make it sound like forever,” he chided lightly. “Christmas is only a couple of weeks away.”

“Is ’Redo going to buy me a present?” Jake asked eagerly.

“Should he?” Chase turned the question back on him. “Are you buying him one?”

Gripped by uncertainty, Jake turned to his mother. “Are we, Mom?”

The question drew soft laughter and diverted the conversation away from any further discussion of Laredo’s absence. Which was exactly what Chase wanted.

The one-hundred-plus-year-old barn was a hive of activity, undergoing its annual transformation into a site worthy of a Christmas gathering. Those ranch hands assigned to tasks were on tall ladders hanging red and green crepe paper from the rafters while wives and older members of their families adorned the stalls with evergreen garlands and holiday wreaths.

Sloan stood at the base of one ladder, holding it steady while high above her Tank Willis twisted red and green crepe paper together to form a double garland, then held one section of it to the rafter.

“Thank God for staple guns,” Sloan declared.

He grinned at her. “That’s how the West was won. Of course, back then it was barbed wire that was getting fastened to a post.” He picked up his gun from the small tool shelf on the ladder and pressed it against the end of a garland, banging staples loudly into the rafter.

Startled by the sudden, explosive sound, Cat jerked her head up, realized what made it, and muttered to herself, “Noisy things.”

“How’s the wall decorations coming?” someone hurrying by asked.

“Just fine,” she said to the woman’s back and returned to sorting through boxes, trying to find all the pieces to a pin-the-nose-on-the-reindeer game.

Bright sunlight briefly flooded the wide central alley when its big door was swung open. Cat looked up to see who entered, hoping it was Wade. But it was one of the ranch hands carting another box. She took a moment to survey the progress that had been made. For the most part they seemed to be on schedule.

Food that didn’t need refrigerating, mostly sweets, was already set out on a long table, protected by plastic wrap. There were several platters filled with gingerbread cowboys and sugar-cookie cowgirls, their shirts and jeans outlined in colored icing with silver dragees for the snaps. Cat suspected they were the handiwork of Kelly Taylor. But whoever made them, they looked too good to eat.

In the stage area, the children were rehearsing the play in their everyday clothes, working off energy by teasing each other and dashing around the platform. Babette Nevins, who was in charge, looked to be having a tough time of it.