Laura threw a glance over her shoulder. “It’s mine.”
Laredo looked at her sideways, amusement lurking in his eyes. “Am I mistaken, or are you coming home with more bags than you took?”
“One or two. After all, I had to buy presents for everyone.” Laura didn’t bother to mention the new wardrobe that filled two of the suitcases. Her mother, who had no interest in clothes, high-fashion or otherwise, never would have understood why Laura thought she needed so many. And Laura had long ago given up trying to explain.
“It might take two trips to get all of that down to The Homestead,” Laredo murmured, more to himself than to them.
“By the way, Tara asked me to give you her regards.” The minute she mentioned Tara’s name, Laura could almost feel the temperature dip. It was a reaction that confirmed what she already knew—that her family had no liking for the woman. Her presence in their lives was something they tolerated, mostly for Laura’s sake.
“Is she staying here in Montana or flying home to Fort Worth?” Chase asked, with no great interest in the answer.
“She’ll be staying here at Dunshill.” Dunshill was the name Tara had long ago given to her summer home, but Laura found she couldn’t say it without thinking of Sebastian.
The arrival of the men with her luggage briefly sidetracked the conversation. With Laredo’s help, the two men were busy trying to figure out how to fit it all in the back of the Suburban while the others looked on.
After a moment, Jessy glanced at Laura and asked, almost as an afterthought. “So how was your trip? Did you have a good time?”
“I had a marvelous time,” Laura stated without reservation. “I could bore you endlessly with stories about the places we went and the things we did. But right now I want to hear all about the welcome-home party you’re throwing for Quint.”
Fluffy white seed-tufts from the cottonwoods growing along the river’s edge drifted in the air like so much confetti as Mother Nature added her own touch to the festive atmosphere. Pennants streamed from the freshly painted gazebo, along with a banner celebrating Quint’s return home.
It was a party attended by all the ranch hands and their families as well as a few neighbors. The large turnout showed the high regard they had for this Calder-born son whom they had dubbed “Little Man” as a boy.
As always, there was more food than could be eaten, though an effort had been made to do just that. A few people were still grazing at the dessert table. But for the most part, the eating was done and the socializing had begun, filling the air with the sound of talk and laughter, the strumming of instruments from those musically inclined, and the shrieks of children at play or splashing in the shallow water at river’s edge.
Chase was comfortably settled in a lawn chair, letting the sun warm his bones, his cane hooked over the armrest and a cup of cold beer from one of the kegs in his hand. At the moment his attention was on his daughter Cathleen, better known as Cat. With her petite frame, green eyes, and black hair that had yet to show any streaks of gray, Cat was the spitting image of his first and much loved wife, Maggie. Chase had never been able to look at Cat without seeing the resemblance. But today it wasn’t the remnants of past grief that brought shadows to his eyes.
When he noticed his son-in-law, Logan
Echohawk, wandering by, Chase called him over and motioned for him to pull up an empty chair. Logan dragged the chair closer and sat down, giving his hat a push to the back of his head and showing Chase a profile marked by high, hard cheekbones and a strong, straight nose that spoke of his Sioux ancestry.
“Heck of a party,” Logan remarked and hooked one leg across the knee of the other, idly giving the hem of his jeans, which he wore in place of his sheriff’s uniform, a tug.
Chase chose not to comment and demanded instead, “Cat’s lost weight, hasn’t she?”
Logan’s gray eyes flicked a glance in his wife’s direction, a shadow of worry briefly darkening them. “She’s taken this hard. It doesn’t seem to matter that Quint’s wound was never life-threatening.”
Chase nodded in understanding. “Cat’s always had a tremendous capacity for emotion, the kind that runs to the extreme, seldom settling for anything in between.”
“I always knew she was against Quint going into law enforcement, but I thought it was mostly because she didn’t want him to live somewhere far away.”
“There was more to it than that.”
“Yeah.” Logan didn’t need it spelled out, either. “I’ve decided not to seek reelection when my term as sheriff is up. There’s enough work on the ranch to keep me busy.”
“That’s probably a good idea. At least she won’t have to worry about something happening to you.”
“That’s what I thought.” With Cat being the subject of discussion, it was automatic that Logan would watch her. He saw the idle glance she sent in the direction of the gazebo, and the second look she took before she began to scan the crowd in a slightly frantic way.
In seconds she was hurrying over to him. “Have you seen Quint around?” She attempted to inject a curious interest in her question without completely succeeding. “I don’t see him anywhere.”
“I just saw him a couple minutes ago with Trey,” Chase answered. “They were headed toward the barn—I imagine to use the facilities.”
“He didn’t walk all that way on his crutches, did he?” Cat protested, throwing a look in the direction of the century-old, big-timbered barn, as if Quint might still be in sight. “He should have said something to me. I could have driven him up there.”
“The walk won’t hurt him,” Logan assured her.
Temper snapped in her green eyes. “I don’t think you realize how weak he is. He’s only been out of the hospital two days.”