Calder Pride (Calder Saga 5)

To Culley’s surprise, Chase remarked, “With all that dark hair, I have a feeling he’s going to take after his mother.”

“Have you decided on a name for the little guy yet?” Amy asked curiously.

Cat nodded. “Since he will be part of the fifth generation of Calders on the Triple C, I’m going to call him Quint. Quint Benteen Calder.”

The baby waved a tiny fist in the air.

PART 3

Trouble comes from nowhere.

Now you will have to decide

If the son should know of the father

At the loss of that fierce Calder pride.

TWELVE

A pickup carrying the Triple C logo on its doors swung off the highway, splashed through a puddle left by a recent spring rain, and rolled to a stop in front of Sally’s Place. Behind the wheel, Chase switched off the engine while Cat opened the passenger door, then turned back to the boy seated between them.

Four days away from his fifth birthday, Quint Calder had that slender, coltish look of a boy trying to grow into his long arms and legs. Beneath a battered and much-worn straw cowboy hat, his hair gleamed blue-black in the sunlight. There was already a hint of high cheekbones showing in the softness of his face. Head bent, a furrow of concentration marring the smoothness of his forehead, Quint worked to unfasten his seat belt.

“Let me get that for you.” Cat reached to help him.

“I can do it myself, Mom,” he asserted quite calmly.

“Of course.” Cat drew her hands back, exchanging an amused glance with her father.

Quint’s remark was typical of a boy seeking to establish his independence. But in other ways, her son was far from typical. Rowdy and boisterous he was not. By nature, he was serious and quiet, a trait that many mistook for shyness. But there wasn’t a bashful bone in his body. On the contrary, Quint was absolutely fearless, a fact that had caused Cat many an anxious moment. He was slow to anger, but when sufficiently provoked, he had a temper to rival hers, although Cat could count on one hand the number of times Quint had displayed it. He was a thinker and a doer rather than a talker. The ranch hands called him “little man.”

As always, when Quint succeeded in unbuckling his seat belt, he didn’t look to Cat for praise. In his way of thinking, such a simple task wasn’t worthy of it. Aware of it, Cat swung out of the truck and held the door open for him, while Chase climbed stiffly out the other side.

Quint scooted forward in the seat, stood, then paused and reached down to pick up the cane lying on the floor. “Here’s your cane, Grandpa.” Matter-of-factly he passed it to him.

“Thanks.” Chase took it.

Turning, Quint headed out the passenger side, the tail of his shirt hanging out of his jeans. Noticing it, Cat stopped him at the door. “Let’s tuck your shirt in.” With a deftness that came from long practice, she proceeded to push the material inside his jeans.

“What d’we got to do in town, Mom?”

“I have some shopping to do first, then—”

“Are you shopping for my birthday present?” Quint wanted to know, excitement sparkling in his gray eyes, gray eyes that never failed to remind Cat of another pair of eyes equally gray. It was a sight she still found a little disconcerting.

“No, I have already bought your present.” Smiling, she gave his hat brim a playful tug, pulling it down onto his forehead.

He quickly righted it and jumped to the ground. “What did you get me?”

“You don’t really want me to tell you, do you?”

“No. Surprises are better,” Quint stated with adultlike certainty, then walked to the front of the truck where Chase waited for them. “Are you going shoppin’ with us, Grandpa?”

“Nope. I’m gonna have a cup of coffee and visit with Sally.” He nodded toward the building that housed the combination restaurant and bar. “Would you like to join me? Maybe have a soda or some hot chocolate?”

The suggestion of hot chocolate had Quint’s eyes lighting up, but he turned first to Cat. “Is it okay if I go with Grandpa?”

“Sure. Just behave yourself and mind your manners,” Cat told him.