Calder Pride (34 page)

“Really. What brought you here?”

“I was trying to get a lead on a man suspected of selling illegal firearms.” Logan wasn’t about to mention Lath by name and have his memory intrude on this. “I asked my questions and left the next day. But I remembered the bigness of the sky and the scarcity of people. Unlike the rest of Montana, the land prices around here were reasonable. The celebrity and big-money types prefer more spectacular scenery, I guess. After I got the job, I started dickering to buy the Circle Six. The rest you know.”

“Yes.” She smoothed a hand over his chest in an exploring fashion. “What about your family?”

“Other than the odd cousin or two, I don’t have any.” Seeking to distract her, he nuzzled at the corner of her mouth. “I don’t remember you talking this much before. I guess Quint gets it from you.”

She laughed against his lips, then gave them a quick kiss. “That’s because I spent most of my time avoiding you. Now I want to know everything about you.”

“But you don’t have to learn it all now.” He nibbled his way from her mouth to her throat. “We have plenty of time.”

“We don’t know that. Nobody knows that,” she said with a telling throb in her voice. Convinced she was thinking of Repp and angered that she had, Logan lifted his head and saw the fiercely needy light that burned in her eyes—for him. Everything smoothed out as she cupped a hand to his face. “I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to you, Logan. I love you too much now.”

There was that word again. Again, he dodged it. “Nothing’s going to happen to me—unless you talk me to death.”

“You know what I meant.” She feigned exasperation, then turned serious again. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You aren’t going to lose me. You and I are going to grow old together and spend our evenings out there rocking on our front porch.” Logan paused, turning thoughtful and tender. “I guess that’s what love is—wanting to grow old with someone and watch her hair turn silver and the wrinkles line her face, loving every one of them because each is a memory of the days, months, and years you’ve shared with her.” A long slow smile curved his lips. “I have a feeling when I’m ninety, I’ll still be chasing you around those rocking chairs.”

“And I promise I’ll slow down so you can catch me.”

“Ah, but will you stop talking?” he mocked and covered her mouth with his to make sure she did just that.

This time when he made love to her, it was with none of the urgency of before. It was long and slow and tender.

He loved her. It still had the power to shake him to know exactly how much he loved her. She wrapped her legs around him when he slid between them. His mouth traveled over her while he moved deeply inside her with slow, steady strokes. Each time she shuddered, a new pleasure rippled through him, and he glimpsed the glory a man and woman could know together.

Logan stirred, conscious first of a wall of heat pressed against him. Then he breathed in the familiar fra
grance of the shampoo Cat used and remembered with a sudden rush of feeling. Opening his eyes, he shifted away from her, careful not to disturb her, then frowned in surprise at the sunlight pouring into the bedroom. He threw a quick glance at the clock on the nightstand. It was after six in the morning. His mental alarm clock had failed him for the first time. Hardly surprising, considering all the strenuous nighttime activity, he thought with a rather smugly satisfied smile.

“Good morning.” The whispered greeting came from the doorway.

Logan sat bolt upright, his startled gaze locking on Quint, standing just inside the room, still dressed in his pajamas. “Good morning,” Logan echoed the soft tone, unable to remember feeling more awkward and uncomfortable than he did at that moment. “Your mom’s still asleep.”

Quint nodded, then smiled. “I guess you told her you don’t snore.”

“I did.” Hastily Logan checked to make certain Cat was fully covered, then remembered his shorts were somewhere on the floor, probably not too far from Cat’s nightgown.

“I’ll bet she was glad about that.”

“I think she was. Why don’t you run and get dressed and you can help me with morning chores?”

“Okay.” Quint turned to leave, then hesitated. “Mom might get worried if she can’t find me.”

“Wha’?” Cat lifted her head and peered over her shoulder toward the door. “Quint. It can’t be morning already.” She rolled onto her back, levering herself up on her elbows. As the covers started to slip a little too low, Logan pressed her shoulder back onto the bed.

“Careful,” he warned.

Her eyes sprang open as her cheeks took on a
rather beautiful color. Logan grinned when she clutched at the sheet.

“Quint’s going to get dressed and help me with chores. Is that all right with you?” he asked.

“It’s fine, yes. You go right ahead, Quint,” she said in a rush.

“Okay.” He glanced again at Logan. “You’re gonna get dressed now, aren’t ya?”

“I’m right behind you.” He swung his legs off the side of the bed, careful to keep the sheet tucked around his middle. “Want to have a race to see who can get dressed the fastest?”

“I bet I’ll beat you.” Quint grinned and ran for his bedroom.

Logan didn’t waste time locating his shorts and pulling them on. Cat lay in bed watching him with an all-too-contented look, much too beautiful and tousled. Walking over to her, he leaned down and gave her a long, thorough kiss.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning,” she sighed.

He kissed her lightly again, then lifted his head a couple inches, eyes twinkling. “Remind me to get a lock for that door while I’m in town today.”

The corners of her mouth deepened. “And you wanted to have another child.”

“Correction—
more children
.”

Cat raised an eyebrow. “How many is more?”

“However many you and the Good Lord bless us with.” He grinned. A drawer slammed in Quint’s bedroom. Logan glanced briefly over his shoulder. “It sounds like I’d better get a move on if I expect to make a decent showing in this race.”

She wrapped her hands around his neck and dragged him down for another long kiss that started his pulse hammering in his neck. “The race,” she reminded him, impish laughter dancing in her eyes.
“I wouldn’t want him to beat you too badly—at least, not until you get a lock for the door.”

“Witch,” he murmured, then planted a quick, hard kiss on her lips before pushing off the bed and leaving her to fetch his clothes from the spare room.

Understanding at last what bliss felt like, Cat snuggled back under the covers and savored this bottomless contentment she felt inside.

During the next two days Cat was amazed by how easily they went from being two people sharing the same house, careful to give the other plenty of space, to a man and wife doing things together and doing their best to take up the same space every chance they had. With Quint around, that wasn’t often.

With her hat pulled low to block the sun’s strong and slanting rays, Cat held one end of the board while Logan hammered the other end to a corral post. Quint stood to one side of Logan, ready to hand him the next nail. Cat smiled when she considered that even something as simple as replacing a rotting board had become a family affair.

How had it happened? she wondered. When had it changed from physical attraction to love? Why hadn’t she recognized it before that night? Abruptly she threw away all the questions. The how, when, and why of it didn’t matter. This was love, deeply rooted and in full flower.

Finished with his side, Logan moved to her end. She shifted position to make room for him and held the board until he had the first nail hammered in place. She stepped back to watch when he took a second nail from Quint.

After he was done, Logan gave the board a hard shake to test its solidness, then nodded in satisfac
tion. “That should do it.” He tipped his head toward Quint. “Take a look at that. I think we did a good job, don’t you?”

“We sure did,” Quint agreed. “Do we got another board to fix?”

“Nope. They all look sturdy enough to hold a tall boy or a stout horse,” he replied, then glanced at Cat. “Which reminds me—a rancher over by Lewiston has a pair of draft horses for sale—Clydesdales. I was planning on taking a look at them on Saturday. Would you and Quint like to ride along? We could make a day of it.”

“It sounds great, but—what do you want with a draft horse team?” Cat asked, a little puzzled.

“What’s a draft horse?” Quint wanted to know.

“It’s like the kind you see pulling the wagon in the beer commercials,” Logan answered his question first, then hers. “I don’t have enough acres in hay to warrant the cost of a tractor—even a used one. Horses will be practical and economical. It may take a little more time to mow and windrow and load it, but I kinda like the idea of doing it the old way.”

She pretended to give his argument careful thought. “The upkeep on them would be cheaper. They certainly won’t be as noisy as a tractor, either.”

“My thinking exactly.” He smiled, then turned a little serious. “You may as well know now that you married a man without any great ambition to build the next ranching empire. I don’t want the Circle Six to get so large that I can’t work it myself. I want to pull my own calves and mend my own fences. I don’t want to pay somebody to do the work for me. I’m not saying the other way is wrong; it just isn’t right for me. This keeps me sane, gives me the balance I need to—”

“You don’t have to explain,” Cat told him, touched that he seemed concerned about her reaction to this, as
if it might somehow affect her opinion of him. If anything, it reinforced the feeling that Logan was a man who didn’t feel the need to prove anything to anyone, not even himself. At the same time, she was certain she had never met anyone more capable of stepping in and taking charge of a ranch the size of the Triple C.

“I’m not explaining exactly,” he said with a trace of impatience at the interruption. “I’m not saying we’ll be poor, either. We’ll make a good living here. It’s just that I don’t want you thinking that someday we’ll be building us a great big house to live in.”

Hiding a smile, Cat turned to look at their home. “No, but I do think it might need to be larger.”

“Why? We have plenty of room.”

Shrugging, she said, “You’re the one who said you wanted more children.”

He stared at her for a stunned second, then threw back his head and laughed.

The two draft horses, Jake and Angel, were all Quint wanted to talk about when they went to The Homestead for dinner on Sunday. “You should see them, Grandpa. They’re really big,” Quint declared with emphasis. “And they’re tall, too. About as tall as this room.”

Chase glanced at the dining room’s ten-foot ceiling and contained his skepticism. “That’s really tall.”

“Yeah, and Dad’s got harnesses for ’em to hitch ’em to things,” he stumbled a bit over the new terms, but it was his use of the word “dad” that had Chase glancing at his son-in-law, only to have his eye drawn to Cat, noting the glow in her eyes when she looked at Logan.

“What’s that thing you put over their heads, Dad?”

“A collar,” Logan supplied.

“You should see how big it is, Grandpa. If you try to put it on me, it falls to the ground—without even touching me.”

“You are pretty skinny,” Ty observed.

“Yeah, but it’s gigantic.” Quint made a big circle of his arms to show him.

“I think it’s time you did less talking and more eating,” Cat suggested.

Obligingly Quint picked up his fork and scooped it into his mashed potatoes. Chase filled the silence he left. “What do you have in the way of horse-drawn implements, Logan?”

“Right now, just a hayrack. I’ve got a line on a mower. I thought I’d check it out this next week.”

“We still have a sledge and an old buck rake stored in shed three,” Jessy recalled.

“Now that you mention it, we do.” Chase nodded. “I remember dragging all that stuff in there. I couldn’t have been much more than fourteen or fifteen.”

“Any idea about what kind of shape they’re in?” Logan asked. “I might be interested in buying them from you.”

“They were in working condition when we put them in there,” Chase replied. “After dinner, you and Ty can take a look at them. If you’re still interested, I’ll make them a wedding present to you.”

When Logan started to say something, Cat laid a silencing hand on his arm. “Thank you, Dad. It’s the best gift you could give us.”

Logan was clearly amused by her quick assertion. “I have the feeling your daughter thought I might object. I don’t. I accept it as a wedding gift.” Somewhere within his answer was the inference that he wouldn’t be so quick to accept future “gifts.”

Chase nodded. “I’m glad we agree on that.”

“What’s a buck rake?” Quint frowned.

“It gathers up hay,” Logan explained.

“How?”

“It’s easier to show you than to tell you. As soon as you finish eating, we’ll go look at it.”

When the meal was over, Ty, Logan, and Quint did just that while Cat stayed to help Jessy with the dishes. Chase pitched in, carrying a stack of dessert plates to the kitchen, then lingered to have another cup of coffee, his glance running over Cat in quiet speculation, noting the new vibrancy, the shining ease.

“I guess I don’t have to ask how you and Logan are getting along,” he remarked.

A little startled, she stopped, then laughed softly. “No, you don’t.” She paused and looked thoughtfully at the kitchen with its dark cherry cupboards and huge, brick-fronted fireplace, a room that was as big and solid and lived-in as the rest of the house. “It’s funny, but I thought I would never be happy living anywhere else but right here. But I am.”

“It shows,” Jessy told her with an approving smile.

“I guess it does.” Cat was glad that it did, and proud, too. Sighing, she admitted, “I’m so happy it scares me sometimes. In a way, it’s like waiting for a shoe to drop.”

“Don’t borrow trouble, Cat.” Chase was sharp with her. “It’ll find you soon enough. When it does, it won’t be when or from where you expect it.”

“I know.” But his words only reinforced the feeling that a menacing black cloud loomed on the horizon.