Calder Pride (26 page)

Chase flicked a dark glance at his daughter. “Tell me a better one.”

Cat stared at Logan, stunned that he would come to her defense. He turned to her, an unexpected gentleness in his eyes. She felt inexplicably safe.

“One year of marriage is hardly a life sentence,” he told her. “If it doesn’t work at the end of it, we’ll part company—maybe not as friends, but certainly not as enemies.”

“Take it, Cat,” her father warned. “You know that I will do exactly what I said.”

“A year,” she whispered.

Logan held out his hand to seal the bargain. The instant she placed her hand in his and felt the warm, solid grip of his fingers, Cat wondered what she had done.

S
ilence reigned for a moment. The solid and heavy pound of her heartbeat sounded loud in it. Pulling her hand back, Cat looked up into Logan’s hard, virile face. The gentleness was gone from his eyes; something else was in them now. Confused and uneasy, nerves jumping, Cat retreated a step.

“I promised Quint I would be up to see him before he went to sleep. If you’ll excuse me.” The polite phrase came automatically.

Without waiting for a response, Cat walked from the room, fighting the panic that kept pushing her to run. At the bottom of the oak staircase, she paused, still tasting the fear of her father’s threat, still confused by the way Logan had sided with her against her father, and still numbed by the agreement she made.

As every thought led her back to Quint, she climbed the stairs. When she reached his bedroom, Jessy was just coming out. She saw Cat and smiled. “He fell asleep while I was reading to him.”

“Oh.” Cat had a moment’s regret, then decided it was just as well. Quint was much too observant for his years, and she had too many emotions tangling
together too close to the surface. “I’ll just look in on him.”

When she reached for the doorknob, Jessy laid a detaining hand on her arm, her head tilting to one side as her hazel eyes closely examined Cat’s face. “Cat, are you all right?”

“I will be.” She had to, for Quint’s sake.

“What went on down there? What’s this all about?” Jessy persisted.

“Quint.” With that, Cat opened the door and slipped into the thickly shadowed bedroom.

The deep purple color of a fast-falling twilight darkened the room’s windows. A small night-light on the bureau threw a feeble glow into the room, its dim light touching the boy sprawled in sleep in the twin bed.

On silent feet, Cat crossed to the bed and paused a moment simply to look at him. Love welled, the fiercely protective and tender kind that knew no bounds. Giving in to the need to touch him, Cat rearranged the lay of the sheet over him and lightly smoothed the sleek strands of black hair from his forehead, then bent and brushed a kiss on the softness of his cheek.

“Good night,” she whispered, her voice breaking a little.

There had never been any real choice to make; Cat saw that now. As much as she had loved Repp, she loved her son more. As dramatic as it sounded, she knew it would kill her to lose him. She recalled Logan’s remark that he would marry the devil himself if it meant having his son. It was a sentiment she understood totally. By her own mouth she had condemned herself to it.

But only for a year, she reminded herself. Only for a year.

Cat lingered a moment longer by Quint’s bed,
then left the room as quietly as she had entered it, pulling the door almost closed behind her. In the hallway, she heard the murmur of voices below, easily picking out Logan’s and her father’s, both talking in calm, level tones. Frowning, she strained to catch what they were saying, but their words were indistinct. Suddenly furious, she went to find out.

Logan was on his way out of the study when she reached the bottom of the steps. He paused to wait when he saw her coming toward him. Cat wasted no time confronting him with her suspicions.

“What other decisions did you and my father make about my future while I was gone?”

“None.”

“Really?” she said with arching skepticism. “Then what exactly were you talking about all this time?”

He ran an unamused glance over her, his expression unfathomable. “I had a few questions to ask your father, strictly official, concerning the cattle killings.”

“Oh.” His answer stole all the wind from her anger. To cover it, she lifted her chin slightly. “What kind of questions? Has there been some new development?”

Answering that meant telling her about Lath Anderson’s possible connection to the case, which would inevitably lead to a discussion of the accident. And Logan wasn’t about to mention Repp Taylor’s name. “It’s a bit involved. You’ll have to ask your father.” He lifted the hat he carried, motioning with it toward the door. “I was just leaving. Care to see me out?”

“Of course,” she murmured, clearly distracted by her own weighty thoughts when she fell in beside him.

His glance traveled over her face, noting the troubled green of her eyes. “Your father invited me
to dinner tomorrow. I thought that would be a good time to tell Quint about me—and our wedding plans,” he said when they reached the front door.

Logan expected an argument from her as she turned and placed her shoulders against the massive door. “Why did you do it?”

Puzzled by the question, Logan frowned. “Do what?”

“Stand up for me against my father.”

His expression smoothed, a glint of something appearing in his eyes. “He was wrong when he threatened to take Quint away from you. Just as you were wrong when you tried to deny me the right to be with him.”

Cat shook her head. “That still doesn’t explain why you spoke up for me.”

“I didn’t. I spoke up for what was right,” he told her. “You’ll find I’m that way, Cat.”

Something told her it had nothing to do with the badge he wore. But it was something to be filed away and considered later. There was another very important concern that needed to be settled between them.

“This marriage of ours,” she began, a battle tilt to her chin, “it’s to be a business arrangement. I won’t share your bed.”

His head dipped slightly in acknowledgment, a coolness in his eyes. “That’s your decision.”

His easy acceptance didn’t bring the sense of relief Cat had expected. If anything, she felt more on edge.

“Anything else?” He laid a hand on the heavy brass doorknob, signaling his intention to leave.

“Not at the moment.” She moved away from the door.

“In that case, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He slipped on his hat and walked out.

Alone in the entryway, Cat turned from the door, then hesitated, her thoughts and emotions all ajumble. Too restless to sleep, too agitated to sit and too confused to think, she scraped the hair back from her face and sighed, the night stretching long before her.

She took a step toward the living room as her father came out of the den. On another occasion, Cat would have noticed the slight slump to his broad shoulders and the extra lines in his face, but the sight of him this time brought sharply back the memory of his betrayal. Never in her life would she have believed that her own father would turn against her. But he had. The pain of that went deep, turning her suddenly bitter and angry.

“Cat—”

“I have no desire to talk to you, not after what you did.” Over the years, she had learned to conceal her feelings. She made no attempt to do so now.

Sadness clouded his eyes, at odds with the half smile that quirked his mouth. “Then maybe you can finally appreciate the pain you so carelessly inflicted with your threat. I hoped to show you how unreasonable you were. It seems I’ve proved my point.”

She felt the slap of his words and reacted in kind. “Is that your excuse?” Contempt was in her voice.

“No, but it is my reason. I have no intention of apologizing for it, if that’s what you expect.”

“I don’t expect anything from you, not anymore.”

“I see you’re still too proud to admit when you’re wrong.”

“Pride has nothing to do with it.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“No.” But even to Cat, the denial rang false.

He sighed his disappointment. “You had no right to refuse to let Logan see his son. No one does until he proves to be unfit as a father. I had hoped you
would have the guts to admit it.”

She half turned from him, feeling broken and battered. “It was wrong. But Quint is a Calder. I didn’t want him to lose that.”

“Regardless of his name, he’s still a Calder.”

Her head moved from side to side in denial of that. “It isn’t the same, Dad.”

“In the ways that count, it is. He will always be a Calder by blood. That’s the way people will regard him now. And with your marriage to Logan, he’ll no longer be known as my illegitimate grandson.”

“You make that sound like it’s some horrible cross he has to bear,” Cat retorted, angry again.

“I’m well aware that for your generation, having a child out of wedlock has become so commonplace you attach no importance to it at all. But you’ll never convince me that it is either right or good for the child—regardless of how socially acceptable such a practice is.”

“I’m marrying Logan, aren’t I?” she shot back.

“You could do a lot worse than him, Cat.”

She turned on him. “How can you possibly know that? The man is a stranger. You know absolutely nothing about him—not his family, his background, where’s he from, what he’s done, or why he came to Blue Moon. You have to admit Blue Moon is on the road from nowhere to nothing.”

He looked at her for a long moment without answering. “There was a time in this country when you didn’t ask a man questions about his background or his past. Who he’d been or what he’d done before didn’t count. You made your judgments about him based on the way he was around you. During the few times I’ve been around Logan, he’s shown himself to be intelligent, thorough in his work, a man with a strong sense of family, and one who won’t be pushed around. Those are admirable qualities, Cat. Now, if
you have firsthand knowledge of something against his favor, I’d like to hear about it.”

Unable to come up with anything, Cat hugged her arms about her, trying to close out his words. “He wants to tell Quint tomorrow that he’s his father.”

“It sounds reasonable to me.”

“Maybe.” Her shoulders lifted in an uncertain shrug. “I’ve never talked to him about his father. I’m not sure how Quint will take the news.”

“That will depend on your attitude, Cat,” he told her. “Quint’s going to look to you. If you hold yourself aloof from Logan or show hostility toward him, Quint will pick up on that and, more than likely, echo it.” He paused to separate and give weight to his next words. “You have the power to turn Quint against his father. Remember, that will leave just as deep a scar on Quint as it will on Logan. If a boy can’t look up to his father, chances are he won’t look up at all.”

Sobered by his words, Cat found she had a great deal more to think about than she had first believed.

Shortly after breakfast the next morning, Tiny Yates stopped by The Homestead with the news that one of the mares had foaled. To Quint, this was monumental news, infinitely more pressing than making his bed. The instant Cat gave her permission, he bolted from the house and headed straight for the broodmare barn. Cat was almost grateful for his absence. All through breakfast it had been a strain to act as though everything was normal, that nothing out of the ordinary was about to occur.

A hundred times Cat wondered whether she ought to prepare Quint for the news. But she didn’t
know what to say, just as she didn’t know how she was going to tell him that Logan was his father. It was almost a relief that all Quint wanted to talk about was the foal.

“He already stood up.” Quint sat atop the manger, gazing with rapt attention at the reddish brown foal lying in the straw, its slim sides rising and falling in sleep. “His legs were real wobbly, but they’ll get stronger. You can’t see his face now, but he’s got a white stripe just like Sierra’s,” he said, referring to the mare nosing at the fresh hay in the manger.

“He’s a beautiful foal.”

“Tiny says he’s gonna be the best-lookin’ one of this year’s batch.”

“He might be,” Cat agreed, nerves churning in her stomach. “I think it’s time for us to go. He needs his rest and you need to get cleaned up before dinner.”

“But it isn’t time for dinner yet.”

“Not yet,” she admitted. “But I bet by the time you get cleaned up and help set the table, it will be a lot closer than you think.”

“I’m not really dirty. All I gotta do is wash my hands and—”

“Wrong.” Forcing a laugh, she scooped him off the stall and set him down in the alleyway, accidentally knocking his cowboy hat askew.

Issuing a heavy sigh of resignation, Quint pushed his hat squarely on his head and started for the door at a plodding walk. Two seconds later, a new thought struck him. “I’ll have time to tell Grandpa about the new foal before I clean up, won’t I?”

“I think that can be arranged,” Cat agreed, smiling as he broke into a run.

At a slower pace, she followed him outside into the bright sunlight of late morning. The ranch yard
was without its usual bustle of activity with so many hands off on roundup. The sleeping quiet of it was like a still picture of a ranch scene with its grouping of buildings, fences, the spring-green of the prairie grass beyond them and the tall blue sky arching into infinity. Quint was the little boy running through it, bound for the big white house on the knoll.

Intent on her gangly son, Cat didn’t notice the moving dust cloud along the east road, but the wind brought the thrum of an engine to her. Her heart skittered against her ribs when she recognized Logan’s pickup truck bearing down on the house. Quint saw it, too, and stopped to wait for her.

“It’s the sheriff.” His questioning look asked what he was doing here.

“Grandpa invited him to have dinner with us today.” The tension that had lived in the background since last night now leaped to the front.

Quint frowned in his quietly serious way. “But it isn’t dinnertime yet.”

“It’s okay.” But it felt far from okay as the pickup rolled to a stop near the house and Logan stepped out, dressed in jeans and a camel tan jacket. “Let’s go meet him, shall we?”

Cat didn’t wait for his agreement, striding toward Logan with a false eagerness, conscious of the power she had over this meeting and determined to be fair about it. She saw the sudden sharpening of Logan’s gaze. Guessing at the question, she gave a quick, small shake of her head, signaling that she hadn’t said anything to Quint about him.

“Hello, Logan.” She tried to sound breezy and friendly.

“Cat.” He touched his hat to her, then shifted his focus to Quint, flashing him a smile. The potency of it momentarily stunned her. It was something she
had forgotten about him. “Hello, Quint. How’ve you been?”