“It’s true.” It suddenly became very important that she convince him of it. “Before Jake was born, I was updating my portfolio. That’s when I saw it. Before I met you, all my photographs have a cold and lonely quality to them, full of shadows. The ones I took afterward are filled with light and warmth. They aren’t empty landscapes, but places with people in them. They’re rich with life now—the way I am with you.”
Trey looked at her with new eyes, slightly humbled. “I didn’t know.”
“You do now.” Then it was her turn to hesitate. “Just the same, I do realize that my work may cause some problems in the future.”
“Why?” Trey frowned.
“Well, your aunt isn’t going to be there forever, running the household and entertaining all your guests. At some point—”
Trey broke in. “Good God, Sloan.” His smile was wide with amusement. “We can hire somebody to cook and clean, and if it becomes necessary, we’ll find a social secretary to handle the rest.”
“You don’t mind?” Sloan couldn’t keep the amazement out of her voice.
“I’ll mind that you’re off somewhere taking pictures instead of being with me, but I’ll survive, knowing that you’ll come back home when you’re done.”
“And I always will come back,” Sloan promised.
“You’d better.” There was that crooked smile again that raised such havoc with her pulse. “Or I’ll come after you.”
She smiled and snuggled a little closer to him. Ahead of them, rising tall against the horizon, was The Homestead in all its pillared bigness. Home. Contentment eased through Sloan with the realization that she finally had one. And a family to go with it.
All were on hand to greet them when they pulled up to the house. There was a lot of touching and hugging, along with expressions of relief that they were unharmed.
Once inside, little Jake became the center of attention. Chase wasted no time clumping to a wing-backed chair in the den and lowering himself into it. He propped his cane against the armrest and held out his arms.
“Come on. I’ve waited long enough to hold my great-grand-baby. Hand him over,” he ordered.
More than happy to oblige him, Sloan placed her son in his arms and stood back to watch. Wide-eyed, Jake frowned at this craggy-faced man holding him, but Sloan was warmed by the incredible gentleness and love in Chase’s eyes.
Beside her, Jessy laughed softly in amusement. “Doesn’t it look like he’s trying to figure out who this strange man is?”
“I’m a Calder, just like you,” Chase stated. “And I’ve got a heap of stories to tell you—like those horns above the fireplace mantel. They belonged to an old brindle steer named Captain.”
Listening to him, Trey was reminded of all the times he’d been told the story of that first cattle drive to Montana. Now his son would hear all the legends and lore of the Calders. The sense of continuity was a good feeling.
Laredo drifted over to him, feigning an interest in the sight of the youngest and oldest Calder together. In an overtone he asked, “Everything go all right after I left?”
“It went fine.” Curiosity made Trey ask, “How long have you been back?”
“About an hour. Jessy had Jobe Garvey come get me.” Refusing to be diverted, Laredo returned to his primary concern. “So the law bought the story that Donovan went on a rampage?”
“Why not? That’s what happened.” Just for a moment, Trey met the other man’s gaze—calm, cool, and sure in his lie.
“Right.” Laredo smiled to himself.
Cat bustled into the den, clutching a bottle of infant formula in her hand. “I warmed the bottle for Jake,” she rushed, then paused, half disappointed to see him lying content in Chase’s arms. “I thought he’d be hungry by now.”
“What d’ya say, little guy?” Chase asked. “Are you ready for a drink?” The response was a forceful coo and a waving of a fist that drew chuckles all around. “I think that was a ‘yes,’” Chase declared.
With some reluctance Cat surrendered the bottle to him, then gathered herself. “You two must be hungry, too. I’ll go make you a quick lunch.”
As she started to leave, the phone rang. Cat automatically turned to answer it, saying, “I’ll get it,” but Laredo waved her off and stepped to the desk, picking up the phone. “Calder ranch.”
“May I speak to Mr. Calder, please?” A male voice requested.
“Who’s calling?” Laredo was instantly wary.
“My name’s Allen Forrester, a reporter with—”