Free Santa In Montana by Janet Dailey Page B

moment before he answered. “That Rogers guy.” He raised his cup to his mouth and took a long sip from it.
    â€œWhat about him?”
    His shoulders shifted in an idle shrug. “Out of the blue, this guy calls Chase and invites himself here. Claims he wanted to see the ranch.”
    â€œWhat’s so unusual about that?”
    â€œNothing,” Laredo agreed, then met her glance. “It’s funny though, the whole time he was here, he never budged from the house.”
    â€œHow could he with all the snow we have?”
    He dismissed that excuse with a quick shake of his head. “No. Something tells me he had another reason for coming here.”
    â€œYou don’t really think he wants to cause us trouble,” Jessy said with open skepticism.
    â€œEven you have to admit something doesn’t smell right.”
    â€œNot to your nose,” she countered.
    â€œHave it your way.” As usual, Laredo didn’t argue and simply pushed his chair back from the table. “But I’ll take odds that we haven’t seen the last of him.”
    Jessy stood up. “I think you’re forgetting that he’s the son of a long-time family friend.”
    â€œThat’s what Chase said, too.” But he remained unswayed by the fact.
    She started to remind him that Chase wouldn’t lie, then caught back the words. It was Laredo’s nature to be suspicious of anyone he didn’t personally know. His instincts were usually right, but this was one case where time would prove him wrong. Jessy was sure of it.

Chapter 4
    Moonlight glistened on the snow pack that edged the ranch yard and turned the exposed and rutted ground a deep black. Bundled against the night’s chill, Sloan emerged from the Homestead and crossed to the steps. There, she paused to scan the yard for any movement that might indicate Trey was on his way back.
    All was still. She focused her attention on the old barn and the light that showed in one of its small windows. Down the steps she went and struck out for the old heavy timbered barn. The cold air nipped at her skin and turned each exhalation of breath into a steamy vapor. Automatically Sloan quickened her steps to reach the barn’s promised warmth.
    The temperature inside the barn was a good ten degrees warmer. Sloan noticed the change the instant she stepped inside. At almost the same instant she spotted Trey’s familiar tall frame as he stepped out of a stall halfway down the wide alleyway.
    â€œHey, there,” she called out softly when he swung back to close the door behind him.
    His head turned her way, the brim of his hat shadowing his eyes, but his smile of welcome was clear to see. “This is a nice surprise.”
    â€œI thought it might be.” She crossed to his side and let his encircling arm draw her against him. “Jessy said you’d come down here to check on an injured horse.”
    Her side-glance took note of the stall’s occupant, a yearling filly currently nosing at the hay in its manger. The thickness of the animal’s winter coat dulled its sorrel color and almost hid the scattering of cuts along its withers and hips.
    â€œWhat happened to her?” Sloan asked.
    â€œSomehow she broke through the ice down at the river,” Trey replied. “When the boys took hay out this morning, they found her, soaking wet and blood oozing from a half dozen cuts.”
    â€œBut how did she get cut up like that?” Sloan frowned.
    â€œIce can be as sharp as a razor. But she has one nasty gash that’s a little too deep and ragged to be from ice,” he explained. “If I had to guess I’d say she probably got it from a submerged tree limb. She’ll be fine. So, have you got Jake all tucked in for the night?”
    â€œAll tucked in, and he’s sound asleep. I thought about going through the photos I took at Wolf Meadow yesterday to start compiling an inventory list, then I decided