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“Maybe,” Culley conceded, unconvinced, “but it don’t explain the Smiths.”
“No, it doesn’t, does it,” she said, a new awareness of that dawning in her green eyes. An instant later both heard the sound of a vehicle pulling into the ranch yard. Cat immediately groaned. “It’s probably Tara. When I talked to her yesterday, she said she might stop by this morning.” But when she looked out the window, it wasn’t Tara she saw coming up the walk. “It’s Monte,” she said in surprise and hurriedly brushed at the dusting of white flour on her blouse. “I wonder what he wants.” The rhetorical question was addressed to Culley, but when she turned to look, he had already slipped out the back door.
It was so typical of him to avoid casual contact with people he didn’t know well that Cat simply shook her head in amusement and went to the front door to welcome her unexpected visitor. Monte rapped lightly on the screen door just as she reached it.
“It’s a surprise to see you out and about this morning, Monte.” Cat pushed the door open. “Please come in.”
He hesitated. “I haven’t come at an inconvenient time, have I?”
“Not at all.”
With an idle lift of his hand, he motioned in the direction of the barn before entering. “Is that Quint I see at the corral?”
“Yes. He’s doing some groundwork with our Appaloosa colt. It’s his summer project.”
“Isn’t he a bit young to do that by himself?” A slight frown creased Monte’s high forehead.
“Usually I supervise, although he doesn’t really need anyone. Besides, my father would tell you a child is never too young to assume responsibility.” Her nose told her the cookies were done. Cat moved toward the kitchen, saying over her shoulder, “Excuse me a minute. I have a batch of cookies in the oven that need to come out.”
Monte sniffed the air. “Ah, that’s what that delectable aroma is.” He trailed after her into the typically large and roomy ranch kitchen. “It reminds me of my schoolboy days when I used to snitch biscuits from the cook’s larder.”
“Biscuits are what you Brits call cookies, aren’t they? I almost forgot that.” Cat went directly to the stove and slipped on the insulated mitt she had left on the counter.
“Indeed they are.” Monte bypassed the long wooden table with its ladder-backed chairs and wandered over to the old rolltop desk in the alcove off the dining area. “What a marvelous old desk. Is it a family heirloom?”
“No. As a matter of fact, I think Logan told me he found it at a used-furniture store in Miles City.” Cat removed the baking sheet from the oven and set it atop the stove. She smiled when she noticed Monte examining the desk’s many pigeonholes. “When Quint was younger, he was fascinated by all its little nooks and drawers.”
“Does it have any hidden compartments?” he wondered. “I know many of these old desks do.”
“None that I know about.” With a spatula, Cat removed the hot cookies from the sheet, one by one, and placed them on a wire rack to cool. “I have some coffee made if you would like a cup. Or I can brew you some tea.”
“Regrettably I can’t stay that long. I have an appointment in town. I only stopped to see if you have any plans for this coming Sunday. So many things have happened lately that forced the postponement of the dinner I planned to host for all of you. Perhaps it isn’t appropriate now, so soon after Sally’s funeral, but I concluded there may never be a proper time so I have decided to have it Sunday—assuming everyone is available, of course.”
Tensing a little, Cat kept her back to him. The prospect of spending a social afternoon in Jessy’s company still wasn’t a comfortable one. She had said some harsh things to her, and Cat hadn’t yet decided that she wanted to retract them.
“I don’t think we have anything on the calendar, but I probably should check with Logan before I commit to coming.” She bounced a glance off Monte as she slipped another sheet of cookies into the oven. “Is it all right if I call you tomorrow and let you know?”
“Tomorrow will be fine.” He drifted away from the desk. “I have yet to speak to Jessy, but I plan to phone her this afternoon. Therefore, nothing is definite yet.”
“I understand.” Privately Cat hoped Jessy wouldn’t be available.
“Your . . . uh . . . cookies . . . smell delicious.” His hesitation over the word choice was deliberate, edged with a smile. “As much as I would like to stay and indulge in such a treat, I really must be going.”
“I hope you stop by again when you can stay longer.” In preparation for walking him to the door, Cat slipped off the mitt and laid it on the counter.
But when she started toward him, Monte lifted a detaining hand. “There’s no need for you to accompany me. I can find my way out.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know about the dinner,” Cat promised.
He inclined his head in acknowledgement and exited the kitchen. Listening to his footsteps make their way to the front door, Cat swung back to the counter, slipped the mitt on again and picked up the still-warm cookie sheet to spoon more dough onto it. By the time she had the next batch ready for the oven, Monte’s vehicle had pulled out of the yard.
When she turned to check on the ones in the oven, she was startled to see Culley standing there. “Good Lord, you scared me,” she said with a half-laugh. “I thought you had left.”
“I didn’t go far.” The hardness in his eyes was a little disconcerting.
In that instant Cat realized he had stayed close to protect her, unwilling to leave her alone with a man he didn’t know. “You were in the utility room, weren’t you?” she guessed.
