Calder Pride Read Online Free PDF Page A

the Triple C employees and their families had turned out en masse to pay their last respects to one of their own.
    Cat stood bareheaded and tearless behind the Taylors, a single red rose gripped in her hand. Deaf to the words of prayer the minister intoned, Cat stared at the coffin. The spray of flowers was entwined with a ribbon stamped with golden letters that spelled out OUR SON.
    There was none that said HUSBAND. The absence of it cut into her. She made no sound; a sharp hitch in her breathing marked the only change.
    Control was something she had learned in the last two days, control aided by a numbness that kept all emotion frozen deep inside. Just get through this day had become her watchword. Cat was careful not to look beyond it, inwardly knowing the future looked too bleak, too lonely and empty.
    Her father’s voice rumbled an “Amen” beside her. Realizing the prayer was over, Cat murmured a quick one herself. A pitch pipe sounded a note, and a quartet of male voices began singing “Shall We Gather at the River.” Others joined in the familiar hymn. Suddenly the service that had seemed unendurably long was over much too soon, and a quietly weeping Norma Taylor was led from her son’s casket.
    It was Cat’s turn. Numbly she stepped forward and placed the bright red rose, still in tight bud, atop the floral spray. Her fingers lingered an instant on the velvet petals. Then the pressure of her father’s hands guided her away from the grave and toward the Taylors. In wordless sympathy she embraced the woman who would have been her mother-in-law.
    “We all grieve with you,” her father said when Cat drew back.
    The woman made a sound that was near to a sob, then lifted her head, her eyes not focusing on either of them. “I can’t help thinking about Emma Anderson,” she murmured. “How awful this must be for her—with Rollie at fault in the accident and the authorities looking for her oldest boy. I feel so sorry for her.”
    Fury was a whip that lashed through Cat, spinning her around and driving her from the couple before she gave voice to it. She was still trembling with it when her father finally caught up with her.
    “How can she feel sorry for them?” Her voice vibrated with the effort to keep its volume low and her anger controlled. “How can she care what happens to them? Repp is dead, and Rollie Anderson killed him. Has she forgotten that?”
    “Of course she hasn’t.” Chase caught her arm, forcing Cat to stop. “But she also understands how difficult it would be as a parent to know your child is responsible for the death of another. Now it appears that the law is looking for Lath as well—”
    “Lath?” She frowned.
    “Yes, Rollie’s older brother. Evidently he’s in some sort of trouble. The sheriff and some government agent were at the farm a couple days ago to see if they knew where Lath is.”
    “They both belong behind bars for the rest of their lives.” Her voice thickened with the pain and anger that had woven itself through every tissue in her body. “Repp is dead because of the Andersons. And I hate them for it.”
    “Cat, don’t. Hate won’t bring Repp back. And revenge won’t make the pain any easier to bear.” Chase spoke from personal knowledge.
    Recognizing that, she turned to him, her greeneyes stark with grief. “How did you do it, Daddy? How were you able to go on living after Mother died?”
    “It wasn’t easy.” He had to be truthful. “Many times it still isn’t,” he admitted, seeing again his daughter’s strong resemblance to Maggie. Sometimes that helped. But sometimes it hurt.
    Ty and Jessy walked up, accompanied by the portly, cherub-faced Reverend Pattersby. Chase felt his daughter stiffen at the sight of the minister, and knew she was bracing herself for more murmured words of sympathy. Deciding she had heard enough, Chase spoke first, complimenting the man on his service.
    “Thank you,” Reverend Pattersby replied with a faintly pleased