Stolen Heritage (Historical Christian Romance)

by Barbara Goss

  "The next time Flower conceived, all Yellow Bird's attempts failed, and the baby survived. I was thrilled to have a baby brother. Then, the very day of his birth, Yellow Moon smothered him. She thought no one saw. How could I love a woman who could kill a helpless baby?”

  Jeremy patted her hand. “You're trembling. You don't have to tell any more. I understand.”

  “Thank you for listening,” she said, feeling a bit embarrassed, as if she'd burdened him with too much of her life.

  “And God has also answered the part of your prayer about sending someone to love you, because now you have many who love you.”

  She looked up at him. “I do?”

  He smiled. “If I don't get you home, your father won't love me too much, will he?”

  Jeremy gently moved the wagon forward. When they reached the ranch house, he helped Laurel down and walked her to the door. “I want you to be very careful. Stick close to your father, if possible. Don't trust Ram or Ada. If you need help, I've arranged to have Manuel available. Maggie knows how to contact him.” He paused and said sadly, “Just as she knew how to find Dusty.”

  “Then you'll come right away?”

  “I won't be here for a few days. That's why I'm so concerned. I'm riding to Fort Sill to get help in stopping Ram and his friends.”

  “How long will you be gone?”

  “I hope only a week.” He slapped a knee suddenly. “And I forgot your surprise!” He returned to the wagon and came back with a small wooden crate covered with a cloth.

  “What is it?” Laurel asked, gazing at the crate in puzzlement.

  “Look.” Jeremy folded one end of the cloth so she could peek inside.

  “Oh!” she gasped. “Smoky! With everything happening, I'd forgotten him! Thank you, Jeremy!” She leaned forward to kiss his cheek, but Smoky and his cage blocked the way. Jeremy quickly set the crate down, and their embrace fell into place naturally.

  It took every bit of Laurel's good sense to pull away from the strange sensations that coursed through her. No contact with another person had ever made her feel this way. Naturally she longed to cling to Jeremy and squeeze him tight.

  Later, curled beneath her blankets with Smoky, Laurel wondered if her good sense had proved best. What would it have felt like to be squeezed tightly by Jeremy Grant? Goose bumps made her snuggle deeper within her covers. Had Jeremy felt the same sensation?

  A sudden noise broke into her romantic thoughts. She turned quickly toward the sound. The French doors! Even Smoky's ears twitched toward the noise. The moonlight brightened the room just enough to allow her to see the doorknob turn slowly. Had she locked the doors? Laurel's heartbeat seemed to rock the entire bed.

  Footsteps sounded, moving away, and the thump of someone leaping over the balcony filled her ears.

  Clutching Smoky to her chest, Laurel shivered. Who had tried to get into her room? Why? Would the intruder try again?

  Chapter 13

  A morning breeze caressed Laurel's face, causing her to wake in alarm. The first sight that met her eyes was the open French doors. She sat up quickly, searching for Smoky. Temporarily blinded by bright sunshine, she swung out of bed, but could only stand, frozen, on the bare floorboards. Shielding her eyes, she gazed out. Suddenly a gray streak burst through the doors and skidded to a stop at her feet.

  Smoky! She knelt to scoop him up. He purred a greeting. But who had let him out? She walked onto the balcony and all her built up tension came out in an uncontrollable laugh. “Grandmother,” she said between giggles, “whatever are you doing on the balcony floor?”

  There before her, Maggie lay on her stomach, swinging a piece of red yarn. Slightly embarrassed, the older woman stood and brushed herself clean. She shrugged, patted the cat, and walked into the bedroom.

  Laurel followed, still giggling. “I'm glad you like Smoky, Gram.”

  Maggie nodded with a smile.

  “Perhaps you could knit him a few toys.” Laurel set Smoky down beside dishes of water and food. “I see you fed him, too.”

  Maggie nodded, stroking the kitten's back.

  “Gram, did you try my balcony door from the outside last night, to see if I had locked it?”

  Maggie shook her head, her eyes questioning.

  “It was probably Ada. Pay it no mind,” Laurel added lightly. She didn't want Maggie worrying. “Give me two minutes, and I'll have breakfast with you,” Laurel threw the words over her shoulder as she hurried to dress.

  When she returned to her room after her breakfast, Laurel opened the door and out flew Smoky. He scampered down the long hall and Laurel scurried after.

  Reaching the living room, Laurel looked about her. Where did that cat go? If I don't find him, or if Ada or Ram finds him first. . . . Laurel dared not finish the thought.

  A long hall ran along the opposite side of the house— probably, thought Laurel, where Ada and Ram's rooms were. She peered down the hall, and there, near one of the closed doors, pranced Smoky, stalking a housefly. Laurel reached out and grabbed him just as he prepared to spring on the insect. She managed to stifle his meow of disappointment. As she turned to sneak back to her room, voices caused her to freeze.

  Ada's words floated through the closed door. “So what? Angus has every right to change his will. Why are you so concerned?”

  “Mother, his daughter will inherit everything!”

  Ram's voice! Laurel bit her lip, remembering the trouble her listening in on him caused the last time. Yet her feet refused to carry her from the door.

  “Angus wouldn't do that!” Ada argued. “He's a good man. He said he wouldn't, and I believe him!”

  “You discussed this with him? Then you knew he'd sent for his lawyer!” Ram demanded.

  “We discussed it last night. He said it was necessary to make a new will now that he knew Laurel was alive. I agree. She is, after all, his daughter. I’m sure he’ll remember both of you in his will.”

  “She'll get the ranch, I bet. What, my sweet, gullible mother, do you think you'll get for all your trouble?”

  “Trouble? What trouble? Angus treats me fine. I live in a nice home and want for nothing. I never would have survived if he hadn't married me and helped me rear you.”

  “And you've been an excellent wife and deserve better. Just what does he plan to give you?”

  Ada sighed and answered with obvious reluctance, “Half.”

  “Half?” Ram asked mockingly. “Half of what?”

  “Half of all his money.”

  “What about the ranch?” Ram yelled.

  “She gets the ranch and the other half of the money. He has promised you five acres of land.”

  Ram swore a mild oath, his voice closer to the door. “Five Acres??? Why did his daughter have to show up and spoil everything?”

  “I’m satisfied, Ram,” exclaimed Ada. “Do you have any idea how much money Angus has? We won't need this old ranch!”

  “How much,” Ram began, and then he stopped midsentence. Laurel's throat tightened. Why had he stopped talking?

  When Ram began sneezing, Laurel fled, squeezing Smoky tightly to her chest. Up one hall, through the living room, and down the other hall, she scurried until she finally stood before her own door. Looking about, she saw no one and silently slipped into the bedroom.

  “Oh, Smoky, you almost did us in!” she murmured, kissing his head. “But we're more hated here than I'd thought. Whatever will we do? I'm afraid we're in more danger now than before. We must obey Jeremy and stick close to Angus.”

  Locking Smoky safely in her bedroom, she walked to her father's room, thinking he might enjoy a checker game. But when she prepared to knock, she heard voices. She listened momentarily; through the thick wood, she could only hear a strange man's voice. His lawyer, probably, she reasoned. He's changing his will just as Ram said.

  Returning to her own room, she worried and paced. This will never do. I'll go for a walk. I won't go far, just get some fresh air.

  Leaving Smoky curl
ed up in a chair, fast asleep, she closed the French doors behind her, swung her legs over the balcony rail, and dropped down—right into Ram's arms!

  “Excuse me!” she cried pushing away from him, but his strong arms kept her against him.

  Finally, he loosened his hold and laughed. “Where are you going in such a hurry? I've had many women chasing after me, but none has ever thrown herself at me quite so boldly!”

  Laurel stamped her foot. “I was not throwing myself at you!”

  “You needn't protest so fiercely. I was teasing.” A swath of wavy hair casually fell on his forehead. He smiled boyishly. “If you're going for a walk, may I join you?”

  Laurel thought him arrogant, boorish, and rude. She no longer cared to be polite. “I think not,” she spat and turned to walk along the creek.

  Following her, he grabbed her elbow, bringing her back to face him. His phony smile faded. “Why do you dislike me?” His menacing eyes bored through Laurel. She no longer saw the handsome, charming Ram, but a wild, desperate man. “That first day I saw you by the creek, where were you coming from?”

  Laurel shrugged his hand off her elbow and pretended to smooth imaginary wrinkles from her yellow dress, gaining her time to think. “A walk,” she answered simply.

  “You were coming from the same direction I was. You went as far as the shanty didn't you?” he demanded.

  “Yes,” she admitted innocently. “I saw a shanty, decided I'd wandered too far, and turned around and headed back. Why should that concern you? Are you hiding something?”

  “Why do you dislike me?”

  “You're conceited and arrogant.”

  “Let me tell you something, Laurel. I've been charming women my whole life. I've yet to find one I couldn't charm. Until you, that is. What makes you immune? Have you heard something about me?”

  “As a matter of fact, I have.” Laurel's mind raced to invent something.

  “What?” he demanded fiercely, grabbing her elbow again.

  “Let go of my arm,” she demanded, “or my father will hear of this. You have no right to touch me.” Ram dropped her arm promptly. “You don't scare me, Ram Atwood. I have my father's protection. You can’t harm me.”

  “What did you hear about me?” He scowled.

  “Melita told Flora Grant that you had a wild streak that she thought untameable. That's all I heard."

  “And you hate me for that?” he asked.

  “I didn't begin hating you until this afternoon. You have no right treating me this way.”

  Ram dropped his arms and sighed. “You're absolutely right. I don't know what got into me. Will you forgive me?” He looked at her sadly, switching to his boyish charm.

  “I suppose, but don't let it happen again.” She again turned to walk beside the creek.

  “Can't we be friends?” he called.

  “All right, we're friends,” she called back. “Good-bye.” Laurel disappeared around the first bend of the creek.

  She ran to her rock and perched atop it. Breathing deeply to relieve her tension, she wondered, had she gotten the best of Ram Atwood? Did he believe her story about turning around when she came to the shanty? Despite her predicament, Laurel felt elated, because she guessed Ram's new plan: Charm the rancher's daughter, marry her, and inherit it all. Perhaps it was not such a bad situation. If she played her part correctly, it would keep her alive—at least until Jeremy returned. I mustn't act too anxious to be courted by Ram, or he'll be suspicious, she cautioned herself. If I suddenly fall for his charm, he'll know my game. He knows I dislike him, so my conversion must be slow. Laurel hugged her knees, suddenly frightened. She remembered Dusty. This was not a game, this was real and dangerous. She closed her eyes and prayed for God's help and protection.

  The next two days went as Laurel predicted, and she played mouse to Ram's cat. Did she measure herself properly, not giving in or holding back too much? To be on the safe side, she obeyed Jeremy by sticking close to her father, whose company she'd grown to love. He seemed to love her more each day; Laurel thrived on that fatherly love and loved Angus McCallister dearly in return.

  Playing with Smoky, after breakfast one morning, Laurel was interrupted by a knock. She opened her door a tiny crack so Smoky would not dart out and found Ada standing stiffly before her.

  “Excuse me. Melita Coopersmith is here to see you. Will you see her in the living room or here?”

  “She's here to see me?” Laurel asked, surprised.

  “Yes.”

  “I'll see her here,” Laurel replied.

  While Ada went to get Melita, Laurel dashed around the room, straightening her belongings. She neatened her hair before her mirror and pushed Smoky out onto the balcony. Smoothing the front of her gray cotton dress, she puffed up the lacy sleeves and waited for Melita.

  Laurel answered the knock immediately, invited the stylishly dressed woman into the bedroom, and offered her a seat.

  Melita smiled sweetly and gazed about the room. “A lovely room for a lovely lady.”

  “Thank you. How may I help you?” she asked, not sure if she should trust this woman, who Laurel felt still wanted Jeremy Grant.

  Removing the plumed hat that matched her mint-green silk dress, Melita spoke softly, “Actually, I thought perhaps I'd come to help you.”

  Laurel looked at the bright-haired woman in puzzlement. “I don't understand.”

  “You see,” Melita continued, removing her white gloves, “I figured by now you needed a friend.”

  “A friend?”

  “Yes. It must be difficult coming here from Oklahoma and knowing so few people. Ada isn't the warmest person, and Maggie can't speak. I thought you might need a female to talk to. Flora seems to think highly of you, so I decided to offer my friendship. Will you accept it?”

  Laurel studied Melita's eyes carefully. The blond woman's eyes didn't waver but returned Laurel's intent gaze evenly. Melita Coopersmith passed the old Indian test of eye contact, but a shiver passed down Laurel's spine. Something didn't add up here; should she trust her?

  “I’ll accept your friendship, if it's indeed sincere.” Laurel's glance became sharp.

  Suddenly, Melita's eyes filled with tears, and she broke eye contact. She drew out a handkerchief and held it to her nose. “I'm sincere, but not truly sincere!” she cried, more tears flowing.

  Laurel dropped to her knees before Melita. “Whatever is the matter? And how can you be sincere but not truly sincere?”

  “Ram sent me, but I would have come anyway. I had planned on it. He wants me to—” she broke into tears again.

  “Melita,” pleaded Laurel, “please calm down. Whatever the trouble is, we can work it out together. Don't cry.” Laurel felt totally helpless. She had absolutely no experience interacting with women other than Comanche.

  Finally, Melita blew her nose and composed herself. “I’m sorry, Laurel. Can you bear with me?” When Laurel nodded, she continued. “Please answer one question first. When I know where you stand, I can tell you more.”

  “Ask me anything,” Laurel said, sitting on the sofa beside her.

  “It’s extremely personal, but I need an honest answer. It's important, otherwise I wouldn't think of asking—”

  “Ask. It's fine.” Laurel assured her.

  After nervously playing with her handkerchief, Melita looked into Laurel's eyes and asked, “Are you in love with Ram?”

  Chapter 14

  “What?” Laurel cried, stunned by the question.

  “Are you interested in Ram, romantically?” Melita asked.

  Laurel pondered her answer. If she said no, and Melita told Ram, she would have given herself away. If she said yes, she'd be lying. Could she trust Melita? If Melita did tell Ram that she wasn't romantically interested, Laurel reasoned, it wouldn't matter this early in the game anyway. So she decided to be truthful, “No.” she stated positively.

  Melita sighed with relief. “Yet it took you so long to answer. Are you sure?”

  �
�There were other reasons for my hesitation,” Laurel explained. “May I ask why you wanted to know?”

  “Certainly,” Melita said anxiously. “You see, I'm hopelessly in love with Ram. When I say hopelessly I mean just that. I know Ram is a charmer and a manipulator, but I love him anyway. I can't help myself. I realize he doesn't return my feelings, and that he uses me. But I don't care, as long as it puts me close to him.” She shook her head. “It's probably difficult for you to understand, but that's how I feel.”

  “I can't ignore what he wants to do now. Because I love him, I have to keep him from doing this.” Her expression darkened with an unreadable emotion. “I know, you must think me crazy. Maybe I am, crazy… I must be!”

  Melita dabbed at her damp blue eyes. “For some time I've been reporting Jeremy Grant's army business to Ram. It never actually seemed to harm anyone, but it made me important to Ram. I love the Grants, and I told myself my spying didn't hurt them.

  "Jeremy wrote so much in his letters, with only a bit of prompting, and I passed them all on to Ram. When Jeremy was home, I even stooped so low as to go through his desk and papers for Ram. If Jeremy had ever set a wedding date, I wondered if Ram would have made me marry him. Even now I'd do anything to be near Ram. He has some type of unexplainable hold on me, I know, but I can't resist him.”

  Laurel patted Melita’s shoulder compassionately.

  Melita sniffed into her handkerchief and continued. “Dusty's death woke me up. I'm not sure, but I think Ram may have had something to do with killing Dusty.” Melita's tears flowed down her fair cheeks again. “It all happened because of information I passed on to him. Though I can't change what happened to Dusty, I can keep it from happening again to you.

  “Today Ram had the nerve to ask me to persuade you to like him. Your father changed his will, leaving the ranch to you. Ram plans to marry you for the ranch. If you don't cooperate, he plans an accident for you.” Melita dabbed at her eyes again.