Baritone whispers stilled when she neared the fountain where Abel and Tom stood.
Tom wore denim jeans today and a white shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He didn’t wear a hat, and the sun glistened on the black strands of his hair.
Both men turned at her approach.
“I’d like to speak to Mr. Graves as soon as possible,” she said.
Tom crossed his arms. “What’s your hurry?”
She sighed, then glanced at Abel, unsure of whether she should speak in front of the gardener.
“Abel knows how to hold his tongue,” Tom said.
“All right then,” Katie said. “I think Sarah Jane is his great-granddaughter. And when he sees her, he’s going to believe it, too.”
“I agree,” Tom said.
“Does that mean you’re going to bring her here?”
“Not until I’m sure she’ll live to see her seventh birthday.”
Katie’s stomach clenched. “If you don’t think she’ll be safe, then you shouldn’t bring her back here at all.”
“That’s still left to be seen.”
“What are you waiting for?” she asked.
“There’s a man I want to talk to.”
“Who?”
Tom paused, as if he wasn’t sure if he trusted her with the information. “Jeremiah Haney.”
“Is he related to Randolph?”
“They’re father and son.”
“Then I’ll look forward to meeting him.”
Tom grasped her arm, his fingers tightening into her flesh, and his eyes narrowed. “Stay away from him. I don’t want you getting involved in this.”
Katie lifted her chin. “I’m already involved. In fact, Randolph Haney has invited me to attend the Cattleman’s Ball with him and Jeremiah tonight.”
Tom’s gaze locked on hers. “You’re a stubborn woman, but you’d better not cross me on this.”
“I told you before, obedience doesn’t sit well with me.”
“It had better when the order is mine.”
Katie tried to twist and pull her arm free of his grip, but her efforts didn’t succeed. When she stopped struggling, he finally released her.
“Don’t try to bully me.”
“Then don’t cross me.”
She folded her arms, facing off with him. “Or what will happen?”
“I’ll haul you back to Hannah’s—pronto. And I’m not opposed to binding your hands and feet and throwing you over my shoulder.”
“That sounds rather savage,” she said.
His expression hardened. “Consider it this warrior’s attempt to be civilized.”
Abel shuffled his feet as a slow grin formed on his wrinkled face. “Don’t worry, señorita. He only jokes with you. Lone Wolf doesn’t mean it.”
Tom turned to the old man. “You might not think I’m serious, Abel, but if she doesn’t watch her step, she’ll be riding over the rump of a mare all the way back to Pleasant Valley.”
Katie unfolded her arms and slapped her hands on her hips. “The only steps I intend to watch are the ones that lead me within an arm’s reach of Mr. Lone Wolf.”
Tom’s dark eyes narrowed as he returned his attention to Katie, making her wonder if she might have gone a bit too far. She hadn’t meant to mock his Indian roots, but she sometimes didn’t temper her words when angered.
Nevertheless, she turned on her heel and marched off. But instead of heading for the kitchen, where Randolph Haney was sure to say something to catch her off guard, she rounded the house and went to the courtyard, using the main entrance instead.
As she headed for the hallway toward the bedroom she’d been assigned, Harrison Graves shuffled out of one of the rooms.
His surprise at running into her rivaled her own at seeing him.
Did she dare speak to him now?
She might have, had her tongue not suffered momentary paralysis.
“Good morning,” he said, his gaze never leaving her eyes.
Unable to waste time with formalities, she took a deep breath, then pressed on. “Mr. Graves, we haven’t been formally introduced, but I’m Katie O’Malley.”
“Yesterday wasn’t a good day.”
“I don’t suppose it was, but I’ve come a long way to speak to you. Would now be a good time to talk?”
“I suppose so. I’m not sure how many more days I can prolong anything. Let’s go into my study.”
Katie followed the elderly man down the hall and into an open doorway. With one liver-spotted hand upon his cane for balance, he used the other to motion toward the chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat, Miss O’Malley.”
“Please call me Katie.”
When she realized he continued to stand on wobbly feet, awaiting her compliance, she quickly pulled out a chair and sat down.
“What is it you have to say?” he asked, as he took his own seat.
“I have reason to believe your great-granddaughter is a little girl named Sarah Jane.”
“Is that what Caroline named her? Sarah Jane?”
“Yes. I’ve grown to love her and would like your permission to adopt her.”
Mr. Graves appeared to rally and gain both strength and control. “First of all, I haven’t yet met this child. Secondly, I’m not sure she really is my great-granddaughter. And thirdly, I don’t know you from Florinda Grimwood.”
“Florinda Grimwood?” Katie arched a brow. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with her.”
“Neither am I.” His smile began to loosen Katie’s taut nerves.
At least Harrison Graves had a sense of humor.
“Let me explain, Mr. Graves. I’ve been offered a teaching position in the Wyoming Territory, where women have the right to vote.”
“You’re a suffragist?”
“Yes. I believe women are the intellectual equals to men. I also believe that Sarah Jane has great potential. I promise to love her and educate her and allow her the freedom to nurture her own strengths and dreams.”
He seemed to think about that for a moment, although he didn’t argue. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?
“My solicitor worries that a charlatan might try to take advantage of my imminent death.” Mr. Graves glanced out the study window and into the garden. “It’s no secret that my holdings are vast and that the cattle industry is booming. My only heir, assuming it is the child in question, would be a very wealthy young lady—as would her guardian.”
“I don’t intend to live in Texas, nor do I want control of your estate. Perhaps you could place it in trust for Sarah Jane until she reaches adulthood.”
Harrison leaned his head against the back of his chair and crossed his arms. “The money doesn’t interest you?”
“Not at all. My father had a respectable law practice and holdings of his own, which I inherited. I’m not rich, but I’m quite comfortable. And although I have no intention of living in splendor, we won’t live in squalor, either. I’ll see to it that Sarah Jane will have plenty to keep her happy.”
He studied her for a moment, then said, “Randolph Haney insists I’m losing my mind, but I assure you, Miss O’Malley, I’m in full control of my faculties.”
“I don’t doubt that for a moment, sir. Place everything you want Sarah Jane to have into a trust until she comes of age. I don’t want a thing.”
“Thank you for your confidence, but I’m not about to give a child I’ve never met a penny. I’ve asked McCain to bring her to me. If there’s a resemblance, I’ll see it for myself.”
“And if you do see it?”
“I might allow you to live here and care for her.”
“Mr. Graves, that’s not at all what I had in mind.”
“I’m sure it isn’t.”
Katie took a deep breath. “Then I’ll just hope and pray that you d
on’t see any resemblance to my little girl. I’m not going to give her up.”
“Why do you call her your little girl?”
“Until today, I was the only one in the world who could offer her a proper home and stability, along with love.”
“You’re a stubborn woman, Miss O’Malley.”
“So I’ve been told.”
A slow smile warmed his wrinkled face. “Then I suppose we’ll continue this conversation when my alleged great-granddaughter arrives.”
It wasn’t quite what Katie had been hoping for—but it was certainly a start.
Chapter Ten
Katie hadn’t been in the house long before Abel began to chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” Tom asked.
“You are, mijo. Your fight isn’t with la señorita, it’s with yourself.”
“What are you talking about?”
The old man merely smiled. “Feelings like anger and love can be very strong. Sometimes it’s difficult to tell the two apart.”
“You’re loco. I have no feelings for her at all—other than pure exasperation.”
Abel laughed again. “Maybe you should kiss her and see if that clears things up.”
He had kissed her—twice. And each time it had only made things worse. In fact, last night, as she’d pulled him close, cloaking him in lilacs and lace, he’d nearly lost his head.
She’d certainly lost hers. Hadn’t she realized the risk she’d taken in kissing him? Thank goodness, he’d come to his senses and sent her back to the house.
“Señor McCain?” Maria asked from the wrought-iron gate.
Tom turned to the sound of her voice. “Yes?”
“Señor Graves would like to see you. He was having breakfast in his room when I left him, but he asked me to find you and have you meet him in his study.”
After asking Abel to excuse him, Tom followed Maria into the house. When she turned toward the kitchen, he made his way to the hall that led to Harrison’s study.
The door was closed, so he knocked.
“I’ll be with you in a minute,” Harrison said from behind the closed door.
“Take your time.” Tom shoved his hands in his pockets, then paced along the hall. His steps slowed near an oil painting of Robert Graves that hung over a small mahogany table.
Robert, who’d been fair-haired like Caroline, had been in his early twenties when that portrait had been painted. He’d been a good man, a kind soul. But he’d never stood up to his father. If he had, things might have been different.
He might have married Runs With Horses, the Indian woman he’d fallen in love with when he’d been nineteen. And if he had, Tom would have been legitimate—whether Harrison accepted him or not.
Several moments later, the door to the study opened and closed. Tom turned and watched Katie exit.
Well, what do you know? She’d wanted to talk to Harrison and had sought him out.
Their eyes met, but only for a moment. Unwilling to make a scene, Tom shook his head, then turned his back to her, refocusing his gaze on Robert’s portrait. Yet he couldn’t shake the urge to stomp after Katie and...
And what?
Give her another piece of his mind?
Kiss her into submission?
As her footsteps disappeared down the hall, Harrison’s voice sounded from behind. “I wasn’t a good father to him.”
Tom turned and watched as the old man shuffled through the doorway and into the hall, his cane tapping along with his steps.
“Robert died before I ever told him I was proud of him.” After a pause, Harrison added, “Or that I loved him.”
“I’m sure he knew,” Tom said, although he had no idea why he’d made such a claim. As far as Harrison Graves knew, Tom “Lone Wolf” McCain had never stepped foot on the Lazy G until he’d been summoned here just a couple months before.
Harrison shook his head. “No, I’m not sure that he did.”
Tom figured the old man wanted to talk, not necessarily converse, which was just as well. He’d waited a long time to hear what the old man had to say, even if the words were only addressed to the bounty hunter he’d hired and not to the boy he’d run off the Lazy G years ago.
“Would you like to go back to your study?” Tom asked.
“That’s probably a good idea. I’m not as strong these days, and I tire easily.”
As Tom followed the old man through the open doorway, Harrison added, “Funny thing about life. You spend each day as though it’s your last. Then one day you wake up and learn that it just might be. And you realize that you never got the chance to do half of the things you should have done.”
“What would you have done differently?” Tom asked.
“I would have taken my son to the swimming hole, tied a rope on an oversize branch, watched him swing and drop into the cool water. I would have taken my lovely granddaughter to town, proudly displayed her on my arm for all the world to see what a delightful young lady she’d become, what a quick wit and bubbly laugh she had.”
And now it was clearly too late to do any of that.
Harrison took a deep breath, then slowly let it out. “Do you believe in God, McCain?”
The question took Tom aback, but he answered, “Yes, I do.”
Harrison eased himself into the leather chair behind his desk. “Glad to hear it. You’ll find yourself standing in front of Him before you know it. And that’s a frightening thought for a man like me.”
“Why is that?”
“Every person God placed in my life, I either browbeat, took advantage of or abandoned.”
Sadly, the old man probably didn’t even know half of all the pain he’d caused, all the people he’d hurt—like Tom and his mother.
Harrison pointed to a shelf on the wall. “See that crude wood carving, next to the cigar box?”
Tom couldn’t make out what it was. “Yes, I see it.”
“Robert gave it to me for my birthday. He must have been about eight years old back then. Made it himself.”
It was nice to think that Harrison had given the carving a place of honor.
“I found it in his bottom drawer after he died,” Harrison added.
“But I thought you said it was a gift.”
“Oh, he gave it to me. I tossed the creation into the fireplace—or so I thought. The boy must have retrieved it afterward and kept it.”
Tom sat quietly, allowing the man to talk, to confess his guilt.
Harrison nodded toward a Saratoga trunk in the corner, a few feet from the bookshelf. “Do you see that?”
Tom nodded.
“I kept Caroline’s photographs hidden in a drawer for nearly six years. Didn’t want to see them. One evening after I drank myself into a senseless rage, I nearly burned them. Maria threw such a fit that I locked them up in that chest instead. But now I cherish her memory.”
“You told me that you’d show those pictures to me,” Tom said.
Harrison nodded. “So you could see if the child looks like Caroline.”
Tom didn’t need to see them, though. He’d never forget what Caroline had looked like as a child. And Sarah Jane favored her.
“You didn’t tell me the girl’s name was Sarah Jane,” Harrison said.
“Didn’t I?”
“No, your friend Katie O’Malley did.”
Tom hadn’t intentionally kept the news. “What does her name have to do with it?”
“My mother’s name was Sarah Jane.”
Tom hadn’t known that, but then, how would he? He’d never been privy to any of the Graves family stories. At least, not very many of them.
“Tell me about the girl,” Harrison said, his eyes hopeful yet leery.
Tom wasn’t sure what to tell him, other than to offer a physical description. “She’s six years old
, blonde and has large, expressive eyes.”
“What color are they?”
“Blue.”
“Like Caroline’s.” Harrison faced him, his gaze searching Tom’s. “Tell me about her heart, about her spirit. Did she get Caroline’s zest for life—or my stubborn streak?”
“She’s a beautiful child, inside and out.”
“I want to see her for myself. And I don’t have much time left. How long will it take for you to bring her back?”
“That’s the problem, Mr. Graves. I’m not sure if she’ll be safe in Stillwater.”
Harrison lifted a white eyebrow. “Why not?”
“She witnessed an assault back in Pleasant Valley. And the man tried to silence her.” He still didn’t want to mention that he also thought Caroline’s death was a little suspicious, especially when he didn’t have anything to base it on except a feeling.
“Surely you don’t think the girl would be less than safe here,” Harrison said. “I can close this place up like a fortress. No one can get to her.”
Tom was really stepping out on a limb, but he couldn’t help saying, “I haven’t ruled out the idea that it might actually be someone from Stillwater.”
“Who? And why?” Harrison’s brow knit, and he cocked his head. “You’re not suggesting Caroline’s death wasn’t an accident, are you?”
“I think a fall down the stairs is a little suspicious. I also know that she moved to several different towns over the last six years. She might have been running from someone.”
“I’ll double your pay if you find whoever may have killed her.”
“If her fall wasn’t an accident, I’ll find her killer—eventually.”
Harrison, who’d seemed frail just moments ago, steeled himself. “I may not be around long enough to see the culprit come to justice, but my solicitor will see that you get paid.”
“I’m not doing it for the money, so don’t worry about paying me. And I’d rather you didn’t mention anything to Mr. Haney.”
“Why is that?”
Tom and Harrison might have struck the first chords of respect and friendship, but he wasn’t ready to tell the man that his primary suspect was the man Harrison trusted most in this world.
The Rancher's Courtship & Lone Wolf's Lady Page 37