“No,” Philomena cried out, her hand now clinging to Harold’s and preventing him to rise. “He’s apologizing.” She gazed at the older man. “And doing a fine job of it.”
Peter glowered at his grandfather. “Sweet words aren’t going to take away the harm you did, Grandpa.”
Harold nodded, momentarily ignoring his grandson as he focused on Philomena. “Are we well?” At her quick nod, Harold attempted to rise to face his grandson. However, his ankle remained stiff, and he groaned as he put weight on it.
“Sit before you fall down,” Peter muttered, as he pressed on his grandfather’s shoulder and then sat on the bench, murmuring his thanks as Sorcha scooted down to give him space. He stared at the half-filled plate in front of Philomena, the pleading in her gaze, and then focused on his grandfather. “Well?”
Harold looked at his eldest grandson. “I’m sorry. I was a fool.”
“Why?” Peter asked, his jaw clenched. He ignored Frederick and Tobias, who had also entered the kitchen.
“I thought we were reliving the hell from all those years ago. Your uncle Tobias helped me to realize I was wrong. That instead of Katrina, I had refused to see how Philomena was like Irene. Like Tobias’s Ada.” He looked at his grandson with deep regret. “I’m so sorry, my boy.”
Peter remained quiet for a long moment. “I expected such words from Mother. Never from you,” Peter whispered, his voice filled with an immense pain. He clung to Philomena’s hand. “I thought you’d rejoice to have another grandchild. To know that another of your grandsons was happy.”
Harold looked at him. “I was. I am. Please, Peter.”
Peter looked at his wife and saw the answer he needed in her gaze. “I forgive you because my wife is generous and loving. But I won’t forget, Grandpa. I can’t.”
Nodding, Harold let out a deep breath. “I understand.” He pushed himself up, murmuring his thanks, when Frederick hooked an arm under his shoulder and helped him from the kitchen. Tobias slipped outside, and Sorcha left to look in on her bairns.
“Love?” Peter asked, staring deeply into his wife’s gaze. “Are you well?”
She nodded. “Yes. I want to forgive him, Peter, but I’m like you. I won’t forget. Not for a while.” She took a deep breath. “Does that make me a bad person? Morris always tells me my memory is too good.”
He smiled at her and traced a finger down her cheek. “No, that doesn’t make you a bad person. I’m only thankful you were as generous with me in your forgiveness.” He paused. “Thank you for allowing there to be the chance of harmony again in our family. I would never find my peace with Grandpa if I knew you were still at odds with him.”
She nodded, resting her head on his shoulder. “I want harmony too.”
Peter sat with Philomena, who had finished eating her late breakfast, quietly chatting with her about the ranch. He planned on showing her his favorite places during the next few days, before they had to return to town. Her fingers played with his, and she glanced to the door, freezing when she saw Irene and Harold waiting to enter.
At Philomena’s subtle nod, Irene entered, Harold a step behind her. Ignoring Peter, Irene moved to her newest granddaughter, taking her by both shoulders and giving them a gentle squeeze. “Forgive my husband’s misguided loyalty. He was blinded by fear.” Her gaze was filled with sadness and regret.
“I do,” Philomena whispered, one hand reaching up to hold Irene’s hand, the other reaching out to Harold. “I forgive you. I promise.”
“I swear, if I’d known he’d been such a blockhead, I’d have knocked sense into him sooner,” Irene said, casting an exasperated, yet loving glance in her husband’s direction.
Philomena nodded.
“Now there’s one more thing,” Irene said, as she stared deeply into Philomena’s gaze. “You have nothing to prove.” She waited a long moment as the silence became pronounced in the kitchen.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Philomena finally whispered.
Irene raised one hand, silky soft, to cup Philomena’s cheek. “I think you do, dear child. You believe, if you act a certain way or do little to offend, you’ll prove you are what we’d always hoped for Peter. What you need to realize, right now, is that I could never have hoped for such a wonderful woman for my Peter. You’ve shown him love, loyalty, and constancy. I could never wish for more.”
Irene looked at Peter, who smiled and nodded at his grandmother.
Philomena rose, first to give Irene, and then Harold, a hug. “I’ve always wanted grandparents,” she whispered.
Harold held her an extra moment, squeezing her tight. “And I always longed for granddaughters.” He swiped at her cheeks, his eyes filled with tenderness. “I’m more embarrassed than I can say, Philomena.”
“You love Peter,” she whispered.
“I do. And I loved my son, but it’s no excuse for how I treated you.” He sighed. “Thank you for being generous and for forgiving a foolish old man.”
Although a fragile peace had been forged when Harold had first apologized, now Philomena had the sense that they had the chance for true harmony. “We’re family,” she murmured. “We forgive and love with abandon.” She smiled at her husband, as Harold held her in his arms.
That afternoon Peter worked in the barn with Frederick, Dalton, and Shorty. Although Peter enjoyed his time at the café, he realized he also missed the hard physical labor required on the ranch. “I wish we could spend two weeks a month on the ranch and two weeks at the café,” he murmured to Frederick. “Take turns.”
Frederick chuckled. “You know that would never work. I have my way of doing things and you yours. The ranch would be in chaos before long. As would the café.”
Peter smiled. “Aye,” he murmured, having picked up that word from the MacKinnons. “Although I will have to close the café a few times a year to visit.”
“I’m counting on your help at both roundups every year,” Frederick said, with a smile. He sobered as he saw Slims stride into the barn, looking as though he had a nest full of wasps on his tail. “Slims?”
“Trouble, Boss,” he said, pointing outside.
Frederick set aside his pitchfork and walked out, Peter beside him. “Mother,” they hissed in unison. “What in God’s name is she doing here?”
“And why would she ever believe herself welcome?” Peter asked, with a shake of his head. He stared at the woman sitting imperiously on a horse, demanding that someone aid her so she could dismount. “Should we?” he asked, as he stood with his hands on his hips, glancing for a moment at his brother, before glowering again at his mother.
“If we do, we may never get her back up there again,” Frederick muttered. “If I know anything, she is leaving.”
“We can always truss her up and put her in the back of a wagon,” Peter said. “I don’t like staring up at her, as though she were a queen.” At his brother’s grunt of agreement, Peter strode to her and lifted her off the horse. He released her the moment her feet touched the ground, as though afraid being in contact would cause his skin to erupt in boils.
“Peter, you always were such a good, responsible boy, unlike your brother,” Katrina said, raising her hand to pat his cheek. She frowned when he lurched away from her, so she couldn’t touch him.
“And you’ve always been unwelcome here,” he bit out. “Since you left.”
“I have every right to be where my family is,” she protested, looking around at the group that had now gathered to watch her return to the ranch. “This is my home after all.”
“No, your home is wherever your latest lover is,” Frederick said. He stood with Peter on one side and Slims on the other. Tobias, Dalton, Dixon, and Shorty stood behind them, a wall of support, with Ben, Harold, and Warren nearby.
“What a horrible thing to say to your mother.” She gasped, holding a hand to her heart. “If you knew how I’d suffered.”
“We don’t care, ma’am,” Peter interrupted. “You are nothing to us, and you never wi
ll be. You’ve managed to trick someone into giving you a horse, so you could ride out here.” He made a motion of her riding away. “Well, you can ride that horse back into town.”
“My own sons would never be so cruel to me,” she wailed, looking first at her boys and then at the stone-faced men glaring at her, cringing when she saw no sympathy. “How can you treat me in such a manner?” When none responded to her question, she held a hand to her forehead and stumbled. However, she fell to her knees, as none reacted to her act.
“I know how you feel about me,” Peter said in a low voice. “You wish I’d never been born. Why should I feel any differently about you?”
“Peter!” she gasped, her cheeks reddened. “I … I only meant …” Her voice faded, as she faltered in her attempt to concoct an excuse.
“Exactly, you only meant what you said. I’ve always known you disliked me. I will never forget your attempt to weasel your way back into my life and this family by using my bride. Then, when that didn’t work, by trying to ruin my marriage and attempting to tarnish my wife’s standing in the family. Say what you will about me, but never harm her.” His eyes shone with his rage, as he stood stiffly beside Frederick.
“Frederick,” she pleaded, after pushing herself to her feet. “This is my home. Don’t you want me to help you with your children?”
“Hell no.” Frederick’s face twisted, as though that were the worst idea he’d ever heard. “I want you as far away from them as possible, so you can’t taint them with your disloyalty and selfishness and cruelty.”
Katrina reached out, grabbing the bridle of the horse who stood beside her, earning a nicker in protest. “Tobias,” she called out in a pleading voice. “How can you be so silent and unfeeling? Don’t you regret the time we’ve spent apart?”
Tobias stood tall, his shoulders back and his head held high. “On the contrary, Kat, I regret every miserable minute with you. If I’d had half the sense I have now, I would have sent you packing when you knocked on my door.” He shook his head as he stared at her dispassionately. “You need to leave. You’re not welcome here nor in town.”
“Why should I leave?” She looked around at the well-built barn and the ranch buildings that highlighted a prosperous, well-run establishment. “I am a widow. I have partial ownership of this ranch. I demand what is justly mine!”
Warren stepped forward. “I find that interesting, ma’am,” he said in his mild, deferential tone, although his eyes glinted with mockery and distaste. “For I’ve seen the letter you wrote in your own hand, about detesting the ranch. Also I’ve spoken to all the hands and townsfolk who knew you when you lived here, and not one can remember you having an affinity for the place.”
“Lies!” she cried out, her gaze careening around, in an attempt to find a sympathetic witness.
“Well, ma’am, again I hate to disagree with you, but these are all upstanding, well-regarded citizens of our fine town. None can recall any abuse to your person. Although they recall plenty of instances where you abused those around you.” He paused, his eyebrows raised and his eyes glinting with challenge. “As for your purported ownership, you vocally renounced any such desire to be tied to this place various times.”
“Lies,” she gasped again.
“Not according to your own letters.”
Slims cleared his throat, standing with his weight on one hip, as he stared impassively at the woman who had caused so much turmoil. “If you recall, missus, you told me, ‘I’d gladly give up any right to this ranch if I could have one week of freedom.’” He paused, as she panted with her distress, gaping at him. “Seems to me, you’ve had more than a week. And you got what you wanted.”
She pointed at her sons, her hand quivering. “I am their mother. The grandmother of the children. I have … a responsibility.”
“That’s rich,” Peter said, with a snort. His blue eyes glowed with animosity, as he spoke in a lethally angry voice. “If you take your responsibility seriously, you will leave and never come back. Never bother us again. If you truly cared, at all, that’s what you’d do.”
Frederick nodded. “Leave, ma’am,” he barked. “Peter, Cole, and I own this ranch. You are not welcome here, and, if you return, you will be arrested for trespassing.”
She shook her head, quivering in shock. “How could this happen?” she asked. Then she added, “I can’t imagine riding. I’ll fall and injure myself. You’ll have my death on your conscience.” She looked at Peter and then to Frederick. “You wouldn’t really want me dead.” She blanched when she saw no softening in their expression at the thought of her demise.
Peter and Frederick stood stone-faced in front of her, unwilling to bend in their dictate that she leave and never return. They both feared, if they showed her an ounce of charity, she would dig her talons into them, and they’d never be free of her.
“Never fear,” Warren called, breaking the protracted silence. “My wife and I are returning today and have room for you in the back of the wagon.” He nodded at Dalton and Dixon, who left to prepare the wagon.
Peter approached his mother to speak with her privately. “Never come here again. Never bother Frederick again. Never approach Philomena again. Do what you like to me. Say what you like to me. But leave them and Cole alone.”
She stared at him in dazed torment. “How can I have lost you boys?”
“Easily. You abandoned our father and us more than two decades ago. You can’t have expected us to think fondly of you while you roamed the west with your new friends for all those years.”
She grabbed for his arm, which he easily sidestepped. “I have nowhere to go. No one to care for me.”
“That is none of my concern, ma’am,” he said in a low voice. “You should have considered that when you decided a dalliance was more important than your family.”
“You have no idea what misery is. How a soul can shrivel up and die on this harsh land.” She looked around her at the ranchland and the mountains in the distance. “For years, this has been the source of my nightmares.”
Peter glanced around him, seeing the beauty of the land, with the scattered cattle grazing on the rangeland amid tall brown grass that swayed in the soft breeze. A hawk soared overhead, swooping and diving, and the mountains beckoned in the distance. He saw home, rather than a prison. “Then I’m surprised you’d be so desperate to return,” Peter said, mocking irony in his voice.
“You don’t care to know how I suffered!” she hissed, glaring at Frederick, as he joined the conversation.
“No, we don’t,” Frederick snapped. “Because it’s always about you. What’s distressed you. What bothered you. Not once have you worried about us. About what your leaving did to us.”
She waved her hand around, brushing aside Frederick’s concern. “I knew you’d have your grandparents and your father to care for you. Who did I have?” She shook her head, as she held a hand to her heart. “No one!”
“You took our uncle!” Peter growled. “You ensured he was separated from us for years due to your betrayal.” He took a deep breath. “You are a woman who is incapable of feeling contentment. You will forever be dissatisfied by life. It’s our grave misfortune that you’re our mother.”
“All women are like me,” she said, with a hint of defiance. “They are just too stupid or too meek to admit it.”
Peter shook his head. “No, thank God, our wives are nothing like you. They are good, loyal women, who find joy in the lives we are building with them. We are fortunate we did not repeat the mistake our father made.” When he heard the sound of an approaching wagon, he stepped back.
Grabbing the bridle of the horse she had ridden out to the ranch, Peter moved to the rear of the wagon, tying the horse to it. “In,” he snapped to his mother. When she shook her head in defiance, Peter picked her up and set her inside. “You can get out, but I’ll put you back in again. And next time, I’ll truss you up, and then you’ll really have something to complain about.” He nodded with satisfaction wh
en she scooted toward the back of the wagon and settled.
Peter watched as Dalton and Dixon emerged to stand by the wagon to keep an eye on Katrina. With a snap of the reins, Warren and Helen took off with their unwanted passenger. The men gathered to ensure they rode off with Katrina down the long drive to the main road. With a nod, Peter murmured his thanks and walked away with Frederick. “Well, that’s over.”
Frederick slapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, big brother. I could have handled her on my own, but it’s nice to have your help.” He paused. “Ignore what she said in the past. I can’t imagine life without you, Peter.”
Peter smiled. “I will because I refuse to risk the promise of my future by embracing any of her beliefs.” He clapped Frederick on the shoulder, and the brothers returned to the house to see their wives and to chat with the family.
A few days later, a few of them gathered in the living room at the ranch. Philomena sat beside Harold, laughing as he told her stories about Peter when he was a boy. She shared an amused smile with her husband, as he flushed and ducked his head, after the story about falling off his horse into a pile of horse dung.
“Enough, Gramps,” Peter mumbled.
“I know Morris could regale you with embarrassing stories about me too,” Philomena said, her bright smile dimming, as she thought about her brother.
“Ah, don’t worry about him, darling girl,” Harold said, reaching out to hold her hand. “He’ll come around. Sometimes it takes longer than we’d like, but he’ll realize all he’s lost in you.”
Tobias sat beside Peter. “I hope you are as forgiving as my Jane was with me. Too often I’ve let hurts fester, when I would have been better off letting them heal.”
Peter grunted, yet nodded his agreement with that statement. “Grandpa, what were you and Warren discussing before he left?”
Harold smiled, a look of relief and pride in his countenance as he stared at his eldest grandson. “A new schoolteacher is arriving soon. Seems she was delayed a few weeks, but she’ll be here soon and will start school upon her arrival.”
Runaway Montana Groom: Bear Grass Springs Book 12 Page 20
