by Zara Chase
“When Drew, Isaac, and I decided we wanted to be together, we know it would tear us apart if we didn’t have the approbation of our families.” Farah took another deep breath. “We’d already seen how both sides reacted to Tatum’s news, so we decided to do some digging. We wanted to see if we could find out what started the feud, so we could put an end to it.”
Both fathers snorted, but Farah ignored them.
“I went through our attics, Drew went through his, and we came up with some interesting stuff.”
“There’s nothing in ours about the origins of the dispute,” Farah’s father said. “I know because I’ve looked.”
“You didn’t look well enough, Daddy. I’ll show you where I found it later.” Farah glanced around the room. Every face was trained upon her in what seemed like strained anticipation. She had them spellbound. Now was the moment. “I’d like to introduce you to the person who started the feud,” she said.
Farah pressed a button on her laptop, the screen lit up and Mary-Ann’s picture filled the screen on the wall. Several people gasped.
“It’s Tatum in old-fashioned clothes,” Belinda Baldwin said, clapping a hand over her mouth.
“No, Mrs. Baldwin,” Farah replied. “That’s Tatum’s great-grandmother, Mary-Ann Baldwin.”
“That’s true,” Joseph said. “I’ve seen a few pictures of her before, but she had nothing to do with the feud.”
Farah said nothing. Instead she flashed up the next picture—one of the ones showing both great-grandfathers flanking Mary-Ann.
“That’s my grandfather,” Farah’s father said.
“And mine,” Joseph added. “What the hell trick do you think you’re playing, young lady?”
Chapter Seventeen
Everyone spoke at once. No one seemed to be listening to what anyone else had to say, but at least no one was threatening to leave. Farah called for their attention and they immediately quieted.
“Mary-Ann Pardoe was born in 1860. She was the only child of a Denver banker who was one of Lincoln’s main financiers during the Civil War. There’s your link to the war, Mr. Baldwin.”
Joseph sent her a damning look. “Got a crystal ball, have you?”
“Better than that. We found diaries, so we know what we’re saying is accurate.”
“It’s true, Dad,” Drew added. “You can see them later if you still doubt our word.”
“Mr. Pardoe and my great-great-grandfather were friends and business partners,” Farah told her spellbound audience. “Pardoe wanted Mary-Ann to marry my great-grandfather, and the couple became engaged. At the time, my great-grandfather Marcus and Drew’s great-grandfather, Oliver, were great friends. That much is obvious from this picture.” She pointed to the one of the threesome still on the screen. “They spent a lot of time in this cabin with Mary-Ann…” Farah paused, giving the bubble of excited voices a moment to subside. “This place was very special to them so it seemed fitting for us all to meet here today.”
“What happened?” Tatum asked. “Presumably something went wrong if Mary-Ann became my great-grandmother, not yours.”
“The three had decided that Mary-Ann would marry the man her father had chosen for her. She would become a McLean, but they would build a new house on this very site and the three of them would use it to meet out of sight of the world.”
“How romantic!” Sophie cried with a wistful sigh.
“Unfortunately Mary-Ann’s father happened upon Oliver Baldwin and his daughter in a compromising position. He went crazy and insisted that Mary-Ann marry Marcus immediately, which left poor Mary-Ann with a bit of a dilemma. She loved both men equally.” Farah paused and shared a glance with Drew and Isaac. “I guess most of us in this room can understand how she felt. The problem was, her life was no longer her own. Her father had gotten wind of what the three of them had planned to do and so she would have to tread much more carefully if she didn’t want to risk being disinherited. Her father was ill, and wasn’t expected to live much longer. In spite of the fact that he was so strict, she still loved him and didn’t want to upset him unnecessarily. If she was clever, she could have what she wanted and keep her father happy.”
Farah paused to take a sip of her wine. No one spoke, nor did either of the fathers try to dispute her findings. Their expressions had gone from borderline hostile to inquisitive. It was obvious they were as taken with her account as the younger generation, and so Farah hastened to exploit the advantage she’d created.
“Mary-Ann should have married my great-grandfather, then things would probably have been all right in the end. But according to her diaries, which you’re all free to read later, soft-hearted Mary-Ann decided that Oliver needed her more. The Baldwins weren’t as well off as the McLeans, and the money she took into the marriage could make all the difference to his prospects.”
“So McLean started the feud because the woman he loved jilted him,” Joseph said. “Just like I’d expect, the McLeans are bad losers.”
“Just a damned minute,” Farah’s father said, standing.
“No, it didn’t happen that way,” Farah replied hastily. “The three were still determined to see their plan through. Once her father died, Mary-Ann would inherit, save the Baldwins, and they’d carry on as planned, except Mary-Ann would be a Baldwin, not a McLean. My great-grandfather even stood as Baldwin’s best man. Listen to this.”
Farah read out the account from Mary-Ann’s diary that she, Drew, and Isaac had already read in private. Several of the ladies snuffled, and even the fathers looked suitably stricken.
“What went wrong?” Mason asked.
“They underestimated Mary-Ann’s father. Feelings about the war were still running strong, which Mary-Ann failed to take into account. He told his daughter that he’d disinherit her if she married a filthy Confederate, but she didn’t think he was serious. As it turns out he was. He also cultivated Marcus. Took him back to Denver and treated him like his own son. Marcus didn’t want to go, but his father insisted. Listen to this.”
“April 1861,” Farah read. “My father has ordered me to return to Denver with Pardoe and learn everything he can teach me about financial investments. I hate the thought of leaving Oliver and my beloved Mary-Ann, but it will probably be for the best. Her father suspects our secret pact and I can’t and won’t do anything to risk our future happiness. Besides, Mary-Ann is expecting Oliver’s child. I rejoice for them. Their child is my child. Nothing’s changed.
“We’ve arranged to exchange letters, addressing them to the saddler’s in town. He’s an old friend and can be trusted to act as our postmaster. We dare not correspond direct since we believe Pardoe has spies in both households.”
No one spoke when Farah stopped reading.
“There’s more,” she said.
“October 1861—I’m now back in Sanctuary, but would be anywhere else if I could be. Mary-Ann and Oliver didn’t reply to any of my letters. Their intention couldn’t be any clearer if they’d stabbed me in the back. Obviously they want nothing more to do with me.
“I hear Mary-Ann gave Oliver a son just last week. Neither of them bothered to inform me themselves. I’m desolate. They are both lost to me forever.”
“Why did they do that?” Tatum asked, wiping away tears.
“This is Mary-Ann’s diary entry at about the same time.”
“My child is a delight. Oliver is very pleased with his son, but our happiness is tempered by Marcus’s continued silence. He ought to be here to enjoy the child with us. I love him as much as I ever did, but his mind has obviously been poisoned against us by my father.
“Papa is still so very bitter and returns my letters unopened. He won’t even acknowledge his grandchild and that upsets me more than words can say. I know now that he really does mean to disinherit me. Perhaps that’s why Marcus has turned against me, too. He prefers riches to the love we once shared. I hadn’t thought him as shallow as all that.”
Aubrey choked back a sob, Hailey blew her nose,
and Farah could see that both mothers were visibly moved. Even their fathers seemed shaken.
“Why didn’t their letters get through?” Jocelyn asked.
“We don’t know,” Drew answered. “They went to their graves each assuming the other had cut off communications.”
“We think either Marcus’s father or Pardoe realized how strong the tie actually was and assumed they’d try to communicate somehow. The saddler was a friend of both men and probably too obvious a choice as a go-between,” Farah said. “A little pressure, the threat to withdraw the McLean custom, and he’d probably have caved easily enough. Times were hard immediately after the war, remember.”
“Okay,” Jackson said. “That’s probably what happened, but why didn’t they kiss and make up once Pardoe died? You said he didn’t have long to live.”
“He went on for another three years,” Drew said. “Far longer than Mary-Ann had been led to believe would be the case. In one of her diary entries, she puts it down to his stubborn determination to wreck her happiness.”
“The poor girl,” Tatum said.
“Just before he died the Baldwins’ fortunes took another nosedive. Half their herd was wiped out by a virus, and Oliver had no choice but to sell that strip of land…this strip of land. Marcus’s father bought it from Oliver, but Oliver was convinced it was done with Pardoe money. The McLeans had also suffered a loss of livestock due to the virus and weren’t a lot better off than the Baldwins, so he reasoned they couldn’t have raised the money without help.” Drew shrugged. “Oliver felt bitter and never forgave Marcus.”
“So it was no one’s fault,” Mary said. “Just a series of unfortunate misunderstandings, and an old man’s determination to live his daughter’s life for her.” She glanced at her husband, then at the Baldwin parents. “What have we done?” she asked in a stricken tone.
No one answered her.
“The gold?” Will asked.
“Listen to this,” Farah said, opening another diary. “This was written by my great-grandfather just before his death in 1915.”
“I don’t have long left. Whoever said you regret the things you don’t do in life was spot-on. I should have found a way to get through to Oliver and Mary-Ann and not allowed my stupid pride to get in the way. By the time I realized that our letters were probably being intercepted, things had gone too far. My father buying that two-thousand-acre stretch of land was the final straw from Oliver’s perspective. In his position I’d have felt betrayed, too.
“When Pardoe died I was already married to Catherine with my first child on the way. It was too late to turn the clock back, and so I had to find a way to live with my regrets. I loved Catherine, in my way, but my heart was already spoken for. Mary-Ann held the key and refused to unlock it. Even now, when we’re all in our twilight years, whenever I catch sight of her in town I still see the vibrant, forward-thinking girl I fell in love with.
“I would like to give her the money that her father left me but know she wouldn’t take it. I don’t want it, either. I used the lessons Pardoe taught me and increased its worth many times over through shrewd investments. My family has enjoyed the benefits of that wealth, but it’s brought me no pleasure, only increased guilt.
“Now I’m about to die. I’ve converted it all to gold and buried it here in the shack where we used to meet. I still come here whenever I can and still smell Mary-Ann’s unique perfume as soon as I step through the door, at least in my imagination.
“This gold ruined lives. I don’t want it. Perhaps a future generation will discover it and use it to do some good. Coward that I am, I no longer have the strength or energy do so myself. No more can I destroy the photographs of happier times, or my diaries recording the good and the bad. I shall hide them so that my descendants never discover what really caused the split between two families that used to be so close.
“I’m not ashamed, just so tired. It’s time to let go. But before I do, I’d say one thing to future generations of McLeans and Baldwins, if they ever get to read my memoirs. Don’t make the mistakes that your forbearers made. Don’t let jealousy and disappointment cloud your judgment. Have the courage to reach out for what you want and strive to be happy.”
When Farah closed the diary and glanced up through eyes clouded with tears, she could see there wasn’t a dry eye in the place. Even the fathers appeared to be moved. Drew squeezed her hand.
“Well done, babe,” he said.
“That’s just about the saddest story I ever heard,” Hailey said.
“What Farah didn’t tell you,” Drew said, clearing his throat, “is that Oliver and Marcus planned to merge their two ranches into one when their fathers passed over control of them. It would have made sense then, and would make even more sense now. We duplicate far too many services as it is because we’re too pig-headed to share.”
“I don’t know about that,” his father said.
“It’s asking a lot,” Farah’s father agreed.
“I’m not saying that’s what we should do,” Drew replied. “All I’m asking you, Dad, and you, Mr. McLean, is to grant Marcus’s wish, and Mary-Ann’s, too, and let bygones be bygones.”
“We’d also suggest that you stop throwing money at lawyers over ownership of the gold and split it down the middle,” Farah added.
“That, at least, makes sense,” Farah’s father said.
Joseph nodded. “I agree. I hate the thought of those barracuda lawyers getting fat off our hard work. “
“We all seem to have picked up on Mary-Ann’s penchant for threesomes,” Farah said. “And what’s more you, our parents, seem totally cool with that. Don’t tell me that’s not Mary-Ann’s influence rubbing off from beyond the grave.”
Drew slid an arm around Farah’s shoulders. “We’re happy,” he said. “And we want you to be happy for us.”
Everyone in the room knew it was down to the two fathers. Both of them stood up and stared at one another. Just a few feet separated them, but if one of them didn’t breach the divide, it might as well have been a thousand miles. The silence was deafening, straining Farah’s nerves to near breaking point.
Say something, one of you. I can’t stand it.
Her hands trembled. Isaac, intuitive to her needs as always, came up to her and took one. His reassuring squeeze helped. A lot.
After what seemed like an eternity, her father took a step forward.
“Seems like we’ve been behaving like jackasses all these years, Joseph, carrying on with a feud we didn’t understand because we didn’t know any better.”
“Don’t like it that it took our kids to point it out to us, Caleb. Kids have got no place being smarter than their parents.”
“I can’t imagine us being buddies anytime soon, but I’d rather make the effort than lose my only daughter.”
Joseph shrugged. “Can’t hurt none to try.”
Tears ran freely down Farah’s face as her father extended his hand. Joseph hesitated for a beat and then the two men shook for the first time in their entire lives. She wasn’t the only one on emotional overload. She heard several noses being blown. Even her big, bad brothers had trouble speaking.
Then all hell broke loose. Everyone was whooping and hollering, hugging and kissing. Tatum came up to Farah and wrapped her in a hug.
“You did it, girlfriend! Gotta hand it to you, you’re some detective.”
“Look.” Farah pointed to Jackson Baldwin and her brother Alex shaking hands.
“I’m still the best damned bull rider in this town,” Jackson said. “Nothing’s changed.”
“You keep thinking that,” Alex replied.
“Looks like we’ll have some new blood at our Friday night poker games,” Noah said to Matt and Eric. “We’ll enjoy carrying on the family tradition and taking the Baldwins’ money from them.”
“In your dreams,” Matt replied, smirking.
“At least now our kids can meet up without worrying about starting World War III,” Tanner said to Sophie.
Mary and Belinda were chatting away, about baking of all things.
“Looks like our moms won’t be competing for blue ribbons at next year’s county show,” Tatum said, smiling. “It seems more like they’ll be colluding against the rest of the competition instead.”
Will and Josh appeared.
“Thanks, sis,” Will said, hugging her. “You’re the best.”
“Or desperate, more like,” she said laughing. “I still can’t quite believe it.”
“It’s too early to make plans,” Jackson said. “But I’m for rebuilding this place and turning it into a meeting place for both families. It would be a fitting tribute to Mary-Ann and our grandfathers.”
“I think that’s a lovely idea,” Farah replied.
“Hi,” said a tentative voice at Farah’s side. “We haven’t actually met, but I’m Jocelyn—”
“I know who you are. It’s lovely to meet you.”
Jocelyn’s hungry gaze slid to Farah’s file of old papers. “You sure did a good job. I’d love to take a look at your findings sometime, if that’s okay.”
“Of course. You’re welcome to.”
“Thanks. I’ll be in touch.”
When Jocelyn moved away, Drew pulled Farah into his arms and kissed her.
“I love you, Ms. McLean,” he said, nuzzling her neck.
“Tell me more about your client who needs an interior designer,” she replied, nuzzling right back.
“She’s really looking forward to meeting you,” Isaac said, taking his turn to kiss Farah.
“Is that right? How come she knows so much about me?”
Drew and Isaac led Farah to a quiet corner. “We made it our business to let her know,” Isaac said. “You see, the thing is, darlin’, we both love you and want to spend the rest of our lives with you.”
Farah swallowed back yet more tears. “You do?”
“We do,” Drew said. “We were hoping to persuade you not to go back to chasing bad guys in Billings and to stay here with us instead.”
“Hmm, perhaps chasing bad guys gets old after a while.”
