A LOST LOVE’S LEGACY
SONS OF A GUN SERIES
BOOK 5
Brenda Sinclair
Kindle Edition
ISBN 978-1-926474-25-0
Copyright 2020 by Brenda Sinclair
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. Except for use in any review, the reproduction of this work in whole or in part in any form now known or hereafter invented is forbidden without the written permission of the author.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names.
While reading her grandmother’s diary, Rosemary Dalton discovers a skeleton in her ancestral closet. But during a trip to her grandfather’s hometown, Rosie suspects her grandmother kept an important secret from her family. When Rosie’s mother threatens to destroy her future, Rosie enlists the help of the handsome young rancher who befriends her, hoping they can prevent a horrible misjustice.
Michael McLennon is torn between acknowledging his growing feelings for sweet, kind-hearted Rosie and joining his family against her greedy mother who refuses to consider anyone’s opinion except her own. Fate creates an unexpected situation which may assist the McLennon family in fighting the menace threatening the future of every McLennon living on the Double M Ranch. While hoping to win Rosie’s heart, Michael also vows to save the family legacy.
Will Michael and Rosie ensure the truth prevails? Or could a shattered love from generations past tear them apart forever?
DEDICATION
To my family and friends who continue to support my writing endeavors,
even when my self-imposed deadlines interfere with family events.
Thanks for your understanding. I love you all.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title
Story Blurb
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Acknowledgements
Books by Brenda Sinclair
About the Author
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Chapter 1
Milestone, Montana
May 1889
Rosemary Dalton feared her entire life was comprised of one huge lie.
She clasped her recently deceased grandmother’s leather-bound diary in her gloved hands. After discovering a secret within these yellowed pages, she’d embarked upon this trip, hoping the skeleton in her ancestral closet would be willing to tell his story. Her mind raced with questions, and she might not sleep a wink until she learned more. If she accomplished nothing else during this trip, she was determined to meet Michael Miller from the Double M Ranch.
She gazed through the stagecoach’s small window, as the rig rumbled into the dusty frontier town representing the final leg of her journey. She gazed at the buildings on Main Street, many of them unpainted and a few looking rather decrepit. Growing up privileged and sheltered within the safety and security of a private estate on the outskirts of Boston, she never imagined such primitive towns existed. She wished she could take the time to jot anecdotes on her observations in her notebook. What a marvelous story she could tell. But who would read it?
The conveyance jostled to a halt outside a weathered wooden building with the large MILESTONE GENERAL STORE sign painted in red lettering on the front. A few moments later, the gray-haired driver yanked open the door and extended an age-spotted hand to assist her exit.
“Thank you, sir.” Rosie stepped onto the wide wooden boardwalk and shook out her skirts. Her navy velvet traveling suit was wrinkled and dusty beyond belief, and she straightened her feathered hat which hadn’t fared much better throughout the journey. The two other passengers returning home after a brief stay in Butte followed behind her. Keeping the purpose of her trip to herself, she’d nonetheless befriended the gregarious locals and enjoyed their company.
Mr. Watson, the well-dressed local manager of the First National Bank, touched the brim of his bowler. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Dalton.”
“You, too.” She smiled at him.
“Go inside, Rosie, and Ray Cochrane will lend you a hand,” Mrs. Watson instructed her. “And I do hope you enjoy your stay in Milestone.”
“Thank you. I enjoyed making your acquaintance, Nancy. And I’m certain we’ll cross paths again while I’m in town.” She waved as the couple strolled down the sidewalk.
Rosie stepped through the general store’s front door and gazed at the rows of shelves filled with everything imaginable and all contained within the four walls. Apparently, the concept of specialty shops had not yet taken hold in the far reaches of Montana. A middle-aged man stood behind the counter. He peeked over wire-rimmed spectacles while wiping his hands on his shopkeeper’s apron, and then he smiled broadly.
“Good afternoon. I’m Ray. How can I help you, miss?”
“I’m Miss Rosie Dalton. From Boston,” she introduced herself using the moniker she preferred. The name her beloved grandmother had called her.
“Miss Dalton, I hope you enjoy your stay in Milestone.”
“Thank you. Would you consider the Milestone Hotel across the street a reputable establishment?” Rosie had read the sign on the building as the stagecoach rumbled down Main Street, the enterprise kitty-corner to the store and easily within walking distance.
Ray chuckled. “I surely suppose it is. Farley Johnson is the owner and a stickler for propriety. Of course, it’s the only hotel in town.”
Rosie gaped. Only one hotel? That bit of information certainly limited her options.
Ray pointed outside. “If you brought luggage with you, I could have it delivered to the hotel?”
“Yes, thank you for the offer. There are two trunks,” Rosie confirmed. “Once I’m settled in, I’ll send word to have them sent over.”
“Can do. Visiting anyone in particular?”
Rosie stared at the man, shocked by his blatant curiosity. Should she answer him or was her business in town none of his concern? She hadn’t any notion what would be proper in a small town like Milestone. Having chatted up several ladies during her journey, she’d been informed certain proprieties were relaxed in the west in comparison to her strict eastern upbringing. Of course, these proprieties hadn’t been spelled out in any detail, and she hadn’t thought to request clarification from Mr. and Mrs. Watson. She decided to err on the side of caution and ignore his question.
“I�
��ll see myself to the hotel now. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.” Rosie offered him a smile and exited his store.
She crossed the dirt-packed, slightly rutted street and strode toward the prominent two-story building with large red lettering painted on the front stating MILESTONE HOTEL. Arriving a few minutes later, she climbed the trio of curved wooden steps and entered, allowing a moment for her eyes to adjust to the interior. Dark furnishing, heavy draperies on the rectangular windows and the enormous gas chandelier overhead welcomed her. Ahead stood a check-in area. Her bootsteps echoed as she strode across the polished plank floor. Despite a sudden case of nerves, she approached the skinny, bespectacled clerk standing behind the six-foot-long mahogany desk. A leather-bound registry lay open with a quill pen in the crease and ink pot nearby.
She smiled. “How do you do?”
“I’m well, thank you, ma’am.” The clerk returned her smile and pushed the register toward her. “Are you waiting for the rest of your party to arrive?”
Rosie shook her head and extended her hand toward the pen. “No, there’s just me.”
The fellow’s mouth dropped open and he yanked the register out of her reach. “Then I cannot provide you with a room. I apologize, but it’s the hotel’s policy. No rooms will be rented to single young women.”
“But I require a place to stay while I’m in town.”
The fellow pursed his lips. “Then I suggest you make alternate arrangements.”
“But I only require the room for one night. Tomorrow morning, I’ll be making arrangements to travel to the Double M Ranch. I’m hoping the owner will invite me to lodge there for the duration of my stay in Milestone,” Rosie explained.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a tall young man dressed in western clothing and a hat which she’d learned during her travels was called a Stetson. The fellow was standing in the doorway of what appeared to be the hotel’s dining room. He must truly be a real cowboy, she reasoned, gaping at the hat, denim trousers, cotton shirt, vest, and polished boots. And if all cowboys were this good-looking, she should truly consider extending her stay in Montana.
Her breath caught when he suddenly strode toward her, his boots tapping out a rhythm on the plank floor. “Did you mention the Double M, ma’am?”
“Yes… yes, I did,” she stammered, mesmerized by the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.
The handsome cowboy stood, hands on hips, unabashedly examining her from the feathered hat atop her head to her fashionable boots. Of course, she’d just done the same to him and appearing miffed at his perusal of her person seemed rather unfair.
“What business do you have with the Double M?” he demanded.
His question sounded extremely rude, but perhaps bluntness was one of the more lax proprieties she’d been warned about. “I rather doubt that is any of your concern,” she blurted without thinking.
“Suit yourself.” He shrugged and wandered out of the hotel.
Rosie returned her attention to the hotel clerk. “Now, where was I?”
The clerk shook his head. “Big mistake,” he muttered.
“Why would you say that?”
“Because I am not renting you a room, and that fellow would have provided you a complimentary ride to the Double M Ranch,” he explained, heaving a sigh.
“Him?”
“Michael lives on the Double M.”
Rosie considered her options for a moment, hoisted her skirts, and rushed out of the hotel. Her head pivoted while she searched up and down the street, finally spotting the fellow climbing onto the seat of a wagon. “Sir, wait a minute, please,” she called, waving frantically and then hurrying toward him in a most unladylike manner with her skirts hiked above her ankles. “Wait. Oh, please, wait.”
The fellow settled onto the wagon seat and frowned as she approached. “And what does the huffy newcomer in town want now?”
“I’m sorry for my rudeness before. I cannot apologize enough.” She released the grip on her skirts and extended her hand. “I’m Rosie Dalton and I would appreciate a ride to the Double M, please.”
“Why?”
“Because the clerk told me you live there.”
“No. Why do you want to travel to the ranch?” He sat stone-faced while he spoke.
“I have a question or two for the owner. And the hotel doesn’t have a room for me to rent.”
“Oh, he has a room. But he won’t rent rooms to single women traveling alone. Usually only ladies of questionable character do so.”
Rosie fumed inwardly at the erroneous supposition of her character, all the while feeling herself blushing profusely.
“I suppose you can stay at the ranch. Where’s your bag?” The fellow peeked around her at the sidewalk.
“My trunks remain at the general store until I send word to deliver them.”
His one eyebrow rose. “Trunks?”
Rosie held her head high. “I’m not leaving until I learn who I am.”
The cowboy whistled slow and low. “I’m sorry about that, ma’am. Never met anyone with amnesia before. Must be a mite troubling.”
“Oh. That’s not the problem.” Rosie shook her head. “I know my name. I don’t know my grandfather. He owns the Double M Ranch.”
“Grandfather?” The man’s face paled. “You think you’re related to my pa?”
Could they be related? Rosie considered he had reason to be concerned, considering how he’d been ogling her from head to toe a few minutes ago. “I don’t know. Who is your father?”
“A. J. McLennon.”
She blew out her breath. Thank goodness for that. “I am not your relation. My grandfather is Michael Miller, the owner of the Double M Ranch.” Her first question for Mr. Miller would be, what kind of man would leave a pregnant young lady to face certain disgrace and the challenges of motherhood alone?
The cowboy reared back as if she’d slapped him. “Then I know for a fact you’re a fraud. Michael Miller didn’t have any children. So there isn’t an ant’s chance in mud that you’re his granddaughter.” Without another word, he gently slapped the reins and the horses moved forward. The annoying fellow drove away, leaving her standing open-mouthed in a cloud of dust.
Rosie stood in shock as the fellow’s words registered in her mind. Michael Miller didn’t have any children. Didn’t? That statement could only mean one thing, and the realization that her grandfather was deceased sent Rosie’s emotions into a tailspin. An overwhelming sense of loss stole her breath and she staggered toward the hitching rail and reached out a hand to prevent herself from collapsing on the sidewalk. Her emotional reaction surprised her, considering she’d never known the man. But he’d been her grandfather and she’d entertained such high hopes of meeting him. Now, the one thing she’d looked forward to most during this trip was impossible.
Two women strolled by her, chatting happily while offering her a brief smile.
Rosie blinked back the tears that threatened to embarrass her in public. After a moment, she straightened and took a deep breath. She needed to keep a clear head. If this fellow believed her grandfather hadn’t any children, were there other kin in Milestone she might talk to? Perhaps a sibling who’d be willing to shed light on the information contained within the diary entries? Were these McLennon people running the ranch for her grandfather’s descendants?
How would she learn the truth about herself now? Had she traveled all this way for nothing? The situation had become much too confusing. She wavered on her feet again, standing on the wooden sidewalk, covered in dust.
Rosie sucked in her breath. “I’ve never felt so alone in the world,” she muttered to herself. And considering her upbringing and childhood that was saying something.
A moment later, she burst into tears.
Chapter 2
Amanda Manning strode down the sidewalk on her way to the general store, hoping to arrive before closing. She clasped a list of required staples in her hand, knowing she would be late making supper for her husband i
f she didn’t hurry. Employed as a town sheriff and keeping the peace in their small community, Sawyer Manning worked as hard as any man, and he deserved his supper on time.
As she approached the general store, she spotted a young woman standing on the sidewalk outside the hotel a short ways up Main Street. Amanda didn’t recognize the fashionably dressed lady, but she could be new to town. Without warning, the young woman burst into tears and remained standing there, sobbing uncontrollably.
My goodness, whatever could have happened? Amanda scooted across the street and approached, touching her arm while taking note of her finely tailored traveling suit. She hailed from wealth. Why on earth was she standing in the middle of town, crying her eyes out?
“My name is Amanda Manning. May I help you?”
The girl lifted her head, revealing a tear-stained face beneath her decidedly rumpled feathered hat; some talented milliner’s finely crafted creation had seen better days. “I… I… don’t know what to do…” she blubbered.
“Has there been an accident?”
She shook her head. “The hotel won’t rent me a room. And some horrible man insulted me and then left me standing here.”
“Who would do such a thing?”
The woman appeared to search her memory. “I believe his name was Michael McLennon.”
Amanda gasped and her hand covered her mouth. “You must be mistaken.”
She shook her head again, loosening several strands of hair from the bun at the nape of her neck. “That’s what the hotel clerk told me… Michael from the Double M Ranch. And the fellow told me his father was A. J. McLennon.”
“I cannot believe Michael would ever do such a thing.”
“He did. And worse.”
“Worse?” Amanda’s question erupted from her mouth in a squeak. What on earth was going on?
The tears continued streaming down her cheeks while she replied, “He called me a… a liar… and I don’t know what to do. The hotel… won’t rent me a room… because I arrived in town alone. The man at the desk mistakenly believes I’m... I can’t voice the horrid word aloud.”
A Lost Love's Legacy (Sons Of A Gun Book 5) Page 1
