A Lost Love's Legacy (Sons Of A Gun Book 5)

by Brenda Sinclair

  Just then a loud knock drew her from her thoughts. She hurried over and opened the door, discovering Rosemary standing there wearing a lovely pink and green floral dress. And her daughter had washed her face and fixed her hair again.

  “Rosemary, you look lovely,” Anna exclaimed.

  Her daughter stood staring. “Is… is that what you’re wearing to dinner?”

  Anna glanced down at the blue silk gown with the flowing skirt. “I wanted to look my best my first meal here.”

  “It’s a bit… fancy for… never mind. Dinner will be on the table if we don’t hurry.” Rosemary turned and strode toward the stairway.

  “Goodness, is there a fire?” Anna called, hoisting her skirts and hurrying after her daughter. “Do walk in a more ladylike fashion.”

  “Sorry. I’ll shorten my stride.” Rosemary descended the stairs, as demurely as if arriving at one of her mother’s infamous evening balls hosted solely to impress her society friends. “Do you suppose someone will announce us?”

  “Now you’re teasing me,” Anna scolded her, following her daughter into the dining room.

  Anna stopped in her tracks and glanced at the collection of young people at the table. These must be the sons and the daughters-in-law the ranch owner had mentioned. “Hello, everyone. My apologies for arriving late.”

  “Not late at all, ma’am,” AJ offered and proceeded to introduce everyone.

  Anna’s mind buzzed with names and how everyone was related to him. Jackson and daughter-in-law, Lily. Adam, a twin son, and wife, Willow. Other twin son, Simon, and his wife, Violet, were visiting today from their Triple C Ranch which adjoined the Double M. And youngest son, Michael, who’d been riding with Rosemary. Goodness, even the housekeeper was permitted to eat at the same table as the family. Was that common practice in the west? Anna certainly had a lot to learn about customs and whatnot in these backwoods.

  “I’m delighted to meet all of you, and I’m certain in time I will remember all of your names,” Anna admitted to her shortcoming. Usually she forgot names as quickly as she heard them, purely from lack of interest. She needed to remember these people, however, to remain on the good side of the ranch owner.

  AJ assigned Jackson to bless the food, and then Anna enjoyed the simple meal. Everyone ate robustly; there wasn’t another word for it. She’d never witnessed the disappearance of food so rapidly in her life. Montana men possessed the most voracious appetites she’d ever seen.

  “What’s for dessert, Mrs. Sheridan?”

  Anna wracked her brain until she recalled the fellow’s name was Adam, in charge of horses, if her memory served.

  “Apple pie. And ice cream made this morning.” The housekeeper began clearing dishes and Anna almost fell off her chair when Rosemary popped off her chair and helped the other women with the chore.

  “Everyone wants pie, I assume. Would you like a slice, Mother?” Rosemary inquired, her hands filled with empty plates and cutlery.

  “Yes… thank you… that would be lovely.” Anna smiled at her daughter who promptly disappeared into the kitchen.

  The sound of a crying baby caught Anna’s attention.

  The woman she’d been introduced to as Lily chuckled, balancing several platters in her hands. “Edward allowed me to eat my entire meal before interrupting, but please excuse me. It appears I’ll be having my dessert in the kitchen.” She hurried out through the door closing it behind her.

  Anna gaped, shaking her head. “The baby is kept in the kitchen?”

  AJ laughed heartily. “Edward sleeps in a crib while his mother helps prepare meals. Lily will feed him and then have her pie afterward.”

  Anna couldn’t think of a single thing to add. She’d relied on her daughter’s nanny and a wet nurse to care for her child, freeing Anna from the responsibility. Which had suited her just fine. Apparently, a wet nurse wasn’t the habit out here in the west. Of course, she hadn’t a clue how old the child was.

  “Here we are,” Rosemary called as she entered the room with a tray filled with dessert plates each holding a slice of pie and generous scoop of ice cream. “Mrs. Sheridan will be in with the rest of them in a minute.”

  “Did she get to Edward first?” AJ inquired.

  Rosemary chuckled. “She’s doing the changing before Lily feeds him. Perhaps I’d better fetch the rest of the plates before a scuffle breaks out among your sons.”

  AJ chuckled. “Might be wise.”

  “Surely, you’re joking,” Anna blurted.

  “Don’t get between my boys and their food. You might lose an arm.” AJ winked at her.

  Anna leaned back in her chair. “Now, I know you’re joking.”

  “No, ma’am. If Mrs. Sheridan’s pie is on the plate, I’d gnaw your arm off clear to the elbow,” Michael teased.

  Everyone burst into laughter, including Anna who was seated beside Michael.

  “AJ, may I please be assigned a different seat for the next meal?” Anna played along.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” he promised, winking at her again.

  Anna was slightly put off by the teasing. Meals at her home in Boston were sedate affairs, where proper manners ruled and only the most mundane topics were discussed. Never strictly forbidden topics such as politics or religion, of course, or her mother would have scolded the person initiating the discussion. Her father would discuss particularly interesting happenings in the city or at work on occasion. The family ate in silence the majority of the time, everyone lost in his or her own thoughts. And the servants would never be invited to sit with them.

  The pleasant camaraderie among the friendly rural family seated around the simply set table was totally unexpected. Perhaps the novelty of the idea fascinated her daughter and led to her comment about enjoying her visit here. Anna wasn’t certain how she felt about these people, so different from herself. Her goal had been to return Rosemary to their Boston home at the earliest convenience. Now, she considered it prudent to learn more about the outlandish claims regarding her parentage. Surely this ranch hadn’t been the place of her conception. But if what her mother wrote in her diaries was to be believed, then these McLennon people became owners under false pretense. If indeed she was proven the daughter of this Michael Miller person, hadn’t a miscarriage of justice occurred? Wouldn’t it mean Anna should have been the rightful person to inherit the Double M and not some ranch hand her father had employed?

  Anna excused herself after the meal and returned to her room for an afternoon nap. She’d given herself a headache, running all these questions and possibilities through her mind. She might have been this man’s daughter, and if that were proven the case, the ranch should have been hers. But Anna would have to come to grips with the fact she was conceived out of wedlock. A bas… She couldn’t even think the word. She’d worry about all of this once she’d learned more.

  After tossing and turning for more than an hour, she drifted off to a restless sleep and dreamt about huge, angry, long-horned cattle chasing her as she stumbled through a meadow. She awoke with a start, heart pounding.

  “Why would anyone willingly live on a ranch?” she muttered.

  Chapter 11

  Next day, Rosie accompanied her mother into the study to discuss the situation in more detail. AJ poured everyone a cup of coffee from the pot Mrs. Sheridan had set on a nearby table. Rosie suspected dozens of questions buzzed in her mother’s mind, but Anna demonstrated respectful restraint so far. In fact, they’d enjoyed a pleasant evening together last night. But the moment AJ settled into the rocking chair across from the sofa they shared, her mother leaned back and glared at him.

  “Please tell me about this Michael Miller fellow,” Anna demanded, taking a sip of the hot brew.

  AJ slowly swirled the contents of his cup for a moment and then blew on the beverage. He raised it to his lips and took a sip. “Mrs. Sheridan makes the best cup of coffee. Sam Perkins should take lessons. You need to chew the stuff he serves at the cooperage.”

  R
osie glanced at her mother who sat patiently waiting. Anna’s outward composure didn’t fool Rosie for a moment. Silent fuming lurked behind her mother’s passive expression.

  AJ’s hands rested in his lap and he stared at the cup he grasped. “I’ll start by saying there wasn’t a better man born. Michael Miller would give a total stranger the shirt off his back if the man needed one.”

  Anna waved her hand, dismissively. “I would imagine the same could be said of hundreds of men.”

  “You’re right,” AJ conceded. “But there were several layers to the man. Generous. Hard-working. Spiritual. Fair-minded and non-judgmental. He respected everyone, no matter whether the fellow was one of the richest men in the copper mining industry or a Chinese immigrant who barely spoke a word of English but worked endless hours without complaint. All men were of equal worth in his eyes.”

  “He sounds like someone who’d be well-liked,” Rosie commented.

  AJ nodded. “And respected by all in return. But the man had a wicked sense of humor, and he loved nothing better than a good prank.”

  Rosie slid to the edge of her seat. “Tell us some of them.”

  “Well, let’s see now. One night Michael snuck into the bunkhouse. It was summer and hot without a breath of air. Every ranch hand was asleep, down to their barely covered, if you get my meaning.”

  Rosie felt herself blushing, knowing what he meant.

  “Michael gathered up the fellows’ shirts and tied all the sleeves together ending up with one long row of shirts which he hung out on the clothesline, stretched from one end to the other.” AJ chuckled. “His ranch hands had a dickens of time in the morning, me included. First, finding where our shirts were and then attempting to get them all untied.”

  Rosie smiled, imagining their confusion. “Michael was quite the fellow.”

  “Great sense of humor. But a stubborn streak also. One year Michael set his heart on breaking this particular wild stallion he’d captured. Totally black, the most beautiful horse you’ve ever laid eyes on. Well, Michael tried his best, but you’ve never seen a fellow covered in more bruises and cuts. Only time I ever heard Michael cussing, when he tried over and over again to tame that horse. I’d reckoned that stallion would kill Michael before he’d ride him. After months of trying, Michael finally came to the same realization. He admitted defeat and returned the horse to the wild.”

  “You must have had so many humorous times on this ranch,” Rosie suggested.

  “We surely did. And it wasn’t always planned or plotted.” AJ chuckled. “One night everyone on the ranch woke up to a terrible ruckus coming from the henhouse. Everyone reckoned a skunk or a fox got in there and was killing the chickens. So, us ranch hands all grabbed our pistols and stumbled out of the bunkhouse. And we see Michael hightailing it across the yard from the main house toting a gun in his hand. A couple of us throw open the door and shine a lantern in there. Michael’s figuring on shooting this critter killing his chickens.”

  Rosie caught herself holding her breath. “Which was it? A skunk or a fox?”

  “Neither.” AJ burst into laughter. “We found one of the ranch hands curled up sound asleep in the corner. Dozens of angry hens are cackling and their wings are aflappin’, mad as all get out that this feller invaded their house and disturbed their sleep. Hens are flying from roost to roost, and there’s drunken Charlie passed out in the corner, sound asleep and snoring up a storm.”

  “No,” Rosie exclaimed.

  “A couple of the fellows hefted Charlie to his feet and hauled him out. Charlie’s muttering, complaining bitterly that he’s being dragged from his bed, figuring he’d crawled into the bunkhouse.”

  Rosie covered her mouth with her hand, giggling. “My goodness. I’d wager he never lived that down for a while.”

  AJ chuckled, nodding. “Michael gave him the nickname Henhouse, and we called him that for years. Charlie has passed now, buried up on the hill with Edna and a few others, but some of us who were here back then still mention that night from time to time. A bit of nostalgia.”

  Rosie leaned back on the sofa. “The poor fellow.”

  “This is all very entertaining,” Anna interjected, waving her hand. “Could we return to my questions? How did Mr. Miller start this ranch?”

  Rosie glared at her mother, disapproving of her rude interruption, but their gracious host didn’t miss a beat.

  “Well, Michael shared his personal history with me soon after I started working for him.” AJ leaned back and slowly rocked as he spoke, the chair emitting a soft squeak with each movement. “Despite the age difference, Michael and I became the best of friends from the beginning, and we enjoyed a good chinwag right here in this room every evening after the chores were completed.”

  Rosie noticed the wistful expression on AJ’s face. “You miss him to this day, don’t you?”

  AJ smiled and shrugged. “It’s that obvious?”

  “Very much so,” Rosie replied, smiling.

  “Michael was like a father to me. I figured growing up in Texas, I’d been around ranching enough to have soaked up every bit of knowledge I needed.” AJ chuckled. “Couldn’t have been more wrong. Taught me everything he knew about cattle ranching in Montana. Dealing with the northern weather alone set me back a peg or two. Until I faced that first life-threatening blizzard, I didn’t understand how powerless I’d feel against Mother Nature’s fury.”

  “We’ve suffered through winter weather in Boston,” Anna stated, waving off AJ’s comment. “I suppose it’s equally miserable for people living in this region of the country.”

  “I reckon you holed up in a cozy home sipping brandy in front of a blazing fire. Looking through a window watching the pretty snowflakes falling. Wondering what the staff are preparing for your supper.” AJ shook his head. “Our cowhands might have found themselves miles from shelter surrounded by nothing but snow-covered grassland and several hundred head of cattle. So cold they couldn’t feel their feet. Worried they’d freeze to death seated on a horse standing in snow up to its chest and barely able to move from the spot.”

  Rosie gasped. “Surely, you’re exaggerating.”

  “Wish I were. Over the years, we’ve sadly lost a few ranch hands caught out in a storm.” AJ met eyes with Rosie. “We have a few line shacks on the ranch outfitted with grub and woodstoves to temporarily shelter ranch hands or strangers alike. Anyone finding themselves suddenly caught in a storm.”

  Anna sat speechless. A situation Rosie had seldom witnessed.

  Rosie slid forward in her chair. “Do your ranch hands frequently endanger their lives during inclement months while checking on your stock?”

  “The ranch hands read the skies and usually know when to expect a storm. Sometimes, we’re fooled and the weather takes an unexpected turn for the worse, but we plan ahead for storms.”

  Rosie shifted on the sofa. “What do you do?”

  “Well, the cattle know enough to seek shelter out on the range. In the barns, a couple ranch hands stay with the horses or cattle. We have areas set up with small woodstoves, cupboards filled with canned grub, and bunks for sleeping. The men feed and water the stock until the storm blows itself out.” AJ chuckled. “Sometimes a storm will rage for two or three days. If the men entertain themselves with cards, could be a friendly handshake or fisticuffs depending on who’s the victor by the time the weather improves.”

  Rosie laughed.

  Anna cleared her throat and glared at AJ. “Would you please answer my question? What kind of man was Mr. Miller?”

  “Sorry, ma’am, wasn’t my intention to ignore your question.” AJ halted his rocking and met Anna’s eyes. “Michael was what some folks would call a dreamer. A lot of fellers have fanciful ideas and outlandish vision, but Michael wasn’t anything like them. Michael Miller dreamed big, but he wasn’t a stranger to hard work and he made his dreams come true.”

  “Like starting this ranch,” Anna suggested.

  “Exactly. He worked in mining and mad
e a small fortune. He partnered with others in mercantile stores selling supplies directly to the miners. He partnered with other cattle ranchers in joint ventures to share the profits or minimize occasional loses.” AJ smiled. “When it appeared mining would be controlled by a few industry kings, he sold the majority of his interests. Took his money and moved on to his next dream, including owning his own cattle ranch. By then he’d found the perfect location, and he built this huge home, planning to marry a lovely woman and raise a whole passel of young’uns one day.”

  “So, he did marry,” Anna interjected.

  AJ shook his head. “Never. Told me once long ago he’d met the woman for him, but it never worked out.”

  “It never worked out is how he explained away my mother?” Anna huffed, eyes blazing.

  “He never mentioned the woman’s name. She could have been Lucille Woodley.” AJ leaned forward, placing his arms on his thighs and tenting his fingers. “I’ve thought about this long and hard. Knowing Michael, he definitely would have respectfully asked Mr. Woodley to court Lucille. I reckon a wealthy feller like Woodley refused Michael’s request, intending to take his family back to Boston.”

  “If his business affairs had been completed by then, he wouldn’t leave his daughter on her own and simply return home,” Rosie speculated. “If Lucille had insisted on marriage or if she’d eloped, Grandfather wouldn’t have had any choice but to leave Lucille in Montana.”

  AJ leaned back and smiled at Rosie. “Would have changed both of their lives in every way if that had happened.”

  Anna gasped. “I would have been raised on a ranch?”

  Rosie reached for her mother’s hand. She’d permitted her mother to read the diary entries last night. Afterward, her mother had climbed the stairs and returned to her room without a word.

  AJ shook his head. “I don’t believe you’re Michael’s daughter. If he couldn’t court your mother, he would have stepped away immediately. And he certainly wouldn’t have compromised her virtue before she left.”