“Not until we got him back to the ranch. The paramedics were transferring him to the ambulance, when he opened his eyes, looked right at me and said, ‘bastard.’”
Her sisters looked taken aback.
“Are you sure you heard that correctly?” Sage asked.
Callan nodded.
“Trust Dad to go out with a swear word,” Dani said.
Dani was right. Their father did swear a lot. But why had he chosen that particular word? Callan had been thinking about it a great deal. “I wonder if he wasn’t swearing, but giving me a rather blunt message.”
Mattie’s eyes went round. “What are you suggesting, Callan?”
“Well, thanks to Sage, we all know Mom wasn’t faithful to Dad later in their marriage.” When Mattie’s marriage began falling apart last spring, Sage had shared the story of what she’d seen as a little girl—their mother and neighboring rancher, Bill Sheenan, having oral sex in their parents’ bedroom here at the Circle C. The point of sharing the story had been to let Mattie know that a marriage didn’t necessarily break up because of infidelity.
But Callan thought the example had backfired. Based on the rocky relationship that had existed between her father and mother, she suspected both would have been happier if they had gone their separate ways.
“You think Bill Sheenan got Mom pregnant?” Dani asked.
“It’s possible. And since I’m the youngest child...maybe Bill Sheenan was my real father?”
“No.” All three of the sisters shook their heads.
After a few moments their expressions of denial softened into thoughtfulness.
So Callan knew the idea wasn’t crazy. It might be true.
All these years she’d worked by her father’s side, getting a lot more abuse than praise. She’d tried to be strong and take it. Had worked even harder, to make him proud. But what if he’d never really loved her...because she was another man’s child?
At ten minutes to four Eliot packed Nat, Portia and Wren into the SUV and drove off. The plan was to have pizza with Sage’s husband Dawson and his little girl Savannah in Marietta, leaving the sisters free to focus on the meeting with the lawyer and Court McAllister.
The house seemed dreadfully solemn to Callan once they’d left. Even baby Bev was quiet, fast asleep since her afternoon feeding.
“I’m going to put on a fresh pot of coffee,” Mattie said.
They’d gone through so much coffee already, Callan supposed they were in store for a second sleepless night. But that was okay. Being wired with caffeine was better than falling apart. “You do that. I’ll get out the bourbon.”
It had been a tough day. Her sisters had only briefly entertained the possibility that she might not have been Hawksley’s biological daughter. They’d been quick to point out that she and Mattie were so alike they could be twins, excepting the thirteen-year age gap and the fact that Mattie was all curves while Callan had a boyish figure.
“Hawksley was just being Hawksley,” Dani had said to conclude the discussion. “When he said ‘bastard’ he was merely voicing his disapproval of the whole dying thing.”
Callan wished she could be certain they were right. All day long she’d been growing more anxious and uptight. She had a really bad feeling about this meeting with the lawyer. And she felt even more nervous about meeting Court McAllister.
“We should put out some snacks, too. I have more chocolate in my car. I’ll grab a fresh box.” Sage reappeared a moment later with a large-sized, copper-colored box filled with her fruit and nut bark. After arranging the chocolate on a pretty plate, she placed the plate on the table in the family room where they’d decided to hold their meeting.
Meanwhile, Mattie had washed some grapes and put them out with some cubes of cheddar and Swiss cheese.
At four o’clock precisely, Callan heard Ren Fletcher’s vehicle pull up in the gravelled driveway.
All four sisters gravitated to the foyer, but they let Callan open the door. She understood why. This home had belonged to all of them, but her sisters were acknowledging the fact that it was Callan who had stayed and made the ranch her life.
Two men emerged from the dusty SUV. Callan barely glanced at Ren Fletcher, whom she’d known most of her life. It was the other man who drew her eyes. Almost as tall as Ren, he had a lean build and a smoothly handsome face. She could see nothing of Hawksley in him. Despite his faded jeans and the worn leather of his boots, he looked like a man from the city to her. For one thing, his skin was too pale.
“My condolences, Callan.” Ren was the first up the porch steps. He didn’t hug her, just took her hand and squeezed her shoulder gently before moving on to greet her sisters.
Callan was left to face Court. Up close she was struck by his beautiful blue eyes and disarming smile. Paradoxically she felt an immediate dislike. It felt wrong, having this man she’d never met before taking part of such a personal family gathering.
“I’m Callan.” She offered him her hand reluctantly.
He looked taken aback, as if he’d expected someone different. “Callan. Good to meet you, finally, though the circumstances could be better. Sorry for your loss.”
He looked like he wanted to say more, but she didn’t want to encourage further conversation. She stepped back, letting Mattie move forward into the void.
“Hi, Court, welcome to the Circle C. We’ve heard so much about you from our father. It feels strange that we’ve never met before.”
Yes, that was the right thing to say. But Callan didn’t care if she’d been rude. She just wanted this whole thing to be over, for these men to get out of her house and leave her and her sisters alone.
It was Sage who ushered the guests to the family room, Mattie who offered coffee, and Dani who sat down with paper and a pen, prepared to take notes. Callan hung on the periphery, pouring herself some bourbon over a glass full of ice.
“That looks good. May I have a bourbon, too?” Court was watching her from his seat by the fireplace.
Damn it, he was sitting in their father’s favorite leather chair. Reluctantly she dropped ice into a second glass, poured in the bourbon, then passed it to Mattie to give to Court. She dragged a chair from the kitchen so she could sit on the edge of the action.
Now she noticed Court taking in the view of the fields stretching out to the Gallatin Mountains in the west. Even that annoyed her. Then again, if he’d sat there staring at the tips of his boots, she’d probably have found that aggravating as well.
“Okay, I’m going to get straight to the point, beginning with your father’s wishes regarding his end of life,” Ren said. “Callan was talking to me earlier about a funeral—”
“We covered that this afternoon,” Dani flipped back a page in her notebook. “We’ll bury dad next to mother’s marker in the family plot. Probably have a short service, with lunch to follow in the church basement.”
Ren frowned and glanced at Callan. Too late she remembered him advising her not to do any planning until he’d had a chance to talk to them. She’d forgotten to pass this on to her sisters.
“I’m afraid that isn’t what your father wanted, Dani,” Ren said, his tone gentle but firm. “He said no service, no celebration of life, nothing like that. He just wanted—” Here Ren paused, taking a deep breath before going on. “—to be cremated and have his ashes scattered. He wanted Callan and—” Another pause. “ - and Court to ride up to the foothills and scatter his ashes there.”
CHAPTER THREE
The room was quiet for only a second. And then everyone was talking. Callan sank back against her chair, too stunned to do more than listen.
“But what about the rest of us?” This was Mattie, sounding affronted.
“That old bastard,” Dani said with disgust.
“This is too much. Even for Hawksley.” Sage, who was sitting next to Ren on the couch, put a hand on the lawyer’s arm. “Did Dad tell you why he wanted only Court and Callan to spread the ashes?”
“I’m sure he didn’t mean it a
s a slight or an insult. He just didn’t want any fuss. You know your father.”
“Yeah,” Dani said. Her voice made it clear this wasn’t a good thing.
Callan’s gaze slid over to Court and found him, likewise, looking at her. There was something of an apology in his eyes, as if acknowledging the inappropriateness of her father’s request. But there was something else, too. A challenge?
“Have you even been on a horse before?” She glanced from his smooth, even complexion to his soft white hands.
“I may not have grown up on a ranch. But I can ride.”
She looked at him doubtfully. “What is it you do again?”
“I’m an accountant.”
She raised her eyebrows and gave a slight shake of her head. Then she returned her focus to Ren. “Dad may not have wanted a funeral. But he can’t stop us from having one if we want to.”
“That’s true,” the lawyer agreed. “I told Hawksley that, as well. But he just wanted to let you know what his wishes were.”
“I think we should respect them,” Sage said. “To a point. Callan and Court can spread half of his ashes up on the foothills. Let’s bury the rest by Mom and have a small interment service with just immediate family.
“Court isn’t immediate family,” Callan was quick to point out. “Will he be invited?”
“Yes,” said Sage, Mattie and Dani, speaking over one another in their haste to be polite.
But Court took no notice. He was still looking at Callan. “If you’d rather I wasn’t present, I won’t be offended.”
His polite words for some reason sent her temper flaring. “Really? But then you’d be missing the point.”
“Callan!” Mattie, appalled, was quick to reassure Court that he would naturally be welcome to attend if he chose.
“That’s very kind,” Court replied politely. “But perhaps you should suspend your invitation until you hear the rest of what Mr. Fletcher has to say.”
In a flash everyone turned to Ren Fletcher, who made a show of straightening the papers he’d earlier removed from his briefcase. Despite his efforts to remain calm and professional, a sheen of perspiration had appeared on his forehead. Callan knew then that her earlier anxiety had been well founded and some awful surprise was in store for them this afternoon.
“Should I get on with the provisions of the will, then?” Ren asked.
“Yes.” Callan couldn’t take the tension and stress of waiting any longer.
“Fine.” Ren took a sip of coffee then began. “Hawksley Carrigan was a very wealthy man. Far wealthier, I suspect, than any of you may have realized. He managed your mother’s investment account astutely and that money is to be shared, as per your mother’s wishes, equally among Mattie, Dani, Sage and Callan.”
“But I thought there was no Bramble money,” Mattie said. “We heard that it had been lost over the years due to a combination of over-spending and poor investment decisions.”
“That may be the case for other branches of the family. But when your mother married Hawksley, her father gave her a sizeable amount of money. Hawksley was insulted, feeling that his father-in-law was insinuating he wasn’t capable of providing for Beverly on his own. So he never touched it and he made her promise she wouldn’t either. Because of that promise and Hawksley’s careful investing, there’s a very sizeable fund in the account today.”
“I suppose we should thank our father for that,” Dani said reluctantly. “Too bad he wasn’t put in charge of great-aunt Mabel’s share of the money, as well.”
Their great aunt had been to the point of having to sell the original Bramble family home in Marietta until cousin Eliza moved to town from Nashville and turned the place into a bed and breakfast.
Callan relaxed a little. If these were the sorts of surprises she had to prepare herself for then this might not be so bad as she’d feared.
But the slick of sweat on Ren’s forehead was getting worse. He took another drink of coffee then went on. “Your father also had his own investment portfolio, aside from the ranch accounts. That money, as well, will be divided equally among Mattie, Dani, Sage and Callan.” Ren looked up from his notes. “The sum total of money you inherit from both your mother and Hawksley should be enough to ensure you all have very comfortable futures.”
Sounded good. But had anyone else noticed Ren seemed to be avoiding calling Hawksley their father? Maybe it was because of Court, and the fact that he was only a distant cousin?
Ren turned to the next page of his notes. Paused to finish his coffee. Then cleared his throat. “The ranch house at the Circle C, including the acre parcel it sits on, is bequeathed to Callan, since it has been the only home she has ever known.”
Callan’s gaze shot to first Mattie then Dani and finally Sage, and felt intense relief when each of them nodded and smiled at her, making it clear they found this fair and bore no hard feelings. Interesting that her father had chosen to separate the house from the ranch itself, but she appreciated the fact that he had made certain that this house would continue to be her home.
Ren took a folded square of fabric from his pocket, pressed it to his forehead, then turned to the last page of his notes. “And finally, the remainder of the Circle C Ranch, all its outbuildings and associated assets, including all livestock other than Montana Sapphire, Coffee Girl and Cinnamon Girl—who go to Callan and Sage respectively—are bequeathed to Court McAllister of St. Paul, Minnesota.”
Court’s fingers tightened around his glass of bourbon as Ren delivered Hawksley’s last and most astounding bequest. He’d hoped the promise of all that money would soften the blow. But the second after his name had been uttered as the sole beneficiary of the Circle C Ranch, Callan jumped up from her chair so abruptly she sent the chair flying backward.
“The ranch. The entire ranch. To Court?” Hands splayed on her hips, Callan glared from him to the lawyer.
“I’m sorry for the shock.” Ren was trying to sound calm but it was clear he was feeling emotional, too. “I advised Hawksley to talk to you girls about this, at least.”
“It’s because we’re female, right? I mean, I always knew Dad would have preferred sons. But damn it! This isn’t Victorian England.” Callan’s voice trembled with her outrage, her eyes shone brightly with tears.
And then in a flash she was gone, out the door that led to the back patio and gardens.
Court’s instinct was to go after her. But he was the last person she’d want to see right now.
Her sisters were exchanging glances, looking concerned.
“I should go talk to her,” Mattie said, rising from her chair.
“No. Let her have some time to process,” Dani advised. “We all need time for that, frankly.”
“No kidding.” Sage was on the edge of the sofa, looking at Ren as if he’d suddenly turned into a monster. “How could you let him do this? I don’t mind that much, and I suspect Dani and Mattie feel the same. But Callan! She’s spent her entire life working with Hawksley on the Circle C and he’s leaving the entire thing to...a stranger?”
There goes my invitation to the Interment... “I’m not exactly a stranger.”
“To us, you are,” Sage countered.
“But I wasn’t to your father, we had an excellent relationship. And he had his reasons for what he did, though you might not agree with them.” Court didn’t know why he was arguing when he could appreciate their outrage. To them the will must seem unfair. But he didn’t appreciate being treated like dirt under the Carrigan girls’ boots either.
“Well, I’m happy to hear our father had an excellent relationship with somebody,” Mattie said. “Because he sure didn’t with us. Is this a solid will, Ren? Will it stand up in court?”
“It’s your legal right to challenge the will, if you choose. But I’d say it’s solid. Some might argue that you girls got the better deal, considering your assets are liquid, while the ranch...”
“The ranch is Callan’s life,” Mattie replied bluntly. “She could care
less about the cash. When did Hawksley write this will, anyway? If it was a spur of the moment thing—”
“I’m afraid it wasn’t.” Ren’s voice was gentle. “Your father had this will drawn up shortly after your mother died. I wasn’t even the original attorney he worked with. Daniel Berrington is retired and living in Arizona now.”
That news seemed to take some of the steam out of the Carrigan girls.
Once more, Court felt for them. He felt for the lawyer, too. Ren Fletcher had known what he had to say would be difficult for them. But, like him, he’d probably hoped the good news about the money would cushion the blow about the ranch.
Obviously, for Callan, it hadn’t.
Meeting the youngest of the Carrigan girls had been a shock. He’d expected someone tough and hard, based on Hawksley’s description. But Callan was petite and extremely pretty. The color of her eyes reminded him of the colorful bluebirds that nested on their land every spring.
The meeting fizzled out at that point. A baby cried and Dani, the tall, beautiful professor daughter who lived in Seattle, went rushing upstairs. Sage, the former barrel-racer with the gorgeous red hair, removed the chocolate from the table and put it in the fridge.
Damn, that chocolate had looked delicious, too, but the atmosphere had been too fraught for him to feel right taking a piece. So instead he polished off the bourbon and left his glass on the kitchen counter.
Mattie, the eldest daughter, the one who raised Tennessee Walking Horses in the Flathead Valley, was left to escort them to the door. She didn’t offer to shake hands, just gave them each a nod. “Thanks for driving out here.” She hesitated, then her sense of fairness made her add, “Ren, I know it wasn’t easy. But thank you for representing our father’s wishes today. And Court...”
She gazed into his eyes and he found the guilt rising up in him again. “I don’t understand why our father left the Circle C to you. But you do. In a while, after the dust settles, I’d appreciate if you’d tell us. It would be helpful. Especially to Callan.”
He found himself liking this eldest of the Carrigan girls, responding to her decency and kindness. “I’d tell her now, but I suspect she’d either slug me in the face or run, if I tried.”
A Cowgirl's Christmas Page 3
