The Inheritance (34 page)

Hoping to have avoided this introduction, McKenna had a sudden thought. It was worth a try. “Of course, she’s just inside. You know . . .” She smiled. “She bears a real likeness to you, Mr. Talbot.”

He stared for a moment. “Really? How’s that, ma’am?”

“Your coloring is so similar to hers. Just like her father’s.” Vince’s hair had been dark, like his eyes. Like this man’s standing before her. The exact
opposite
of Emma’s. But Harrison Talbot wouldn’t know that if he hadn’t been here before. If he was only someone
pretending
to be related to Vince.

“I appreciate that, ma’am. Emma’s a pretty little girl. But if memory serves right, and I believe it does—” His gaze took on a penetrating quality. “She shares her mother’s coloring. Not my brother’s. Or mine.”

McKenna wasn’t intimidated by him, but neither was she completely unaffected. This man could well end up waltzing in and taking everything she’d worked so hard to keep for Emma’s sake. And for her own. She returned his glare. “Wait here. I’ll get her.”

McKenna closed the door behind her and walked to Emma’s room. Emma sat on the edge of her bed, holding Clara. “I need for you to say hello to someone, sweetie.”

“That mean man who yelled at us?”

“No, it’s not Mr. Billings, sweetie. It’s another man. All you have to do is say hello.”

Emma nodded and slipped down from the bed. “Can Clara go?”

“Of course, she can. And one more thing . . .” McKenna briefly glanced over her shoulder. “I want to play a little game. Just between you and me, okay?”

Emma giggled, nodding.

“When we go outside, I want you to hold my hand. Then I want you to look at the man you’re going to meet and if you remember seeing him before, I want you to squeeze my hand really tight. Okay?”

Emma smiled, nodding again.

“Remember, only squeeze my hand if you remember seeing him before. All right?”

“All right, Aunt Kenny.”

Harrison Talbot stood right where she’d left him.

McKenna hesitated a few seconds to see if Emma would show any sign of recognition or if she would greet him as
Uncle
Harrison
. When Emma didn’t, McKenna felt a sense of victory and gestured toward him, not about to introduce him with the endearment of uncle. In fact, best that she not influence Emma’s decision with a name at all. In doing so, McKenna knew she was setting etiquette aside, but the situation warranted it. “Emma, this is a friend of Mr. Billings. And this”—she looked pointedly at Talbot—“is Emma.”

He knelt to be closer to her height. “Hi there, Emma. How are you?”

Emma pulled back slightly, staring. Just as McKenna had thought she would.

“Emma,” she coaxed gently. “Can you say hello, please?”

“Hello,” Emma whispered, smiling and briefly ducking her head.

“Hello, Emma. It’s nice to see you again.”

McKenna waited, but Emma relayed no sign of having seen him before. Which likely meant that this man claiming to be Vince’s brother had actually never visited here, as he’d stated. And that her earlier supposition was—

Emma squeezed her hand.
Hard.
Harder than McKenna thought a five-year-old capable of doing. And as Harrison Talbot took his leave and walked toward the barn where Billings stood waiting, McKenna pried Emma’s hand from hers.

“Did I do good, Aunt Kenny?” Emma whispered.

“Yes, sweetie, you did very well,” McKenna said, her heart clenching tight. “And do you remember where you saw him?”

Emma nodded, her smile blossoming. “Right here. At my house.”

THIRTY

A
re you certain you’ve seen him here before, Emma?” McKenna asked after Billings and Talbot left.

Emma nodded and held on to McKenna’s hand as they walked up the rock-strewn hill behind the cabin. McKenna often came up here when she needed to be alone or think things through, though the cool of evening was preferable to the late July sun beating down overhead.

“He and Papa walked outside. I ’member ’cuz I wanted to go. But Mama said no. That I had to help her with the biscuits. My mama made good biscuits, Kenny.”

“Yes, honey, she sure did.” McKenna gathered her skirt as she stepped over a rock. “But do you remember what that man was here for? Maybe something he said to your papa or mama?”

Emma’s
brow scrunched. “He liked my mama’s biscuits. I ’member that.”

He’d eaten a meal with them? Every instinct within her said the man was an imposter. But how could she prove that? When Billings left earlier that morning, he’d told her he would send word when the circuit judge contacted him. That was the next step. As she understood from his explanation, if the judge believed that Harrison Talbot was Vince’s brother and therefore the legal heir, then Harrison Talbot would be awarded the ranch, and would have to pay the outstanding balance on the loan. Which, unfortunately, he could do. But if the judge disagreed, and upheld Janie’s last wish, then McKenna would be awarded the ranch. At which time she’d be right back in the position of facing a foreclosure because she didn’t have the money to pay.

She heaved a sigh as they crested the hill, not liking any of those possibilities. But one thing she was increasingly thankful for—she tightened her grip on Emma’s hand—neither man had mentioned anything about getting custody of Emma, and she hadn’t dared bring it up.

She breathed deep, her body still not fully adjusted to the high altitude. Emma, on the other hand, didn’t seem bothered by it in the least.

“Can I pick some flowers for Mama?”

McKenna glanced at the graves not far away and nodded.

“That’d be real sweet. She’d like that.”

As Emma set about her task, McKenna cleared off the various offerings they’d left at the foot of the graves through past weeks—wilted Columbine, a dead beetle Emma had been sure her little brother would like, and a chunk of pyrite, fool’s gold, as it was called, that Emma had found and wanted to give to her papa. But McKenna left the picture Emma had placed there beneath a rock. The etching was faded and the paper curled at the edges, but she could still make out the childish renderings of Vince, Janie, and baby Aaron “in heaven,” as Emma had said. And they were all smiling.

Emma returned with an armful of wildflowers, most of them weeds, some with dirt still clinging to the roots, and she distributed them between the two graves. McKenna thought again of Janie cradling her precious baby boy and felt a rightness about it inside her.

They stayed for only a while—a world of work waited below— and as they walked downhill, McKenna saw Wyatt astride his horse beside the cabin. He cut a fine figure sitting there, broad shouldered, with his dark duster draping the horse’s flanks. She couldn’t be sure, with the tilt of his hat, but she thought he might be looking in their direction. She offered the tiniest wave and his arm immediately rose in response, which brought a smile.

But her smile faded when she saw him turn his mount and ride down the road toward town. He’d told her he’d be gone most afternoons and late into the night working for the Marshals Office. She didn’t know what he did exactly, but seeing him ride away was a sobering reminder that his being here was only temporary. She flexed the fingers on her right hand, remembering his touch, and knowing she’d best not forget that.

That afternoon, she worked on her saddles and the hours passed quickly. Trenton had orders for seven now, and she decided to try something new by making parts for multiple saddles at once, instead of all the parts for one saddle. Today she braided edges to the skirts and carved her initials into the upper corners, as she did on all her saddles.

After dinner and evening chores were done—with Robert helping as little as possible, claiming he still needed bed rest, four days after the incident—McKenna couldn’t help questioning Emma about Harrison Talbot one last time. “Maybe,” she said, pulling up the covers and walking her fingers from Emma’s tummy, to her chest, then to her chin where she tickled her, “you remember that man because he looks like your papa.”

Emma didn’t answer for a moment. “He looks like my papa?”

Confusion strained her small voice, making it sound even more so in the flickering flame of the oil lamp. Question riddled the child’s eyes and McKenna regretted having brought the subject up again. “You know what? Never mind what I said.” She gently kissed Emma’s tiny nose and tucked her in. “He isn’t anything like your papa was.”

Emma smiled and hugged Clara close.

As McKenna closed Emma’s bedroom door behind her, Robert walked back inside the cabin. Seeing her, he suddenly stopped and reached for a nearby table. He limped back to the couch and heaved a sigh—a bit too much of one—and eased himself back down.

“Where have you been, Robert?”

“I just went out for some fresh air. Dr. Foster said to be sure and get up and move around a little, as long as I didn’t overdo it.” He shrugged. “I’m just following orders.”

McKenna couldn’t remember the last time her brother had followed anybody’s orders. Suspicious, she moved closer, alert for the scent of liquor, but caught only that of mint.

He held out a leaf, his eyes brighter than they’d been all day. “I found it growing outside by the barn. Want some?”

“No. Thank you,” she said, wondering where he’d hidden the bottle this time, but too weary to go out there and search for it. And too tired of fighting to confront him about it now. “I checked on the horses after dinner and didn’t see Patch . . . Janie’s horse, in the corral. Do you know where she is?”

Robert nodded. “I think I saw her in the lower field yesterday. Remember she got out that one time and I had to bring her back.”

“Tomorrow,
if
you feel up to it . . . would you please go get her and bring her back up?”

“If I feel up to it, I sure will.”

Not bothering to say good night, McKenna closed her bedroom door, shed her clothes, and slipped into her gown. She crawled into bed, barely conscious of her head touching the pillow.

Sometime later, she awakened, overly warm.

She kicked off the sheet and lay still, unmoving, in the darkness. Oblique moonlight painted the bedroom with an otherworldly feel, and she felt the faint throb of her heartbeat pulse gently in the hollow of her throat.
Who was that man?
She’d been so sure Emma wouldn’t recognize him. But after questioning the child, all doubt of that had been removed. Harrison Talbot, if that was his name, which she doubted, had been here to the homestead before. But for what purpose?

Unable to sleep, she got up and padded softly out to the main room. Robert was asleep on the couch. The clock on the mantle said it was half past two. She checked on Emma, then opened the front door just enough to slip outside but not enough to awaken the rusty hinges, and settled on the top porch step. She hugged her knees close to her chest. The barn was dark. She didn’t know if Wyatt had returned or not.

The breeze off the mountains felt like silk against her skin. She gazed up at the stars flung wide across the canopy of night, and likened it to an upturned bowl of shimmering candles held balanced between the highest peaks. The Colorado Territory in all its colors was more beautiful than any picture she’d seen of it back home. But would it prove to be the saving grace she’d once thought?

The distant thud of horse hooves carried on the night air, and McKenna stood and moved farther back into the shadows of the porch. She kept an eye on the darkened road leading to the homestead. If it were daylight, she could have seen the rider. As it was, the horse’s pace slowed a short distance down the road, and the rider’s approach grew quieter.

The rifle was just inside, but Wyatt had told her he would be coming in late. She hadn’t figured this late, but reasoning told her it was him. And when the rider dismounted by the barn, she recognized Wyatt’s stance and the way he moved.

She hadn’t made a sound when he stilled. He turned and looked directly at the cabin.

“Miss Ashford?”

She let out a held breath, embarrassed at having been caught spying. “Yes, I’m here.”

The chirrup of crickets sounded oddly like laughter
to her ears.

“Is everything all right, ma’am?”

“Yes, I was only—” She rolled her eyes in the dark. “Yes, Marshal Caradon, everything’s fine. I just couldn’t sleep.”