Unwrapping The Rancher's Secret

Crofton had wondered about that for years. He’d felt utterly abandoned that day all those years ago. Hadn’t understood why his father had taken Sampson. With a shrug, he said, “He came West with my father and Amelia and Nate.”

“No, he didn’t.” Having wasted no time in seeing Bugsley to the door, Amelia was already walking back into the dining room. “We left him with you—your father insisted upon it.”

Memories flowed stronger than they had in years, and he clearly remembered coming home from school that day to find Sampson gone. He also recalled that his father had driven him to school in the buggy that morning, telling him all about Colorado during the ride. How they were going there to start another lumber mill, larger than the one in Ohio, and that as soon as the house was built, he’d be back to get him and his mother. Sampson had trotted along beside the horse. The memory of the last time he’d seen his father and Sampson was as clear right now as it had been back then. He’d stood in the school yard, watching his father drive away with Sampson running alongside the buggy. From then on, he had few memories. Sadness had clouded his young mind, along with train rides and hotels, and eventually the long ship ride to England. After arriving there, he’d chosen to forget more than he chose to remember. He lifted a shoulder. “I guess he must have died. I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember?” Sara asked.

He shook his head.

“Did he die in the fire?” she asked.

Having learned his mother had informed Winston he’d died when their Ohio house caught fire, he shook his head. “There was no fire. At least not while we lived there. I did stop by the old place on my way West. The barn was the same, but the house wasn’t.”

“Yes, there was a fire,” Amelia said. “It burned the house to the ground. Winston traveled back there and spoke to people about the fire. He also saw your grave, had a big headstone made for it.”

Having seen it himself, he told Amelia, “The headstone is in Baltimore.”

“Because that is where Ida claimed you were buried. She said you’d been burned in the house fire and she sent you to Baltimore for medical help, and that’s where you died. She buried you next to her father. Your grandfather.” Amelia sat back down at the table. “Where were you during that time?”

Crofton only had fragments of memories during that time, and his mother hadn’t enlightened him even when he’d asked. “I honestly don’t know.” Having strolled down memory lane—a place he rarely liked to visit—long enough, Crofton stood. “I thank you ladies for a wonderful,” nodding toward Amelia, he added, “and delicious, evening.”

Frowning, Amelia asked, “Where are you going?”

No longer wanting an invitation, he said, “I must acquire accommodations for the night at the hotel.”

“You will not,” Amelia stated. “You’ll be staying here. We have plenty of room, don’t we, Sara?”

She’d risen and was gathering dishes from the table. “Mr. Parks may find the accommodations at the hotel more hospitable.”

“He will not,” Amelia said. “There are three extra bedrooms upstairs, and he will use one of them. No arguments.” Piling dishes on the second tray, she added, “From either of you.”

Sara felt Amelia’s glare and Crofton’s curious stare on her back, and ignored them both as she carried the tray into the kitchen. She also heard Amelia continue insisting Crofton stay at the house. At the moment, her mind was too full of other things to care where he slept. He was part of what was dancing about inside her head—especially why his mother would have told Winston he’d died when he hadn’t. The other part of her was wondering about Bugsley. He’d seemed nervous tonight, and subdued. Of course the conversation and Amelia’s attitude could have been part of it. Amelia hadn’t liked Bugsley since he’d taken Nate’s place as Winston’s right-hand man.

Bugsley had worked for Winston before Nate had died during the rail road wars, but had become more essential afterward. Therefore, Sara could understand a small portion of Amelia’s dislike, but she’d never made it quite as obvious before.

Scraping clean the plates, her mind shifted once more—to that of Sampson. She’d often thought having a dog would be fun, but had never asked for one. Mother would never have approved. Life should focus on what was needed not wanted.

It was still that way.

“Well, that’s settled,” Amelia said, setting down the other tray. “Crofton will stay in the room at the end of the hall.”

Sara crossed the room to the stove to dip hot water from the reservoir into the washing bowl. Arguing wouldn’t solve anything; furthermore, he had more right to be in Winston’s house than she did, a fact that truly didn’t settle well.

“Now who could that be?”

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