Stranded With The Rancher. Rebecca Winters

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       Chapter One

      Wyatt Fielding exhaled slowly and straightened his back, then knocked on the lawyer’s open door. “Mr. Derrick? Your secretary told me to come in.”

      “Of course, Mr. Fielding. Please sit down.”

      “Thank you.”

      “Can I offer you tea, coffee, a soft drink?”

      “Nothing, thanks,” Wyatt said. Though a cool drink would have been refreshing in the August heat, he wasn’t sure he could stomach anything at the moment.

      “I’m sorry I couldn’t see you until today. I had business out of town all week.”

      “I understand. When I made inquiries about who was the best attorney in Wyoming, your name came up many times. As I told you on the phone last week, mine isn’t truly a criminal case, but what happened to me felt criminal at the time. I left a retainer with your secretary.”

      The other man nodded. “Go ahead and tell me your story. I’m recording our conversation.”

      Wyatt cleared his throat, swallowing past the dry lump there. “Eleven years ago I graduated from high school in Whitebark, Wyoming.”

      “That’s clear across the state.”

      “Yes. Wind River Country.”

      “One of my favorite places to vacation. Go on.”

      “I was in love with a girl and we were expecting a child. We wanted to get married, but she wouldn’t turn eighteen until August, so we decided to keep everything quiet until after her birthday, then get married.”

      “So her parents didn’t know?”

      He shook his head. “They disapproved of their daughter being involved with anyone. She couldn’t go to them. But in July she suffered a miscarriage at six weeks and was taken to the hospital. At that point, her parents would have been told what was wrong. She got word to me at the ranch through one of the nurses. I rushed over to the hospital the next morning to be with her. To my shock, I learned she’d been discharged and sent home.

      “I then drove to her house. Her parents told me she no longer lived with them, that I wasn’t welcome there anymore, and that I shouldn’t try to find their daughter.

      “I hurried home to tell my grandparents. I’d brought Jenny to our home lots of times. They knew we were in love and they would have let us be married at home. But under the circumstances, they advised me that her parents were in control. I should wait until I heard from Jenny.

      “When a week went by with no phone call or letter, I was half out of my mind and went to the hospital to talk to the doctor who had taken care of her. I was told nothing. I begged the head of the hospital to at least give me some information about her health, about where she’d gone, about the miscarriage. He said he couldn’t disclose private records.

      “I went back to the ranch feeling as if I’d had an out-of-body experience. That nothing was real. All our plans and dreams destroyed.”

      The attorney’s brows lifted. “To this day you’ve never had word of her?”

      “No. Two months later I went by her house and saw a for-sale sign in the yard. The neighbor across the street said they’d moved with no forwarding address.”

      “That’s a tragic story. I’m very sorry, Mr. Fielding.”

      Wyatt leaned forward with his hands clasped. “My grandparents raised me after the age of five and have been my mentors. They wanted to get counseling for me, but I fought it. Before my grandmother died, she urged me to talk this out with someone because she knew the experience had changed me. Both she and my grandfather feared I’d go through life carrying this burden.”

      “Were they right?”

      “Yes,” Wyatt admitted.

      “What brought you to the point you came to me?”

      “I’m a sheep rancher and volunteer firefighter. I’m good friends with another firefighter who recently married after being separated nine years from his high school sweetheart. He came back to Whitebark still in love with her memory, and they found their way back to each other.”

      “Is that what you’re hoping? That if you find her, you’ll get back together, too?”

      Wyatt shook his head. “I don’t know. What I’d like to do is find out where she is and how she’s doing. I’m praying she’s married with children and happy. That would help me a lot. It would probably be too much to ask if she were willing to talk to me about the loss of the baby. Neither of us had closure, but I would never want to disturb her life. Just knowing she’s all right would give me peace of mind.”

      “Are you asking me to find her?”

      “Yes. Any information would be helpful.”

      “All right. Give me the particulars you can about her and her family.”

      “Her name is Jenny Allen and by now she would be twenty-nine, like me. She was an only child. Her parents were Joseph and Marjorie Allen. I learned they moved to Whitebark, Wyoming, from Hardin, Montana, after she was born.

      “Her dad had been a pastor at a church there and took over at the church in Whitebark when the local pastor died. Her father had a widowed aunt in Miles City, Montana, but the woman passed away while we were dating. Jenny might have had family on her mother’s side, but I never met anyone. That’s all I know.”

      “Give me her physical description.”

      “She was five-four, about 118 pounds, slender, with brown eyes and brown hair she wore swept back in a ponytail. She had a one-inch scar above the elbow of her left arm where she once got cut on the ice as a child. Jenny was soft-spoken.”

      “Good. Were you on speaking terms with her parents?”

      “No. Jenny never invited me to her home. They were very strict, but I had no idea how difficult it must have been for her until the day they closed the door on me. Do you think you can find her?”

      “I could, but why not hire a private investigator yourself?”

      “I sought you out because I know of the connections СКАЧАТЬ