The Rancher's Return. Carolyne Aarsen

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      He closed his eyes, memories falling over themselves. His son in the yard. Harry’s laugh. The way he loved riding horses—

      The wham of the door pulled him out of those painful memories. Nana sat down again, her hands resting on a paper-wrapped package lying on her lap.

      “Having this heart attack has been like a wake-up call for me in so many ways,” she said, her voice subdued and serious. “I feel like I have been given another chance to have some kind of influence in my grandchildren’s lives. So, on that note, this is for you.” She gave him the package. “I want you to open it up now so I can explain what this is about.”

      Carter frowned but did as his Nana asked. He unwrapped a Bible. He opened the book, leafing through it as if to show Nana that he appreciated the gesture, when all it did was create another wave of anger with the God the Bible talked about.

      He found the inscription page and read it.

      “To Carter, from your Nana. To help you find your way back home.”

      He released a light laugh. Home. Did he even have one anymore? The ranch wasn’t home if his son wasn’t here.

      Losing Sylvia when Harry was born had been hard enough to deal with. He’d been angry with God for taking away his wife so young, so soon. But he’d gotten through that.

      But for God to take Harry? When Carter had been working so hard to provide and take care of him?

      “There’s something else.” Nana gave him another small box. “This isn’t as significant as the Bible, but I wanted to give this to remind you of your roots and how important they are.”

      With a puzzled frown, Carter took the jeweler’s box and lifted the lid. Nestled inside lay a gold chain. He lifted it up, and his puzzlement grew. Hanging from the chain was a coarse gold nugget in a plain setting. It looked familiar.

      Then he glanced at Nana’s wrist. Empty.

      “Is this one of the charms from your bracelet?” he asked quietly, letting the sun play over the gold nugget.

      “Yes. It is.” Nana touched it with a forefinger, making it spin in the light.

      “But this is a necklace.”

      “I took the five charms from my bracelet and had each of them made into a necklace. I am giving one to each of the grandchildren.”

      “But the bracelet came from Grandpa—”

      “And the nuggets on the bracelet came from your great-great-grandmother Kamiskahk.”

      “I brought you potatoes, Nana Beck,” Adam called out, running toward them, holding up a pail.

      There it was again. The name his son used to address his grandmother coming from the lips of this little boy.

      It jarred him in some odd way he couldn’t define.

      Adam stopped when he saw what Carter held. “Wow, that’s so pretty.” He dropped his pail on the veranda with a “thunk” and walked toward Carter, his eyes on the necklace Carter still held up. “It sparkles.”

      In spite of his previous discomfort with the little boy, Carter smiled at the tone of reverence in Adam’s voice.

      “Gold fever is no respecter of class or age,” he said, swinging it back and forth, making it shimmer in the sun.

      “Is that a present for Nana Beck?” Adam asked.

      “No. It’s a present from me to him,” Nana said, glancing from Carter to Adam.

      “That’s silly. Nanas don’t give presents to big people.”

      “You’re not the only one I give presents to,” Nana Beck said with a smile.

      Carter couldn’t stop the flush of pain at the thought that his grandmother, who should be giving gifts to his son, was giving them to this little boy.

      “Adam, don’t bother Nana Beck right now.” Emma hurried up the walk to the veranda and pulled gently back on his shoulder. She glanced from Nana to Carter, an apologetic smile on her face. “Sorry to disturb your visit. Adam was a little eager to make his delivery.”

      “Did you see that pretty necklace that Mr. Carter has?” Adam pointed to the necklace that Carter had laid down on the Bible in his lap. “Is it real gold?”

      “Actually, it is,” Nana Beck said. “I got it made from a bracelet I used to wear. Did you know the story about the bracelet, Adam?”

      “There’s a story?” Adam asked, his voice pipingly eager.

      Carter looked away. Being around this boy grew harder each second in his presence. Harry had never heard the story about his Nana’s bracelet. The story was part of Harry’s legacy and history, and now this little boy, a complete stranger to him, would be hearing it.

      “Adam, honey, we should go,” Emma said quietly, as if she sensed Carter’s pain.

      “I want to hear the story,” Adam said.

      “Stay a moment,” Nana Beck urged. “Have some tea.”

      “No … I don’t think …” Emma protested.

      “That’s silly. Carter, why don’t you get Emma a mug, and please bring back a juice box and a bag of gummy snacks for Adam. They’re in the cupboard beside the mugs.”

      Carter gladly made his escape. Once in the kitchen, he rested his clenched hands on the counter, feeling an ache in the cold place in the center of his chest where his heart lay. He drew in a long, steadying breath. This was too hard. Every time Adam spoke, it was a vivid reminder of his own son.

      Carter closed his eyes and made himself relax. He had seen boys the age of his son’s before.

      Just not on the ranch where …

      Carter slammed his hands on the counter, then pushed himself straight. He had to get past this. He had to move on.

      And how was that supposed to happen as long as he still owned the ranch, a visible reminder of what he had lost?

       Chapter Two

      “… So August Beck looked across the river and into the eyes of a lovely Kootenai native named Kamiskahk,” Nana was saying, telling Emma and Adam the story of the nuggets when Carter returned to the veranda.

      Nana Beck shot Carter a quick glance as he set the mug down, poured Emma a cup of tea and gave Adam the juice box and gummies he’d found in Nana’s “treat cupboard.”

      “Thank you, Mr. Carter,” Adam said, but the little boy’s attention quickly shifted back to Nana.

      Emma sat on the floor of the veranda, her back against the pillar, her dark hair pushed away from her face looking at ease.

      “Sit down here,” he said, setting the СКАЧАТЬ