Page 24 of Westbound Awakening

"It's the truth. I've come to terms with it. I just ask you sit with me and let me get to know you. Tell you as much as I can about myself and your inheritance." Mae clenched her teeth; he didn't have a right to ask anything of her. Her father chuckled. "You're probably thinking I'm lucky you even came." He was right of course. "And you're right about that. I was proud and stupid. When your mother told me she was expecting, it was right after I'd become engaged to Mary. My fiancée was a good woman. And she came from a respectable, wealthy family. At first I planned to return here to Texas and break off the engagement. Then I became terrified. And well too proud to admit to her family and mine I'd been unfaithful to Mary and fathered a child out of wedlock. At twenty-eight, I should have known better. Instead of cowering, I should have been a man and not succumbed to pride. I admit her money was also a factor." Well his statement cinched it; he was her father. Honest and to the point of crassness.

He'd been the same age as she was now. She could relate to pride, but greed, was something she didn't understand. "So now you get this large ranch and it is prosperous, so something came of my cowardly act I suppose."

His chuckle was without mirth. "The sad thing is, I bought it and prospered this ranch without any monetary help from Mary or her family. After meeting you, guilt followed me, a heavy burden I could not lay down. I threw myself into work and prospering this land." He shook his head. I will admit to you I fell in love with your mother the instant I met her, and I wish I'd never abandoned her. It was the hardest thing I've ever done."

Mae blinked at his confession. If only her mother had known. Perhaps she did; they had both loved each other, and the ending was tragic. On some level she could relate to it.

"Mary and I never had much of a marriage. Through the years, she was a good wife to me." Her father continued.

"What happened to her?" Mae asked.

Her father looked past her to a dresser along the wall. Mae followed his line of sight to see a portrait of a young dark-haired woman dressed in a flowing gown. With a hand on her lap and another on the arm of a chair, she looked into the distance, her face solemn except for a slight lift at one side of her mouth. "Mary died of a pneumonia; she was always frail."

"I'm sorry."

"Yes well, I am too. I never made her happy. Sometimes I wondered if she grieved for another, a lost love or heartbreaking romantic interest. She never said anything. At times however, her melancholy was so heavy, it weighed down those around her." Again he closed his eyes, this time his breathing became labored.

Mae studied the woman in the picture, the eyes told a story of loss and sadness. So much like her mother's. "I should let you rest."

"Come visit me after supper daughter. I would like to speak of the accounts. Bring the ledgers with you. Elma knows where they are kept." His eyes closed and his rasping pants slowed.

Making her way to the kitchen, Mae stopped at the doorway into the large room to the right of the entryway. A huge fireplace flanked by twin leather chairs, each with a wooden footstool faced another pair of wooden chairs with overstuffed cushions. Over the fireplace a rustic mantle, over it a large landscape painting of what looked to be the surrounding lands. The curtains framing the windows were long and cream colored, the thick fabric capable of keeping light out and heat in.

She moved inside running her hand along the back of one of the chairs. Her eyes took in the room, lighting on a large porcelain vase. It was painted with an intricate design of a floral bouquet that took her breath away. She traced it with a fingertip. Could I live here?

"Hello cousin," at the masculine voice Mae gasped and thrust the vase forward. The vessel tottered, and she grabbed it with both hands to steady it.

A stocky sandy brown haired man who looked to be about thirty stepped toward her. "I'm sorry. I thought you heard me walk in." He held his hand out. "I'm Joshua, and you must be Mae."

Mae shook his hand. "Hello Joshua, I've heard good things about you. I just left my father's room, I suppose I was deep in thought and didn't hear you approach."

Joshua nodded. "How is he?"

"Elma says he seems better. To me he looks frail and in a lot of pain."

"Uncle Joe has been hanging in there waiting for you to return. He's a strong old man." Sorrow etched on his face when Joshua's brown eyes searched hers. "I don't expect you'll believe me, but he cares for you deeply."

She bit back an irate retort; it wouldn't do any good to argue with people who obviously held her father in high regard. "I want to talk to you about the ranch. It doesn't strike me as fair for it to be given to me and not you. It's obvious my father cares for you, and you've been working the land. Not to mention, you've been here all along to help."

Joshua smiled. "Aunt Mary left me her lands. They neighbor Hawkins' lands on the east side and rivals them in size. A couple hundred acres of prime, rich land is all mine." He gave her an easy smile and she found it easy to relax with him. "I appreciate it Mae, but I don't need what by all rights belongs to you."

"I -- I don't know anything about ranching," Mae stuttered. "I'm not even sure wish to remain in Texas."

"Well, you'll make the right decision when the time comes. I'll help you hire another good ranch hand to help Alan if need be. I've been lending a hand since Uncle Joe took ill. To continue for much longer is too much for me to do alone with only Alan."

"I see." Mae sunk into the nearest chair. "I appreciate your honesty. You could have just taken the ranch and sold it or something."

"Now that would not be right." Joshua gave her a patient look, which made her feel childish. "It's all right to be scared Mae, but the land out there." He pointed out the window. "Well Mae, it's your birthright and if you're meant to stay, it will call to you to do so." He took a breath. "Well, I better go see the old man. Nice meeting you."

Mae listened to Joshua's footsteps until they became faint. Would she remain in Texas? Maybe her future was here. The only truth right now was she just missed John. It was the only truth. This was not what she expected at all. No, she thought at the most she'd remain two weeks, speak to her father and book a passage on the stagecoach back to Virginia. Now she wasn't sure if she could leave, at least not until she figured out what to do with the land. Her father was on the brink of death, the glaze in his eyes, the dullness, being telltale signs of an imminent end.

Gray eyes formed in her mind, followed by John's face and then the distinct line of his straight nose, and smooth jawline. The depth of his voice when he'd moaned while kissing her, echoed in her mind. Mae squeezed her eyes tight needing to keep the vision longer. Surely he didn't think of her. No, he was reunited with his family and starting a new life. At the thought of him kissing another woman, a knot formed in her throat and she struggled to swallow. "No."

"Senorita, dinner is ready." Elma interrupted her thoughts. "Would you like it brought here?"

Mae straightened and lifted her hand to her hair to smooth it from her face before turning to the woman. "I would appreciate it. Thank you, Elma. And can you tell me where the ledgers are please? Father wants to review them with me after I eat so I'd like to look them over."

Elma went to a cabinet to the right of the door and opened a drawer. From it she pulled two large ledgers and brought them to Mae. "This one is for household expenses," she handed it to her. "And this one is where the Senor Hawkins keeps track of all the other ranching expenses and incoming money."