The Rancher's Return. Carolyne Aarsen
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 chair by her.
She held up her hand, but Carter moved the chair closer and then walked over to the railing beside his grandmother and settled himself on it, listening to the story as familiar to him as his grandmother’s face.
“As August courted Kamiskahk, he discovered she had a pouch of gold nuggets that she’d gotten from her father,” Nana continued, her eyes bright, warming to the story she loved to tell. “Kamiskahk’s father had sworn her to secrecy, telling her that if others found out there was gold in the valley, they would take it over and things would not be good for their people.”
“Why not?” Adam carefully opened the pouch of gummies and popped one in his mouth, his eyes wide.
“Because Kamiskahk’s father knew how people could be seized by gold fever. So Kamiskahk kept her word, and never told anyone about the gold … except for August. And August was soon filled with gold fever. He left Kamiskahk and went looking. For months he searched, dug and panned, never finding even a trace of the gold. Then, one day, exhausted, cold, hungry and lonely, hunched over a gold pan in an icy creek, he thought of Kamiskahk and the love she held for him. He felt ashamed that he had walked away from her. August put away his shovel and his gold pan and returned to Kamiskahk’s village, humbly asking her to take him back. She did, and he never asked about where the nuggets came from again.”
While Nana spoke, a gentle smile slipped across Emma’s face, and she leaned forward, as if to catch the story better.
Then her eyes slid from Nana to Carter. For a moment their gazes held. Her smile faded away, and he saw the humor in her brown eyes change to sympathy.
He didn’t want her to feel sorry for him. He wanted to see her smile again.
“August Beck never did find out where the gold came from. What had become more important was the love August Beck learned to value over gold. He and Kamiskahk settled in this valley and had a son, Able Beck, who got the ranch and the nuggets. Able had a son named Bill Beck. My husband.” Nana sat back, a satisfied smile wrinkling her lined cheeks. “I loved the story so much that Bill, my late husband, had the nuggets made into a bracelet for me.”
“That’s a wonderful story.” Emma’s voice was quiet, and her gaze slipped to the necklace lying on the Bible. “Is that made from the bracelet?”
Nana Beck picked up the necklace, threading the gold chain through her fingers. “Yes. It is.” Her eyes shifted to Carter. “I wanted to give each of my grandchildren a part of that bracelet as a reminder of their heritage.”
Emma cleared her throat and set her mug on the table between her and Nana Beck. “Thanks for the tea, but we should go. I promised Miranda I would help her with some sewing.”
“Can I stay here, Mom?” Adam asked. “I don’t want to sew.”
Emma knelt down and cupped his chin in her hand. “I know you don’t, but Mr. Carter hasn’t seen his nana for a long time, and I’m sure they want to visit alone.”
Adam heaved a sigh, and then with a toss of his head he got up. “Bye, Nana Beck,” he muttered, picking up his juice box and gummies. He was about to go when Emma nudged him again.
“Thanks for the treats,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” Nana said with an indulgent smile.
As they walked away, Adam gave Carter a wave. Then he followed his mother toward Wade and Miranda’s house. Carter’s old house.
Carter drew his attention back to his grandmother, who watched him with an indulgent smile. “She’s