The Rancher's Return. Carolyne Aarsen
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a day to be alive,” Nana Beck said, accepting the mug of tea Carter had poured. She settled into her chair on the veranda and eased out a gentle sigh.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Carter said quietly, spooning a generous amount of honey into his tea. “Really glad.”
“No inheritance for you and your cousins yet,” she said with a wink.
“I can wait.” He couldn’t share her humor. He didn’t want to think that his grandmother could have died while he was working up in the Northwest Territories on that pipeline job. Knowing she was okay eased a huge burden off his shoulders.
She gave him a gentle smile. “So can I.” She reached over and covered his hand with hers. “I’m so glad you came home.”
“I tried to come as soon as Shannon got hold of me. But I couldn’t get out of the camp. We were socked in with rain, and the planes couldn’t fly.” He gave her a smile, guilt dogging him in spite of her assurances. “So how are you feeling?”
“The doctor said that I seem to be making a good recovery,” Nana said, leaning back in her chair, her hands cradling a mug of tea. “He told me that I was lucky that Shannon was with me here on the ranch when I had the heart attack. They caught everything soon enough, so I should be back to normal very soon.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Carter said. “I was worried about you.”
“Were you? Really?” The faintly accusing note in his grandmother’s voice resurrected another kind of guilt.
“I came back because I was worried, and I came as soon as I could.” He gave her a careful smile.
“You’ve been away too long.” Her voice held an underlying tone of sympathy he wanted to avoid.
“Only two years,” he said, lounging back in his chair. He hoped he achieved the casual and in-control vibe he aimed for. He would need it around his grandmother.
Nana Beck had an innate ability to separate baloney from the truth. Carter knew he would need all his wits about him when he told her that his visit was temporary.
And that he wouldn’t be talking about his son.
“Two years is a long time.” She spoke quietly, but he heard the gentle reprimand in her voice. “I know why you stayed away, but I think it’s a good thing you’re back. I think you need to deal with your loss.”
“I’m doing okay, Nana.” He took a sip of tea, resting his ankle on his knee, hoping he looked more in control than he felt. He’d spent the past two years putting the past behind him. Moving on.
Then the sound of Adam’s voice rang across the yard from the garden.
“So how long have the woman and her boy lived here?” He avoided his grandmother’s gaze. He doubted she appreciated the sudden topic switch.
“Emma and Adam have been here about six months,” she said, looking over to where Adam kneeled in the dirt of the garden beside his mother, sorting potatoes. Emma’s hair, now free from her ponytail, slipped over her face as she bent over to drop potatoes in the pail. He had thought her hair was brown, but the sunlight picked out auburn highlights.
“She’s a wonderful girl,” his grandmother continued. “Hard worker. Very devoted to her son. She loves being here on the ranch. She grew up on one, worked on her father’s ranch before she came here.”
Carter dragged his attention back to his grandmother. “I’m sure she’s capable, or else Wade wouldn’t have hired her.”
“She raised her boy without any help,” his grandmother went on, obviously warming to her topic. “I believe she even rode the rodeo for a while. Of course, that was before she had her son. She’s had her moments, but she’s such a strong Christian girl.”
Carter’s only reply to his grandmother’s soliloquy in praise of Emma was an absent nod.
“She’s had a difficult life, but you’d never know it. She doesn’t complain.”
“Life’s hard for many people, Nana.”
“I know it is. It’s been difficult watching my daughters making their mistakes. Your mom coming back here as a single mother—your aunt Denise returning as a divorced woman. Trouble was, they came here to hide. To lick their wounds. Neither have been the best example to your brother and your cousins of where to go when life is hard, as you said. So to remind you I’ve got something for you.” Nana slowly got to her feet. When Carter got up to help her, she waved him off. She walked into the house, and the door fell closed behind her. In the quiet she left behind, Carter heard Adam say something and caught Emma’s soft laugh in reply.
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