Shadows from the Past. Lindsay McKenna
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ever lose us, Kam,” Morgan assured her, his voice growing raspy.
Kam searched his blue-gray eyes and saw tears. “You’ve given me so much. You are so generous, kind and caring….”
“And we’ll always be that way with you, Kam. When you love someone, that never changes. Time only deepens love. And that’s how we feel about you. I’m sure Laura will be glad to hear your plans.”
Just like that, Kam’s heart stopped racing and she felt more at peace. “So, you really think Mom will be okay with this?”
Morgan chuckled and sat back in his chair. “If I know her, she’ll want to help you find your birth father. Listen to me, Kam. All we want is for you to be happy. We know how much it means to have those few items from your mother’s apartment. Parents are bedrock for a child. They tell you where you came from, what kind of person loved you enough to have you. And now, you need to find your birth father.”
“He’s never come to find me…” Kam choked. Tears blurred her vision for a moment. “You don’t know how many nights I lay up there in my bed wondering why he never came to see me. I—I have had so many nightmares about this, Dad. That he didn’t want me…”
The words were terrible to say. To admit. Kam thought them often, but to say them out loud was like having a weight sit on her that she could no longer avoid or dodge. She saw Morgan’s face twist with concern.
“Kammie, don’t go there. At least, not yet. What if he didn’t know about you?”
“I’ve run through that scenario,” Kam admitted. “But if that was so, why didn’t my mother contact him? Tell him she was pregnant with me? Why didn’t he return to her life and take the responsibility?”
Shrugging, Morgan said gently, “We won’t know those answers until you find him and confront him.”
She pressed a hand to her chest. “I just get so envious of people who know who their birth moms and dads are. I ache inside because I don’t. I just feel this huge hole in my heart and there’s nothing that can really fill it except to know who my father is.”
“I know,” Morgan whispered, a catch in his tone. Reaching out, he squeezed Kam’s hand. “One step at a time, baby girl. When we have dinner tonight, let your mom know what you want to do. I’ll bet she can help.”
Nodding, Kam clung to his hand. Morgan Trayhern was a giant in the military and spy business. His reputation was one of respect, integrity and admiration. This man, who was so powerful, was also her dad, the man who had raised her with nothing but love. Kam knew how lucky she was, and, as she sat there clinging to his grip, she understood that her biological father would never meet his stature of this man.
LAURA AND MORGAN sat with Kam after the dinner table had been cleared. Having just finished dessert—Napoleons that Laura had made from scratch—they regarded the photo. Fragrant coffee steamed nearby in white ceramic mugs.
“I’ve looked at this photo before,” Laura told her daughter, as she took a sip of her coffee. “You know what drew me?”
“What?” Kam asked, excited that her adoptive parents were proactive on her decision.
“See that bolo tie that cowboy is wearing?”
Kam looked closely. There was a handsome sterling-silver bolo tie, oval in shape, with an elk head on it. The antlers spread from the middle to the top of the bolo. “Yes.”
“I’ve often wondered about that bolo tie. Whether it was a hint,” Laura said.
“Plus,” Morgan added, “a long time ago I had my assistant research the veterinary convention and we got the names of two out of the three men in that photograph with your mother. The one we don’t have is the cowboy on the end. Maybe he wasn’t really attending the convention but was there because of your mother. Or maybe their records are incomplete and he was a convention guest.”
“I know,” Kam said, frowning. “The dairy and beef convention was held annually in Los Angeles. Mom was a veterinary researcher and she was one of the speakers.” She pointed to the two men in the photo. “We know the guy in the business suit was a sales rep for a testing lab and the other one was a scientist who worked with Mom.” Her gaze drifted back to the unidentified cowboy. “My gut just tells me he’s the one. I can’t prove it, but I know it.”
Laura patted her hand. “Women have that strong intuition. We know without knowing why we know what we know.” She grinned over at Kam.
Laura’s touch made Kam feel steadier and stronger. “So, all we have to go on is a bolo tie. I’ve wracked my brain on this for years trying to figure out what the bolo tie might mean, Mom. There’s no writing on the bolo tie to say it was this ranch or that. No leads.”
“Maybe we need to look on Google,” Laura said. She had been a military researcher and writer in the Pentagon for years before she’d met and married Morgan, and she hadn’t lost her knack for research. “I know you’ve been looking for the image on the Net without success.”
“I’ve tried many times before but nothing comes up,” Kam said. “Images are always being added and I keep hoping you’ll find something on it.”
“Because you’re not a researcher,” Laura said, smiling. “So now, let me show you some of the tools I use now that you’re ready to find him.”
Kam rose, excited. She knew her mother was an ace researcher. Not only that but she’d waited for Kam to be ready in her search. “Dad? You want to come?”
Morgan shook his head. “No, you two go ahead. There’s not much room in that makeshift office you moved into your bedroom,” and he smiled.
Understanding, Kam got to her feet. Laura picked up her coffee and they went up the stairs to her room.
Typing in the two words as she and Laura sat close to one another before the laptop, Kam saw a slew of listings from an archival Web site that Laura used. She quickly strolled through the possibilities and then went to the next set of ten. For the next hour, Laura went through decades of images on the site.
Finally, when Kam was losing hope, Laura gave her a smile.
“Look at this,” Laura said, pointing a finger at one entry. “Elkhorn Ranch, Jackson Hole, Wyoming.” She clicked on the link and immediately a Web page for a dude ranch came up.
Kam gasped. “There’s the elk symbol from his bolo tie!” The exact symbol from her photograph was emblazoned in the upper left-hand corner. Her heart started galloping once more.
“Hmmm,” Laura murmured, running her finger over the pad to get the pointer to the left in a column. She clicked on About Us.
Kam saw a multigenerational family portrait. Her breath hitched. In the back, the tallest figure standing in the middle of the family was the man in her photo, only older. Graying at his temples, he still wore a handlebar mustache and a black Stetson cowboy hat. His long arms were wrapped around his wife and an older woman. Two teenage children sat in front of them. An ache built in her chest. “His name is Rudd Mason,” she read out loud in a hushed tone.
“And he owns this dude ranch,” Laura rapidly read below the family portrait. “Wife is Allison Dubois-Mason, children Regan and Zach. The other woman is Rudd’s mother, Iris Mason.”
“It says he owns a fifty-thousand-acre family ranch surrounded by the Grand Teton National Park,” Kam murmured, rapidly devouring the rest of the information. “He runs an organic beef herd and sells nationally to restaurants and food stores who want the clean meat.”
“Iris Mason sounds like a real interesting woman,” Laura noted, tapping her finger to the paragraph below. “She’s a herbalist and sells her flower essences worldwide.” Laura glanced over at Kam. “Remember how much you love gardening? You even loved weeding.”
Kam nodded. Her favorite thing growing up had been helping Laura