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  The nattily dressed man held out his hand. Sam tried to wipe off some of the sawdust, but his hands were filthy. Mr. Bennington shook his hand anyway.

  “Ty Bennington. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Carver. I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but you favor your mother quite a bit. You have her look about you.” Mr. Bennington seemed to be in his late thirties, with light brown hair and brown eyes.

  Mention of Sam’s mother made him start. “How the hell did you know my mother?”

  “Sam, be nice,” Angeline scolded. “Just listen to what he has to say.”

  “I met your mother about thirty-two years ago, right after she married your father. I was just a boy, but I remember how beautiful she was. Her hair was fascinating to a six-year-old.” He grinned.

  “She did have beautiful hair. Now, tell me what you’re doing here and why.” Sam was done trying to figure out what the stranger wanted, much less play a game as to who had known his mother better.

  “I work for Bennington and Hunter, a law firm in Denver started by my grandfather and his partner. My family has always been the attorneys for your father’s family.” The win blew a cloud of sawdust on the attorney, but to his credit, he simply ignored it.

  “My father doesn’t have a family.” Sam had asked many times as a child if he had a grandpa like his friends.

  The lawyer raised one brow. “Yes, actually he does. Why don’t we go inside and sit down? I have some papers for you to sign.”

  “Papers?” Sam had no idea what Bennington wanted, but the mention of papers made him suspicious.

  “I will explain everything, I promise. Your wife offered me some coffee. If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate the beverage. I’m parched from the ride over.” Bennington watched him with a gaze that could have been honest or deceptive. Sam couldn’t tell which it was.

  “Fine, let’s go inside, and I’ll wash up.” He met Angeline’s gaze, and she shrugged her shoulders. Whatever Bennington wanted, it would be a mystery until the man got a cup of coffee.

  The three of them walked back inside to find Lettie at the kitchen table. She glanced up at them, her gaze turning distrustful when she spotted the stranger. “Who the hell is that?”

  Bennington stared at her with raised brows. “I’m Ty Bennington.”

  “I don’t know who you are, Ty Bennington, but I don’t take kindly to strangers staring at me.” She got up and left the room.

  “How about that coffee? It’s still hot.” Angeline headed for the pot on the stove.

  “I appreciate the offer.” Bennington sat down and opened his case.

  Sam washed up in the sink as fast as he could, more than curious to figure out what the man had to say, whether he was loco, but most of all, he wanted information about his father’s family. All his life, his Pa had insisted he had no family, no uncles, grandpas, or cousins. His mother’s family had moved around so much, she’d lost contact with them when Sam had been a small boy. He’d had no one but his parents, until he’d met Angeline. Now, he only had her, Lettie, and Jessup.

  Angeline poured three cups of coffee just as Sam finished drying his hands. They sat down with Mr. Bennington, who had placed several documents on the table.

  “I don’t know what your father told you about his family. I’ll tell you what I know. He was born Michael Andrew Carver on February first, eighteen-twenty to Benson and Mary Carver in Denver, Colorado. He was the only son in a family of four children. His three sisters stayed in Denver, while your father, well, he had a wandering spirit.” Bennington smiled. “After he turned eighteen, he spent a few years exploring and returned with your mother in eighteen-forty-two. She was already pregnant with you.”

  “That sounds about right. I was born in January eighteen-forty-three.” Sam sipped at the coffee while his insides were jumping like frogs. He’d had no idea about anything to do with his father’s early life or where he’d come from. The fact his father had three sisters was astonishing.

  “Your mother was gracious, beautiful and soft-spoken, but she was also half-Indian, the daughter of a white man and an Indian woman. The elder Mr. Carver,” Mr. Bennington paused, “well, he didn’t appreciate his only son and heir marrying what he termed a savage. After what I hear were epic battles over the marriage, Benson Carver disowned his son and kicked him out of the house.” Bennington looked apologetic, but the information was devastating nonetheless.

  “This is why he told me he had no family? Because his father was an ass?” Sam was angry and disappointed. To know his own family had shunned him before he was even born left a bitter taste in his mouth.

  “Benson Carver was somewhat overbearing. He used to scare me when I was a child. Mary Carver was just as sweet and soft-spoken as Sparrow. In fact, they got along well. So well in fact, I discovered your mother had corresponded with your grandmother for years after she and your father left Denver.” Bennington set down a stack of yellowed envelopes tied with a pink ribbon. “When Mary passed away two years ago, she left these in trust for you.”

  Sam felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. He stared at the stack of letters, knowing his mother had learned to write after insisting his father teach her. Now, he knew she’d done it to keep in contact with Sam’s grandmother. Yet she’d never said a word about any of it to Sam. His grandmother had been alive until only two years ago. He’d missed the opportunity to know her.

  “The firm knew where you and your family lived here in Wyoming. We’ve kept track of you under the provisions of Mary’s will. She had taken over the business ten years ago when your grandfather died. The business actually belonged to your father, although we’ve held it in trust for him. We tried to contact him, but he never responded to any correspondence.” Bennington handed Sam a thick document. “This is Mary’s will, naming your father Michael as the heir to Carver Industries. In the event of his death, you are the named heir.”

  Angeline moved her chair closer to his, while Sam tried his best not to run from the house. He didn’t understand any of it, and he was too overwhelmed to form a coherent thought. His angel, however, saved him yet again.

  “Mr. Bennington, this is a lot of information. Are you saying that Sam has family in Denver, that he owns something called Carver Industries, and you’ve come here to give him the legal paperwork to claim all of it?” She held onto Sam’s hand with a firm grip.

  “Yes, that’s a good summary of everything.” Bennington looked apologetic. “I know it’s a lot of information, but if you’ll travel to Denver, I can show you all of it.”

  “What do you mean, all of it? What is Carver Industries?” Angeline sounded much calmer than Sam was. In fact, she was beginning to sound angry.

  “Carver Industries is a company begun by Sam’s grandfather, Benson. It has become the leading transportation provider in Colorado and beyond. He began with stagecoaches and wagons, but the company now includes trains. It’s a major shipping hub, providing goods to people all over the west. Your company alone is worth approximately fifteen million dollars.”

  A blackness roared through Sam’s head as he gaped at the lawyer. He could not handle any more information. Not one shred more. Sam left the house at a dead run, leaving Angeline to deal with the lawyer.

  He didn’t want the man to see him cry.

  Angeline stared at the lawyer, who stared at Sam’s retreating back. She was shaking, wondering if this man was a shyster or if everything he’d said was true. If it was, then Michael had given up a fortune for his Sparrow. Love had sustained him all his adult life; it had helped him raise Sam and thrive without much to live by.

  It was amazing, astonishing, and humbling. She had liked Michael; he’d been a good man and a good father. There were so many questions she had for her father-in-law, ones that would never be answered now.

  “You’ve come now because Michael is dead.” Angeline stated flatly. “Where were you two years ago?”

  “I told you, we tried to contact him but without success.” Bennington
gestured to the papers. “We’ve sent copies of Mary’s will and the business information on numerous occasions.”

  “Michael was suffering from a loss of faculties the last two years. He was forgetful, confused, and often times, lost in the past rather than the present.” She touched the edge of the will with one finger. “He probably didn’t understand what you sent him, or perhaps the mere mention of his family made him so upset he burned the papers without reading them.”

  Ty looked stricken. “I had no idea.”

  “Of course, you didn’t. Sam hid it from everyone. Sparrow died ten years ago, so there was no one to watch over Michael but his son.” Angeline met his gaze. “Why didn’t anyone come to see him instead of sending papers?”

  The lawyer’s cheeks flushed. “I took over the case two months ago. There is no excuse why my firm didn’t come in person before now.”

  Satisfied she’d made her point, Angeline stacked everything neatly on the table. “It’s going to take some time for Sam to accept all this. If you can leave these here, I will make sure he reads through them.”

  “Yes, of course, these are copies for him. I was planning on staying here in town until everything was signed. We’ve had an offer to purchase Carver Industries, and I have to present it to your husband, in addition to the rest of the legal paperwork giving him possession of the house and assets in Denver.” Bennington rose to his feet. “I’ll be over at the hotel. I was told they serve good meals at The Blue Plate.”

  Angeline smiled. “The food is wonderful there. You’ll not leave hungry.”

  “I’ll wait to hear from you or your husband.” Bennington took her hand and shook it gently. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Carver.”

  Angeline walked the lawyer out the front door then leaned her forehead against the wood. She was shaken and confused, but not nearly as confused as Sam had to be. He was hurt, and there was only one place he would go—the lake.

  Sam contemplated going swimming, but the water was still very cold. Still, it might do him good to jump into the cool water, help numb the confusion and pain he felt. His parents had kept secrets from him, and not just little white lies told to children. These were huge, life-changing secrets.

  He felt betrayed.

  Soft footsteps behind him didn’t make him move an inch. He knew by her scent that it was his angel. She sat down beside him, as she’d done before, and looked out on the lake with him. Without a word, she simply took his hand and sat beside him, giving him her quiet strength.

  “Is he gone?”

  “Yes, but not far. He’s got papers for you to sign, so he’s staying at the hotel until everything’s done.”

  Sam nodded. The lawyer wasn’t to blame. He was a messenger sent to bring information, not to wreak havoc, yet that’s exactly what he’d done.

  “I’m not very good company right now.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m protecting the rest of the town from you.” Angeline sounded completely matter-of-fact.

  Sam managed to lightly squeeze her hand. “I’m angry with them.”

  “I would be, too.”

  “They kept information from me, kept my family from me. Dammit, they lied to me.” Sam’s chest hurt just contemplating how much lying his parents had done.

  “They loved you, and they loved each other. Your father gave up his family because he loved Sparrow so much. It wasn’t his fault they couldn’t see how wonderful she was. Many people are taught to hate, taught to never see beyond the outer shell of a person.” Angeline sighed.

  Sam thought about the fact he owned a business worth a staggering sum of money, when yesterday he’d been counting pennies to buy nails. Then his mind returned to what Angeline said about his parents’ love. His father had been devoted to his mother, completely in love until the day she’d died, and then part of him had died as well. He could have returned to Denver then, but he hadn’t. Now, Sam would never know why.

  “People make choices, decisions they can never reverse. It doesn’t mean they’re bad people. It just means they’re human, and they conduct their lives by the decisions they make.” She kissed the back of his hand. “I would give up my life for you, Sam. I know your parents had that same kind of love.”

  Sam’s anger began to dissipate. She was right, of course. He would give up everything for Angeline, no matter what the consequences. The fact was, there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. When his mother had gotten sick, his father had spent every waking moment taking care of her until she’d wasted away to nothing. The pain he’d suffered must have been unbearable. No wonder he hadn’t returned to Denver. He’d built his life in Forestville, and he’d stayed where Sparrow was buried, never straying too far from her grave.

  They sat side by side for a bit longer. Sam felt more in control of himself, calmer and ready to learn more about the Carvers in Denver.

  “Did Bennington leave the papers for me?”

  “Yes, I asked him to. They’re on the table whenever you’re ready to look at them.” She got to her feet and held out her hand.

  “The letters, too?” He accepted her help and stood.

  “Yes, the letters, too.”

  Sam pulled Angeline into an embrace and held her tightly, their hearts beating against each other. He felt a breeze on his neck again and closed his eyes. Sam wasn’t quite ready to forgive his parents for keeping secrets, but he was done being angry with them. It was time to get more information, and then decide what he needed to do.

  He kissed Angeline, a sweet, hot kiss that made his body ache. She sucked in a lungful of air when he finally let her loose.

  “Well, that was nice.” She raised one blond brow. “More later?”

  Sam laughed and turned to walk back home with his wife, his love, tucked under his arm. He’d need her strength to get through the next few days and even beyond. His life had changed last fall when Angeline had arrived in Forestville, and again, when she’d become his wife. Now, it seemed his life was taking another sharp right turn, and he had no doubt it was going to be a rocky path.

  The wind was at their back as they walked home. The spirits were already guiding him to where he needed to be.

  Angeline watched him as he read through the letters. She didn’t ask to see them or even what he found in their yellowed depths. It seemed better to simply be there if he needed her.

  She spent her time making the kitchen into something that functioned as a kitchen rather than a dirty dish storage area. Somehow, the two men had forgotten how to clean up after themselves. The chore of cleaning gave her the opportunity to watch him without actually watching him.

  After he stacked the letters and tied them with the pink ribbon again, he started on the rest of the papers. By then, Angeline had cleaned the pantry closet, which had nothing in it but dust and a can of old peaches, and scrubbed every inch of the kitchen until it nearly begged for mercy.

  He sat back and pinched his nose between his fingers. When he sighed, she hung up the rags on the side of the sink and sat down across from him. Angeline had learned how to be patient, although she wanted to shake him so he’d start talking.

  “Everything he told us appears to be true. I still have trouble believing all of it, but those letters are in my mother’s writing.” He met her gaze. “I have a friend that works in the government in Colorado. I’m going to send him a wire to make sure this is all on the up and up.”

  “That’s a good idea. No matter what papers Bennington has in hand, it doesn’t mean he’s not a shyster.” Angeline agreed with Sam’s methodical review of everything, but she still wanted to find out more. That curiosity of hers was never fully at ease. “How long will it take your friend to find out information?”

  “Not long. A few days probably.” Sam gestured to the letters. “If you want to read them, go ahead. They are daily diaries of what I did growing up, when I lost my front teeth or broke my arm, even when I climbed a tree and got stuck.”

  “She was allowing your grandmot
her to watch you grow up, even if she wasn’t able to see you.” Angeline knew Sam’s mother had been a good woman, and this was a prime example of why. She’d had no connection to Mary Carver, no compelling reason to do what she had. Sparrow had been a busy mother with a boy to raise and a house to take care of. Yet she’d spent her time painting pictures of young Sam’s life for his grandmother to read.

  “Yep, I guess that’s what she was doing.” Sam’s gaze connected with hers, their depths still full of dark emotions. “It would have been better to let me actually see my grandmother.”

  “I don’t think your father or your grandfather would’ve allowed it. This was the best she could have done under the circumstances.” Angeline wanted to reach inside and absorb all his pain. He’d gone through so much with his father’s death. This news, all of the history behind it, was like kicking him when he was down.

  “What do you think I should do?” His question surprised her, but she’d been thinking about the answer since Mr. Bennington had left the house.

  “I think we should find out what is true and what isn’t. If you want to get to know your family, we should visit Denver but not live there.” She took his hand and kissed it this time. “Family is more important than any money. You only have one life to live, so living it with regrets will make it that much less.”

  Angeline tried not to think about Eliza, her older sister, but all the talk of family brought memories of her to the surface. If only she knew where her sister was, she would find a way to see her.

  “I can’t even begin to imagine how much fifteen million dollars is.”

  Angeline shook her head. “Neither can I, but I guess it means I don’t have to darn your socks for winter.”

  Sam chuckled. “Seems like that’s true. Would you want it? The money, I mean?”

  Angeline wasn’t going to lie to him. “All my life I’ve lived without much except the bare necessities, and sometimes even those were a bit thin. I can’t say that the idea of having everything I’ve ever wanted doesn’t sound delightful, but it sounds scary, too.”