Page 38 of The Texan Duke
According to the story he’d learned on coming home, the two men had spent the night in one of the line shacks along the northern property. The night had been a cold one, the small building erected for times like that. Why they’d been riding the line, he didn’t know.
Graham had been sitting at the table, cleaning his pistol, an action that wouldn’t have been necessary unless he’d shot it during the day. Sam had gone outside to use the necessary, heard the gunshot, and returned to find Graham dead.
The facts hadn’t added up.
“Why didn’t you say something before now?” Sam said.
“I don’t know. Maybe I wanted to believe that it was an accident. Maybe I didn’t want to accept the truth.”
“I don’t know what happened for sure,” Sam said, leaving the desk to go and stand in front of the window. “What I told you was the truth.” A moment later, he added, “I had my suspicions, but that’s all they were. I didn’t think it would help your mother or your sisters any to tell them what I thought.”
Connor let the silence stretch between them.
“Why?” he finally asked. “There must have been a reason.”
“All I know is that one day he visited his doctor in Austin,” Sam said. “He got some bad news.” Sam turned his head, his gaze meeting Connor’s. “If I took a guess I’d say he chose his own death. He didn’t want to be a burden to your mother.”
“That wasn’t his choice.”
“Hell it wasn’t. He made his own way through life, Connor, and so do you. The two of you create your own path. God help anyone who stands between you and what you want.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Sam turned back to the window. “Your father was also difficult to get to know. He didn’t let many people get close to him.”
That wasn’t, as Connor saw it, a bad trait to have.
“You don’t think he would have wanted me to come to Scotland, do you?” he asked.
“Hell, yes, he would have wanted you to come,” Sam said, coming back to the desk. “I think he would have wanted to know what you thought of the place.”
Connor smiled. “I think he’d have been more interested in what you thought of my aunt.”
Sam’s answer was a grin.
“Does my mother know?”
Sam turned his head slowly and looked at him. He got the impression that the older man was stalling for time again.
“About what?” Sam finally asked.
“About the reason he left Scotland. And don’t tell me you weren’t interested in his past. That tale might satisfy some people, but I know you, Sam.”
The man could be damned nosy. Sam had been adopted by the American McCraights and acted the part of doting uncle. He’d interrogated Connor’s younger sisters about the suitors who’d arrived to call on them, gave marital advice to the older girls and, when he was at the ranch, inserted himself into any problems arising between the men.
Sam didn’t say anything for a minute. He perched himself on the corner of the desk again and stared out at the view.
“She does,” he said. “But it never mattered to her. Any more than her first love mattered to your father.”
That was a surprise.
Sam glanced at him and smiled. “Most people think that everyone’s life begins when they’re born. They never look back or around them. Your mother had a sweetheart before she met your father, but the man died of influenza before they could be married. When Linda met Graham, it was like the two of them found each other. They were friends who fell in love, Connor. If they thought of the past it was with kindness, not longing.”
Connor nodded, grateful that he only had to keep one secret from his mother. Or perhaps she already knew the truth about his father’s death. He wouldn’t be surprised. Linda McCraight was one of the smartest women he knew.
“Better get a move on,” Sam said, standing and moving toward the door. “You’ll be late for dinner.”
He left the library, no doubt in a hurry to see the duchess again.
