Page 91 of The Promise
"Hisgrandfather." Michael paused, the knowledge hitting him even before he could complete his thought. "He said hisgrandfather left him all his possessions. The watch must have been part of it."
"So where did the grandfather get it? Surely he wouldn't have been old enough to know Father?" Patrick turned to look at him.
"No, but Vargas said his great grandfather was a cowboy named Amos."
Patrick's eyes widened. "Amos Striker."
"It fits. Striker worked the Wason ranch before he came here. That makes him a cowboy. And now that I think about it, there's a likeness between Vargas and Striker. That's why Vargas seemed so familiar."
The two of them stood silently for a moment, each lost in his own thoughts, silhouetted in the deepening gloom. Patrick was the first to break the silence. "There's no way to prove he has father's watch."
"Weknow. That's all that really matters. The thing to figure out is why he killed him."
"So we're back where we started." Patrick sighed.
"The locket." Michael hit his head with the heel of his hand. "Hell, I forgot about the locket. Father left a message. In Cara's locket. Vargas took it before I could get a good look at it. And then we lost it in the cave-in."
"But Loralee's locket," Patrick smiled triumphantly, "is the same as Cara's."
"Exactly." He grabbed his brother's arm impatiently. "What do you say we find out what's inside that locket?"
"Michael says you're an artist."Loralee shot a look at Cara from under her lashes as she measured coffee into the coffee pot.
"A painter," Cara said, nodding shyly.
"I ain't never met an artist before. But I saw an exhibit once when I was in St. Louis. They were French paintings. The prettiest things I ever did see. You paint like that?"
"Well, I'm not sure what you saw. But I love to paint. Maybe I can paint you someday."
Loralee felt herself blush. "Don't know why you'd want to go and do that. Ain't nothing worth painting about me."
"Sure there is. You're beautiful, Loralee." Cara was eyeing her through narrowed eyes, her head tilted. "Besides, you're family."
"Your great-grandmother." Loralee tried to say it calmly, but her voice trembled with what? Fear? Elation? Awe? There really weren't words for a situation like this. "I reckon its going to take a little getting used to."
Still, it explained a lot of things. Like why Cara was the spitting image of Mary, and why she felt such a strong bond for the girl.Girl. Heavens, she was already thinking like a granny.Great-granny. And here she was younger than her own grandchild. The thought was sobering.
Loralee thought about her own granny, the only bright spot in an otherwise nightmarish childhood. Granny Shaw had been from Ireland. An imp of a woman with dark hair and laughing eyes. She'd always said there were things in this world a body simply couldn't believe with the eyes alone. 'Listen with yer heart, girl, that's where ye'll be finding the real answers.'
Loralee closed her eyes and concentrated on her feelings, shutting out her doubts and confusion. As quickly as it had come, her confusion vanished like so much smoke in the wind, and she knew, in her heart, that the things Cara was saying were true.
For the first time in long time, Loralee didn't feel alone. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she opened them. Cara was watching her, her sea-green eyes reflecting her own fears. Without a word, Loralee raised her arms and the two womenembraced. This might not be a normal family reunion, but it felt mighty good all the same.
"I can't readthe first letter. Something W, then T3. " Patrick held the scrap of paper up to the candlelight.
The locket lay open on the table, all concentration centered on the note. Cara still couldn't believe she hadn't thought about the note when she first saw Loralee's locket. Too much to process no doubt. And it didn't really matter, Michael had remembered.
Patrick blew out a frustrated breath. "I can't tell for sure. See what you think." He passed the paper to Michael, who also held it up to the light.
Cara leaned forward, staring at the paper, willing it to yield answers. "Maybe it's directions of some kind."
Michael frowned. "Could be. That would mean the missing letter is either an S or an N."
"Right." Patrick reached for the note. "But what in hell is T3?"
"Tunnel number." Michael looked up, exchanging a look with his brother.
"So this is directions to a mining tunnel?" Cara asked, not certain exactly what the information meant.
