Courting the Enemy

Epilogue

Karen gazed into the face of her son and felt an indescribable sense of joy steal over her. With his black hair and dark eyes, Thomas Grady Blackhawk was the most beautiful baby she’d ever seen.

His great-grandfather agreed with her. He’d been hovering over the two of them for days now, eager to take over feedings, even diaper changes. Watching the two of them together had been a revelation. Until then she had been just a tiny bit intimidated by Grady’s grandfather. Now she knew that beneath that quiet, solemn, wise demeanor he was a real softie.

She also knew what she had to do. In fact, she had already talked to a lawyer and today, now that the christening was over and the guests had left, she would tell Grady and Thomas what she had decided.

There was a soft knock on the door of the nursery and both men came in. The baby whimpered as if he knew that his great-grandfather was in the vicinity. Only when she had handed him over to the old man did baby Thomas quiet down. She rose and gave them her place in the rocker, then walked over to the dresser to pick up the papers she had left there.

“What are those?” Grady asked.

She grinned as she handed them to him. “Why not read them and see for yourself?”

Regarding her with a puzzled expression, he took them and began to scan the contents. He’d barely read a page, when his gaze shot to hers. “You want to do this?”

“It’s done.”

“What is it?” Thomas asked.

“She’s donated the ranch to the Bureau of Indian Affairs,” Grady said. “It’s to be a working ranch for Native American boys who need a second chance.”

“The Blackhawk Ranch,” she said quietly.

“But Caleb’s family,” Grady protested. “They’ll hate this.”

“I talked with them. I explained what I wanted to do and why. It was one of the most difficult conversations I’ve ever had in my life, but I told them I was prepared to go ahead with it whether they approved or not.”

She reached for Grady’s hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Do you know what his father said?”

Grady shook his head.

“He said it was the right thing to do, that if he hadn’t been so blinded by his own anger and hurt all these years, he might have thought of it himself, that maybe if he had, Caleb would have been free to pursue a different life, that maybe he’d still be alive.”

“And his mother?” Grady asked. “What did she say?”

“Not much that first time, but she called me the next day and told me it was okay. She said that loving your father might have been wrong, but that he had been a good man and this would be a fitting tribute to him. She also wanted me to ask if you could ever forgive her for blaming you for what happened the night your father died. She said it was a burden you never should have carried.” Her eyes filled with tears. “After all this time, I think she and I have finally made peace.”

“It’s a fine thing you’ve done,” Thomas said quietly. “But I think there’s one change needed.”

“What’s that?” Grady asked.

“I think it should be the Blackhawk-Hanson Ranch. That would make it the real tribute it ought to be.”

Karen had considered that, then dismissed it, fearing that it would negate the meaning of the gesture to Grady’s ancestors. “Are you sure?” she asked, kneeling beside him.

Thomas Blackhawk rested his hand on her head in a gesture that was part blessing, part affection. “I’m very sure, child. No tribute to the past is complete if it ignores part of the history.”

“Then the Blackhawk-Hanson Ranch it is,” Grady said. “Maybe one day our son will grow up to run the place.”

All three of them looked at the boy sleeping so peacefully in his great-grandfather’s arms. He had quite a legacy to live up to, Karen thought, gazing from his father to his great-grandfather.

Then she grinned. The men in her life were really something. And with Kenny Oldham spending so much of his time with them these days in an attempt to make up for his part in the fire, she was surrounded by males. She needed a daughter to even things up a bit. She met Grady’s gaze.

“I think your grandfather has things under control in here,” she began.

Grady grinned. “Absolutely. What did you have in mind?”

“Don’t tell him in front of me,” Thomas said. “I’m an old man. I don’t need to know the details.”

She winked at him. “Don’t worry. I’ll whisper my plans after I get him all alone.”

A smile spread across the old man’s face. “If he doesn’t know without you spelling it out, he’s no grandson of mine.”

“I agree,” Grady said, leading her from the room. “Talk is highly overrated.”

“Then I’ll show you,” she said, closing their bedroom door securely behind her.

She was pretty sure he’d gotten the message even before her blouse hit the floor.