Claiming The Single Mom's Heart

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Those people lived on the property. Friends of the family.”

That was, if you could call a man who’d betrayed you a friend. Grady had intentionally placed this photo front and center in his office after Jasmine’s underhandedness. A reminder that, as also in the case of Aunt Char’s disloyalty, Hunters had to look out for Hunters first and foremost. Outsiders couldn’t be trusted.

“Do they have names?”

“Walter Royce and his wife, Flora.” Their monikers were emblazoned on his brain. “And yes, she’s Native American. White Mountain Apache.”

Sunshine stepped closer, her gaze more intent. Like his mom, she seemed enthralled with old-time photographs and the stories they held.

“That woven blanket draped over her arm... It’s such an interesting pattern. One I’d like to incorporate in one of my paintings.” She looked to him hopefully. “Would you mind if I took a picture of it?”

He shrugged. “Have at it.”

She eagerly slipped her cell phone from her purse and snapped a few shots. “Inspiration sometimes comes from directions you least expect, doesn’t it?”

“I guess so.” Actually, he knew so. How many times had his eyes been drawn to something because of the texture, the shadow, the sheer beauty of it and his fingers itched to reach for his camera? Like right now. With Sunshine’s dark eyes bright with excitement and natural light from the windows glinting off her glossy black hair and highlighting a soft cheek and the gentle curve of her lips.

“When do you think this photo was taken?”

“Judging from my great-grandfather’s age here, I’m guessing about 1906, 1907, maybe?”

A wistful look flickered in her eyes. “It must be wonderful to trace your family back this far. To know that these pine trees on the property shaded them as they do your family now. That every single day you’re walking where they walked.”

“Yeah, I guess it is remarkable.” Her enthusiasm was almost contagious, and he found himself smiling. “In fact, the original cabin in this picture and the one the Royces lived in are still on the property.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding. I’d love to see them sometime.”

While they weren’t rotting or anything like that—his family had seen to it that they were well maintained—they hadn’t been modernized. “They’re nothing fancy, you understand.”

“I wouldn’t expect them to be. But I’d love to see buildings that hold such history.”

“Well, then, sometime when you don’t have to rush off, I can arrange that.”

From the indecisive flicker in her eyes, for a moment he thought she might claim that getting back to the gallery was of minor importance and insist that now was as good a time as any for a tour. But when she merely uttered a thank-you, he determined the perceived wavering on her part must have been in his imagination.

Wishful thinking?

Unfortunately, that could only get him into trouble. He’d heard grumblings at a family breakfast meeting that morning about Sunshine’s earlier visit to the Hideaway. Uncle Doug warned that she might be snooping around for something to use against Grady’s mother in the upcoming election—although neither he nor Uncle “Mac” McCrae could come up with exactly what that might be. Aunt Suzy—Dad’s sister and Uncle Mac’s wife—reiterated that until more was known about her sister-in-law’s health status, everyone should keep silent about it with those outside the family. As political opponents, Sunshine Carston and Irvin Baydlin didn’t need to be alerted just yet.

Grandma Jo, fortunately, had put in a good word as to his “proactive” endeavors to soothe the ruffled feathers of the Artists’ Co-op members regarding the new Hunter business. But how would he explain escorting Sunshine around the property to see old family cabins?

“Grady?” Sunshine’s curious eyes met his, no doubt wondering where he’d mentally wandered off.

“Let me know when you’re available to take a look at the cabins, and I’ll check my schedule.” Maybe he could put her off for a while. With all there was to do at the Hideaway with the influx of hunters and with details of the new wild game supply store demanding his attention, he’d have an excuse to beg off if he needed one.

She moved to the door, then paused, a thoughtful look on her face. “Your mother wouldn’t happen to be around this afternoon, would she? I wanted to ask her about—”

“No, I’m afraid not. She’s out of town this week.”

“Oh? I’ll get in touch with her later, then.”

As Sunshine disappeared into the hallway, Grady again studied the old photograph of the original Hunter’s Hideaway. Remembered the deceit that had severed a friendship.

Was Sunshine’s request to talk to his mother an innocent one? Or had she somehow gotten wind of her opponent’s possible Achilles’ heel and today’s visit was nothing more than a fishing expedition to learn more?

Chapter Five (#ulink_83a04c8d-47ed-50d5-9b85-185ea7327e5f)

“I think I may have confirmed it, Tori.” Sunshine glanced at her friend Saturday morning. “Not only is ‘the ridge of the hunter’ likely the same as Hunter Ridge, but I may now have proof that my ancestors knew the Hunter family just as in the family legend.”

With satisfaction, she tapped the screen of her laptop computer, where she’d uploaded photos from her phone. They were the first images she’d ever seen of her legendary ancestors if, indeed, these two were her great-great-grandparents. When Grady pointed them out, named names she’d never before heard, it was all she could do not to topple over in amazement as the pieces fit together.

“A pioneer family named Hunter, can you believe it? Who not only lived in the area that one day would neighbor Hunter Ridge, but who were friends of another couple—an Anglo husband with an Apache wife. Identical to the family story related by my grandma.”

Had Grady noticed her excitement?

“You said her name was Flora?” Tori inspected one of the photos. “That doesn’t sound like an Indian name, but she does look like the full-blooded White Mountain Apache of family folklore, doesn’t she? I can see where your jet-black hair, dark eyes and beautiful warm complexion could have been inherited from her. Do you see any other family resemblance to either of them?”

“Flora’s build and facial structure is similar to my grandmother’s—Flora’s granddaughter—if indeed this is my ancestor. And Walter?” Sunshine frowned. “I’m not sure.”

“This is wild.” Tori stepped back, but her attention remained fixed on the screen. “I have to admit, I didn’t think there was any substance to those tall tales you told me.”

“Well, we don’t know for sure.” But something deep inside Sunshine bubbled up, telling her she was looking into the faces of those who’d come before her. “I never knew their names. But it’s not as if I’ve had some pristine lineage traced back to the Mayflower, you know. The family on Mom’s side has been fragmented. There was never an interest in documenting our ancestry. Grandma’s mother died when Grandma was a teen. That’s who she’d have gotten her information from, and Grandma’s grandma died before that. So even though my great-grandma knew her parents’ names, that wouldn’t necessarily have been passed down to her own daughter.”

“Gets complicated, doesn’t it? I didn’t even know my own great-grandparents’ names until I did research.”

“It’s not as if my grandmother tried to verify any of this, either. I mean, the substance of the story she passed down was focused solely on the unfortunate fact that our ancestors were cheated out of property by someone they considered a friend.”

Tori crossed the room to lower herself onto the sofa. “Even if these two are related to you, that doesn’t mean there’s any truth to the core of that story. You know, that Hunters grabbed their land or anything.”

“No, but...” Stories had to start somewhere, didn’t they?

“So what’s next?”

Sunshine moved to a front window overlooking the road through town, then pushed aside a sheer curtain to watch the activity below. “Well, I guess I need to go online and see if those names can be verified on one of those genealogy websites.”

“You know it isn’t as easy as those TV shows depict, don’t you? I mean, they have professional genealogists who do months of background research. Then when the celebrity shows up with cameras rolling, they tap a few keys and pull up the proof as if they’d just discovered it.”

“I know, but it’s somewhere to start. I’ll begin with what I know about Mom and Grandma and work my way back.”

“People in the olden days didn’t always have birth certificates. And your Apache ancestor likely didn’t.”

“True.” Sunshine rested her forehead on the cool pane of glass, trying to better see what was going on below. Was that Grady Hunter hauling a box out of a navy blue SUV in front of the building next door?

“What are you looking at?”

“Oh, nothing.” Sunshine moved away from the window and sat down. “So has my family mystery intrigued you enough that you’re willing to help me? I know you have reservations about how the story involves the Hunters.”

“That’s the part that I’m most concerned about. But I’ve researched my own family and found it rewarding. So I’d be happy to do that for you while you’re seeing to the gallery, Co-op business and getting out to meet your future constituency.”