“Please sit down, Mr. Mitchum.” Amelia sat on a log near Clint with the girls at her side. She glanced at him, waiting for him to speak first. Ingrid Mitchum had told her that her son was a handsome man, but Amelia hadn’t expected him to be such a large, imposing man. And she certainly hadn’t expected him to be quite so handsome. Dark hair, dark eyes, a strong chiseled jaw, wide shoulders and a trim waist—no, he was not lacking in masculine appeal. The pistol he wore low on his hip didn’t escape her notice. Most of the ranchers of her acquaintance carried rifles.
Clint cleared his throat, buying time to find the words without becoming emotional. “My mother asked me to find you. She wanted to make sure you were doing well.” He wanted her to know how much he appreciated how she cared for his mother. “I also wanted to meet you to thank you for staying with my mother.”
“Oh my! You rode all this way just to see if I was well?” Amelia could hardly believe he’d come so far to check on her. “How is your mother?”
Clint stared at her, trying to make sense of her question. “You weren’t there when . . .” He couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence.
Amelia looked at him quizzically. “Did something happen to Doc Sims?”
“Doc Sims?” Clint repeated.
“Yes, he was very ill when we left. I wanted to stay to help nurse him, but Mr. Nelson wanted to leave.”
Clint shook his head. “I don’t know how the doctor is doing.”
Amelia gave him a questioning look. “Your mother didn’t have a relapse, did she? Does she need me?”
“I don’t understand,” Clint responded. “Did you not stay with my mother to the . . . to the end?”
“The end?” When she realized what Clint was saying, her lips started to quiver. “You’re not saying that Ingrid . . . that Ingrid. . .” a tear slid slowly over her cheek “. . . died?”
Chapter 3
“I thought you knew . . . since her grave was . . .” Clint swallowed hard. Seeing Amelia’s tears freely flowing was nearly his undoing. He stood and walked to her. His first thought was to comfort her, but he hesitated because they were complete strangers. He started to place his hand on her shoulder, but to his surprise, she jumped up and threw herself into his arms. A heartbeat later, the girls were clinging to him, all three crying as if their hearts were breaking. Clint put one arm around Amelia and one arm around the girls. “It will be okay.” His own emotions were so raw that he could hardly speak. He clenched his jaw, trying to maintain his composure and stay strong for the grief-stricken females in his arms.
Minutes later, Amelia pulled away and swiped at her tears with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry, Mr. Mitchum; we should be the ones comforting you.”
Clint pulled his bandanna from his pocket and handed it to her.
Katie dried her tears on her sleeve. “We loved Miss Ingrid.”
Annie pulled up her skirt and wiped her face. “She was going to make Lucy pretty again.”
Clint started to ask who Lucy was, but Amelia said, “Mr. Mitchum, we were all very fond of your mother.” She picked up Clint’s forgotten cup, filled it with fresh coffee and held it out to him. “Girls, why don’t we let Mr. Mitchum sit and drink his coffee?”
His arms now empty after the brief moment of sharing his grief, Clint took the cup from Amelia and sat down again. The girls dutifully sat down beside their mother and silently stared at him. Their forlorn expressions broke his heart. It gave him comfort to know they loved his mother. At least she’d had people surrounding her who cared about her during her illness.
“Did anyone tell you what happened? Ingrid was doing well when we left. I never considered she might have a relapse.”
“I didn’t see anyone until I rode to your ranch. I asked the man at your ranch where I could find you.”
After a few moments, Amelia asked, “How did you know your mother wanted you to find me?”
“There was a note in the family Bible.”
“Who told you that your mother . . . had passed? Casey?”
“Casey?” Clint didn’t know who Casey was. “No, I saw her grave.”
Jumping to her feet, Amelia stood before Clint. “But that grave was dug a long time ago. Your mother asked Casey to dig the grave when she contracted the fever. But I told him to fill it in, because I didn’t want her to think she was going to die.” Seeing Clint’s confused expression, she added, “Your mother recovered before I left town. She insisted that I leave with the Nelsons while she stayed behind to care for Doc Sims. She told me because she had survived the fever, she would probably be immune. If you didn’t go to town, how do you know she wasn’t there caring for Doc Sims?”
Clint studied her face, trying to make sense of what she was saying. Was it possible his mother was still alive and in La Grange, nursing the doctor? “Are you saying my mother was completely well when you left La Grange?”
“Yes, but when the doctor became ill, she insisted on staying with him. Doc lost his wife several years ago, so there was no one to help him. He had done so much for everyone else and your mother wouldn’t desert him.”
Clint looked off into the distance. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, only to have them dashed once again, but at that moment he felt a spark of faith. “Then it’s possible she’s alive.”
“A family passed this way two days ago and told us that the fever had stopped spreading, and some families were already returning to La Grange,” Amelia told him.
“Was Mr. Nelson thinking of returning?” Clint asked.
“Not yet. I would
