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“Baby girl,” Morgan whispered, reaching out to her, “we expected you someday to try to locate the man who made it possible for you to be in our life.” He gave her a quick squeeze on the shoulders and released her. “You’re human, Kam. Every person wants to know who their mother and father are. You’re no different.” He tousled her short hair. “Frankly, we were concerned because you didn’t seem to want to go on that journey. We know you wear your heart on your sleeve. And we know how sensitive you are toward all living things. We felt you just hadn’t built up enough of a desire to go after him yet. I’m glad this moment has come, Kam. For you.”
Blinking through sudden, hot tears, Kam absorbed Morgan’s quick embrace. It was filled with such love and caring. “I—I just don’t want to lose you two.”
“You won’t ever lose us, Kam,” Morgan assured her, his voice growing raspy.
Kam searched his blue-gray eyes and saw tears. “You’ve given me so much. You are so generous, kind and caring….”
“And we’ll always be that way with you, Kam. When you love someone, that never changes. Time only deepens love. And that’s how we feel about you. I’m sure Laura will be glad to hear your plans.”
Just like that, Kam’s heart stopped racing and she felt more at peace. “So, you really think Mom will be okay with this?”
Morgan chuckled and sat back in his chair. “If I know her, she’ll want to help you find your birth father. Listen to me, Kam. All we want is for you to be happy. We know how much it means to have those few items from your mother’s apartment. Parents are bedrock for a child. They tell you where you came from, what kind of person loved you enough to have you. And now, you need to find your birth father.”
“He’s never come to find me…” Kam choked. Tears blurred her vision for a moment. “You don’t know how many nights I lay up there in my bed wondering why he never came to see me. I—I have had so many nightmares about this, Dad. That he didn’t want me…”
The words were terrible to say. To admit. Kam thought them often, but to say them out loud was like having a weight sit on her that she could no longer avoid or dodge. She saw Morgan’s face twist with concern.
“Kammie, don’t go there. At least, not yet. What if he didn’t know about you?”
“I’ve run through that scenario,” Kam admitted. “But if that was so, why didn’t my mother contact him? Tell him she was pregnant with me? Why didn’t he return to her life and take the responsibility?”
Shrugging, Morgan said gently, “We won’t know those answers until you find him and confront him.”
She pressed a hand to her chest. “I just get so envious of people who know who their birth moms and dads are. I ache inside because I don’t. I just feel this huge hole in my heart and there’s nothing that can really fill it except to know who my father is.”
“I know,” Morgan whispered, a catch in his tone. Reaching out, he squeezed Kam’s hand. “One step at a time, baby girl. When we have dinner tonight, let your mom know what you want to do. I’ll bet she can help.”
Nodding, Kam clung to his hand. Morgan Trayhern was a giant in the military and spy business. His reputation was one of respect, integrity and admiration. This man, who was so powerful, was also her dad, the man who had raised her with nothing but love. Kam knew how lucky she was, and, as she sat there clinging to his grip, she understood that her biological father would never meet his stature of this man.
LAURA AND MORGAN sat with Kam after the dinner table had been cleared. Having just finished dessert—Napoleons that Laura had made from scratch—they regarded the photo. Fragrant coffee steamed nearby in white ceramic mugs.
“I’ve looked at this photo before,” Laura told her daughter, as she took a sip of her coffee. “You know what drew me?”
“What?” Kam asked, excited that her adoptive parents were proactive on her decision.
“See that bolo tie that cowboy is wearing?”
Kam looked closely. There was a handsome sterling-silver bolo tie, oval in shape, with an elk head on it. The antlers spread from the middle to the top of the bolo. “Yes.”
“I’ve often wondered about that bolo tie. Whether it was a hint,” Laura said.
“Plus,” Morgan added, “a long time ago I had my assistant research the veterinary convention and we got the names of two out of the three men in that photograph with your mother. The one we don’t have is the cowboy on the end. Maybe he wasn’t really attending the convention but was there because of your mother. Or maybe their records are incomplete and he was a convention guest.”
“I know,” Kam said, frowning. “The dairy and beef convention was held annually in Los Angeles. Mom was a veterinary researcher and she was one of the speakers.” She pointed to the two men in the photo. “We know the guy in the business suit was a sales rep for a testing lab and the other one was a scientist who worked with Mom.” Her gaze drifted back to the unidentified cowboy. “My gut just tells me he’s the one. I can’t prove it, but I know it.”
Laura patted her hand. “Women have that strong intuition. We know without knowing why we know what we know.” She grinned over at Kam.
Laura’s touch made Kam feel steadier and stronger. “So, all we have to go on is a bolo tie. I’ve wracked my brain on this for years trying to figure out what the bolo tie might mean, Mom. There’s no writing on the bolo tie to say it was this ranch or that. No leads.”
“Maybe we need to look on Google,” Laura said. She had been a military researcher and writer in the Pentagon for years before she’d met and married Morgan, and she hadn’t lost her knack for research. “I know you’ve been looking for the image on the Net without success.”
“I’ve tried many times before but nothing comes up,” Kam said. “Images are always being added and I keep hoping you’ll find something on it.”
“Because you’re not a researcher,” Laura said, smiling. “So now, let me show you some of the tools I use now that you’re ready to find him.”
Kam rose, excited. She knew her mother was an ace researcher. Not only that but she’d waited for Kam to be ready in her search. “Dad? You want to come?”
Morgan shook his head. “No, you two go ahead. There’s not much room in that makeshift office you moved into your bedroom,” and he smiled.
Understanding, Kam got to her feet. Laura picked up her coffee and they went up the stairs to her room.
Typing in the two words as she and Laura sat close to one another before the laptop, Kam saw a slew of listings from an archival Web site that Laura used. She quickly strolled through the possibilities and then went to the next set of ten. For the next hour, Laura went through decades of images on the site.
Finally, when Kam was losing hope, Laura gave her a smile.
“Look at this,” Laura said, pointing a finger at one entry. “Elkhorn Ranch, Jackson Hole, Wyoming.” She clicked on the link and immediately a Web page for a dude ranch came up.
Kam gasped. “There’s the elk symbol from his bolo tie!” The exact symbol from her photograph was emblazoned in the upper left-hand corner. Her heart started galloping once more.
“Hmmm,” Laura murmured, running her finger over the pad to get the pointer to the left in a column. She clicked on About Us.
Kam saw a multigenerational family portrait. Her breath hitched. In the back, the tallest figure standing in the middle of the family was the man in her photo, only older. Graying at his temples, he still wore a handlebar mustache and a black Stetson cowboy hat. His long arms were wrapped around his wife and an older woman. Two teenage children sat in front of them. An ache built in her chest. “His name is Rudd Mason,” she read out loud in a hushed tone.
“And he owns this dude ranch,” Laura rapidly read below the family portrait. “Wife is Allison Dubois-Mason, children Regan and Zach. The other woman is Rudd’s mother, Iris Mason.”
“It says he owns a fifty-thousand-acre family ranch surrounded by the Grand Teton National Park,” Kam murmured, rapidly devouring the rest of the information. “He runs an organic beef herd and sells nationally to restaurants and food stores who want the clean meat.”
“Iris Mason sounds like a real interesting woman,” Laura noted, tapping her finger to the paragraph below. “She’s a herbalist and sells her flower essences worldwide.” Laura glanced over at Kam. “Remember how much you love gardening? You even loved weeding.”
Kam nodded. Her favorite thing growing up had been helping Laura plant, weed and grow the vegetables in their huge garden out back. “If Rudd is my father then Iris could be my grandmother. That’s probably where I got the gardening gene.”
“Anything’s possible,” Laura said. “There are so many questions yet to be answered. Rudd’s obviously got a family. What if he had an affair with your mother and his wife never knew about it? Or you?”
Mouth quirking, Kam whispered, “I was already thinking that myself.”
Patting her hand, Laura said, “One step at a time. Look, there’s a help-wanted page.” She clicked on it.
Kam’s eyes widened. “Wow, look at this, Mom.” She put her finger on the screen. “Caregiver wanted with medical background to attend elderly person at the ranch. Must be an EMT or paramedic or registered nurse.”
“Good thing you’re a certified EMT,” Laura said, giving her a quick smile. “Maybe you could be hired and just go in and check them out?”
“I have cold sweats at the thought of walking up to Rudd Mason and saying I’m possibly his daughter and can I get a DNA test to prove it,” Kam admitted.
“I know. I’ve often wondered how you would handle that,” Laura confided. “It’s got to be scary for you.”
“It is. It’s my biggest fear. What if I walk up to this man and say, ‘Hey, I’m your daughter. Did you want me in your life? Do you even know I existed? Will you let me into your life? Do you love me? Did you ever love me?’” Shaking her head, Kam felt tears coming to her eyes. Looking down at her clasped hands in her lap, she said in a wobbly voice, “Oh, Mom, I’m just so scared.”
Placing her arm about her, Laura whispered, “I know you are. Maybe if you tried to get a job there, it would help answer some of your questions on your own. It would give the Mason family time to get to know you, too, before you sprang the big news.”
Nodding, Kam admitted, “It’s a coward’s way out, I know, but I just don’t have the courage to go up to him at this point. For all I know, he’s not my father. Just a cowboy who was at the conference who met my mother and by chance, got into this photo just because he was at their booth at the time it was shot.”
“It could be that simple,” Laura acknowledged. “If you could gain his trust, it might make it easier for you eventually to approach him.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” Kam wiped her eyes. “I just wish I had the gumption it took just to call him up or write him an e-mail.”
Laura shrugged. “You could. But what if he knows you’re out there and doesn’t want this blown up because of his family? Maybe there are family dynamics in play we don’t know about. And maybe going in as a hired person at the ranch would give him an opportunity to get to know you over time. And if he is your father, then a lot of the way is smoothed because he will know you. It will lessen the shock of finding out you’re the lost daughter coming back to the family. At least he’ll know you to be a decent, kind and intelligent person.”
Kam closed her eyes and hung her head. “What would I do without you two? It has taken me so long to work up to this, and now you’re helping me once again.”
“Kammie, all we want is for you to be happy. We feel like your life has been on hold because you haven’t wanted to investigate your origins. We’ve seen you walk away from several developing relationships. We felt that because this basic, fundamental question had not been answered yet, you couldn’t commit to one.”
“You’re right about that.” Kam looked up and then over at Laura. “I don’t want to fall in love with a man and have a child who doesn’t know about my life and background. I don’t ever want my child to go through what I’m going through, Mom.”
“We understand,” Laura said, patting her shoulder. “This is a good step to take. Just remember that Rudd Mason might not be your father, though he’s the most obvious lead right now. And we may not ever know who your real father is….”
“I can’t even go there, Mom. It just hurts too much.” An intense sadness flooded her. “If I can earn Rudd Mason’s trust and situate myself into his family as a caregiver, that’s as good as it gets for now. Maybe after this, I’ll sit down and talk to him privately about who I really am.”
“I hope he doesn’t feel hoodwinked by you coming like a wolf in sheep’s clothing,” Laura said. “That’s the real caveat in your approach, Kam. He may think you sneaked into his family to cause problems.”
“I thought of that, too. There just isn’t an easy way to do this, Mom. No matter how I break the news, it’ll be messy.”
“Well,” Laura said comfortingly, “apply for the position and send the e-mail. See if you can get hired. If you get hired, I’d take that as a sign from the universe that this is the way you should go.”
Kam watched as Laura stood up and pulled the second chair out of the way so she could sit in front of her laptop. “This is scary, Mom.”
“Life is scary, honey,” Laura said, patting Kam’s shoulder. “But life demands we step up to the plate and just do it. No one said it was easy. Now, get going on that e-mail and we’ll go from there.”
With a mixture of fear and excitement, Kam did as instructed. She had to start her new journey somewhere.
CHAPTER TWO
RUDD MASON mentally crossed his fingers. He sat behind his ranch office desk on the north side of the sprawling single-story log dwelling, hoping against hope. Would this be the right caregiver for his mother? He’d gone through five already. His mother, Iris Mason, was a tour de force, and none of them could cope with her. Glancing up at the clock, whose face was surrounded by a series of elk antlers, he noted that Kamaria Trayhern would arrive in an hour for her interview.
Outside, the May sky was moody with clouds that had drifted across the majestic Tetons on the south side of the fifty-thousand-acre ranch. The typical May weather brought a mix of fronts, delivering below-freezing temps, only to rebound to the sixties during the day. Snow had finally melted around the dude-ranch portion, and his wranglers were busy with last-minute finishes, painting and repair on the ten cabins that would house their clientele.
Rudd nervously moved his work-worn fingers across his red handlebar mustache, now sprinkled with gray. At forty-eight years old, he didn’t think much about the gray at his temples, either. His red hair was cut short and mostly hidden beneath his beat-up black Stetson. His wife, Allison, continually chided him about wearing the hat inside the house, telling him he should remove it since it was the gentlemanly thing to do. Well, he was a cowboy, from the bloodlines of trappers who had discovered this area and eventually settled it long before the pioneers had arrived. His blood was connected to the pulse of the earth where he’d been born. It felt good to be so deeply rooted when most people never knew much about their family history. Such ignorance was unforgivable in Rudd’s mind.
Watching out the window of his corner office, Rudd felt a frisson of tension. Few applicants had responded to his ad to take care for his ailing mother. Jackson Hole, Wyoming, wasn’t exactly Grand Central Station. In fact, just the opposite—it was out in the middle of some of the most beautiful landscape and mountains the U.S.A. had to offer. But not much city, that was for sure. Would this woman, Kamaria Trayhern, be a city slicker in disguise? Unable, like the others, to adjust to ranch life and his mother’s pace? Her rеsumе was interesting and, as an EMT, she’d be perfect for his mother’s needs. What was Kamaria really like? Only a face-to-face meeting would tell the tale. Fretting, Rudd tugged at his long handlebar mustache and waited the long hour.
KAM UNCONSCIOUSLY rubbed her tightened stomach as she drove slowly through the sleepy Western town of Jackson Hole, Wyoming. The sky was cloudy and threatened rain. Maybe snow? Here and there on her way up to the small town that was the gateway to the Grand Teton and Yellowstone national parks, Kam had seen patches of snow across the rolling green hills. She crawled along at twenty-five miles an hour in the early-afternoon Monday traffic. The town seemed clean, neat and very Western. She had stayed at the Wyoming Inn of Jackson Hole on the main drag and been treated like royalty. Not only had the staff provided her with a delicious breakfast but they had gone out of their way to help her with directions to the Elkhorn Ranch.
She’d found many quaint establishments off the four-lane highway. One that caught her attention was Jedidiah’s Restaurant, which, she’d been told, served the best sourdough pancakes. Kam loved sourdough and made a note to herself to go back real soon.
As she climbed the hill out of town, Kam was not prepared for what she saw at the top. On the left the dragon-teeth Grand Tetons emerged. Wreathed in winter snow, their cragginess evident, the mountain chain resembled the sharp scales on the back of a sleeping dragon. The mountains soared upward out of the flat plain, which made them even more dramatic and spectacular. The beauty of the early afternoon was enhanced by a line of thick, fluffy white clouds scudding across the sharp peaks like soldiers on a march.
To her right was a long rolling valley. The Hole in Jackson Hole was an early trapper word that meant valley. Kam spotted many herds of elk who were leaving their wintering ground for the higher reaches of the hills and mountains that surrounded the valley.
The friendly staff at the Wyoming Inn had told her that as many as ten thousand elk wintered in this long, wide valley just outside of town. Now that spring had come and the snow melt at the higher elevations was in full swing, the herds were leaving their valley digs. They would go to their homes high above that were covered with thick stands of willows, deciduous trees and pines.
The four-lane highway narrowed into two lanes. The beauty of the Grand Tetons kept calling to her. Kam wanted so badly to stop and park off to the side and photograph the majesty of these incredible mountains. But not today. She had an appointment to keep for an interview. She wondered idly who would conduct her interview. An office manager? From what Kam could find out from the staff at the Wyoming Inn, this was the largest ranch in the state. Plus, her research had told her that the Elkhorn Ranch was one of the most popular dude-ranch destinations, as well.
Moose Junction came up. It was one of the entrances to Grand Teton National Park. Kam sped on by the turn. The junction looked enticing and Kam longed to make that right turn and put on her backpack and hiking boots and take off with her camera in hand. The beauty of the area was overwhelming and deserved to be captured in photos. According to all the warning signs along the highway, moose were prevalent in the area. Kam had never seen one. Wyoming wildlife was all around her and she smiled a little. This was the first time she’d been to this state and she was beginning to realize how much she’d missed by not visiting it sooner.
In the back of her mind she never stopped wondering if Rudd Mason was her father. All she had was a photo, a memento of her mother’s life before the quake. Mason might have been at the right place at the right time. For all she knew, this trip might be a big waste of time. Did other orphans or adopted children go through this pattern of fear and questioning? They must.
Frowning, Kam pushed strands of her wavy hair off her brow. Lucky for her the weather in Wyoming was very similar to that back home in Montana. She wore a conservative dark brown wool pantsuit with a tasteful white blouse beneath the jacket. Her mother had given her a strand of pink pearls when she was twelve years old. Kam had loved pearls ever since she could remember. They were her favorite gem. Touching them briefly, Kam felt Laura’s steadying presence. On her thirteenth birthday, her adopted parents had given her a pair of pink pearl earrings to go with the necklace. She wore them today, maybe for luck in her interview, or maybe it was a way to have Morgan and Laura close to her on one of the most important days of her life.
Up ahead, Kam noted a huge sign indicating that Elkhorn Ranch was a mile away. The bolo-tie symbol stood out in the carved-pine rectangular sign. Fear shot through Kam and she gulped unsteadily. Her hands tightened on the wheel. All her sense of inner peace fled. The sign might as well have read: This is your life. Are you ready for it? That’s how she felt deep inside. What if Rudd Mason really was her father? What if he recognized her? The questions pummeled at Kam until she felt like a badly beaten-up boxer in the last round of a fifteen-round match.
The asphalt road stopped where the turnoff for the Elkhorn Ranch began. Two pine poles sat on either side of the road with a sign running across the middle: Elkhorn Ranch. There were elk antlers on either side of the sign, anchored into place with unseen wires or bolts. The road was rutted and still muddy from recent rains. She had rented a Toyota Prius and now wondered about the wisdom of the choice. The car had a very low clearance and some of the ruts looked a lot deeper than it could handle. Well, too late. Somehow she had to crawl down the long, wide dirt road.
Weaving around so that she wouldn’t bottom out, Kam tried to take in some of the scenery. The sides of the road were fenced. The wire on the left was a good ten feet high, and considerably thicker than that on the right. In a bit, Kam saw why as a herd of shaggy buffalo, numbering close to one hundred, foraged on the green grass. Here and there, newly born buffalo calves raced around like roadsters. Again, she wanted to stop and take photos, but she didn’t dare give in to that need.
On the right, as she approached the horizon line, Kam noted hundreds of white-faced Herefords. Buffalo on the left. Cows on the right. Kam recalled that Buffalo carried some disease that could infect cattle, but it seemed that the owners of the ranch kept them well separated. She wondered why there was such a large herd of buffalo. Coming over the slight hill, Kam gasped and stepped on the brake.
Below her on a gently rolling road stood a sprawling ranch. Men rode on horseback, some of them herding groups of cows to other pens, others walking with brooms and buckets toward a row of small cabins below the main area. There was a single-story ranch house made of pine logs and plaster. The structure must easily have been ten thousand square feet. The ranch house seemed to have been built in sections over time. The sheen of the timber contained color changes, which indicated a gradual build. As Kam eased her foot off the brake and allowed the Prius to amble down the slight incline, she wondered just how old the structures were.
A bright red two-story barn on her left appeared to be the center of activity. Kam spotted cowboys holding a line of several horses waiting for the farrier to put new iron shoes on the animals. Two dogs, a yellow Labrador and a golden retriever, bounded around the group, tongues hanging out of their mouths as they frolicked. In front of the ranch house sat a huge garden surrounded with six-foot-high cyclone fence with bird netting over the top. The rich, black soil had been tilled and furrowed but she didn’t see anything growing. No one would plant until June for fear of frost in areas such as this. In this valley, she’d read, there were only sixty days a year above freezing. That was tough on any gardening activities. Still, her photographer’s eye absorbed the neatness of the garden that surely fed a huge group of people. It was easily two acres in size.
Cottonwoods stood in a semicircle around the conglomerate ranch, their yellow-green leaves just starting to emerge after the hard Wyoming winter. Behind and to the south of the ranch was a delightful brook that reminded her of a lazily moving snake across the valley. Kam wondered if there were trout in it, something that Wyoming was famous for. Her heart started to pound in earnest as she eased into the parking area. Tires crunched the gravel. A number of hitching posts were scattered around the area.
A sign at the main ranch entrance said Enter Here. Okay, she would. Kam got out and slid the leather purse strap across her shoulder. The May breeze was warming. Sunlight poured down strongly, lifting the coolness from the air. Fingers tightening around the strap, Kam was locking the car when she heard someone riding at a gallop and turned. A wrangler raced by. She took in his dark blue shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, leather gloves on his hands. He wore a red bandanna around his throat and a tan Stetson low across his eyes. The gray horse was long and lanky, probably part thoroughbred. Still, the man’s squinted eyes had briefly met hers, and she had felt a sudden, unexpected leap of her heart. But this wasn’t fear. He was terribly handsome in a raw, natural way. Under any other circumstances, Kam would have given this guy a second look, but not now.
Grimacing, she turned and walked with determination up the steps to the front door of the Elkhorn Ranch. The dark green screen door had been recently painted and didn’t utter a sound when she opened it. Someone had paid attention and oiled it. The inner door was wide open, and she stepped into the immaculate, pine-floored hall. To her left was a sign that said Office.
Taking a deep, final breath to try and steady her fraying nerves, Kam turned into the office. Behind the counter Rudd Mason was sitting at a blond oak desk, frowning as he read some paperwork. Kam stood staring. This man was tall, probably six foot four and about two hundred and thirty pounds. His face was narrow, nose hooked and skin deeply tanned, weathered and lined from living so long in the elements. His hair was red! Kam swallowed her shock. Flaming red hair peppered with some silver throughout the strands. He wore his hair short but what got her attention was that elegant red handlebar mustache. Rudd Mason looked like he’d just stepped out of the 1860s from the OK Corral gunfight. Still so much like the man in the photo.
If she hadn’t been so nervous and afraid, Kam could have appreciated the man’s simple cowboy garments: jeans, a checked red-and-white long-sleeved shirt, a blue bandanna around his throat. When he lifted his head to see her standing there, his turquoise-blue eyes narrowed.
“Afternoon, missy. Might you be Kamaria Trayhern?”
Her skin shivered with excitement. Rudd’s voice was deep and the drawl took away some of her angst. “Yes, sir, I am. Are you Rudd Mason? The owner?”
He gave her a curt nod. “I’m him.” He gestured for her to come around the end of the counter. “Come and sit here next to me. I’m glad you could make it. Any problems with the flight? Nowadays, I never fly. Such a hassle.”
Kam smiled. She liked his straightforward demeanor. He stood waiting for her, the epitome of that old cowboy custom of being a gentleman. His hair was plastered against his skull and his black cowboy hat, stained with sweat around the band, sat on the desk next to his pile of papers.
“Thanks. And my flight from Billings was uneventful, thank goodness.”
“Can I get you anything to drink? Cup of coffee? Tea?”
At least he was pleasant, Kam thought. “No, thank you. I ate lunch in Jackson Hole just an hour ago. I’m fine.” Kam sat down and kept her purse in her lap, hands across it. She watched him settle back down in the wooden chair, which creaked under his full weight. Rudd picked up a yellowed mug and lifted it in her direction. “Well, I’ll take a cup of joe anytime someone offers it to me.” He took a long sip and set it down in front of him. Rummaging around, he found her rеsumе and put it on top of the stack of papers.
“I liked your qualifications. You’ve got EMT certification, but I see you aren’t with the fire department. Usually, most EMTs are.”
Kam squirmed beneath those assessing blue eyes. “I’m a photographer, Mr. Mason. I do a lot of work overseas in areas where there aren’t many hospitals. I decided to get certified as an EMT a long time ago in case it was me who got hurt in the middle of nowhere.”
“I see….” He smiled slightly. “You’re a gal with some brains in your head. Ever used your EMT skills?”
