“And my great-grandmother wouldn’t have had to start her own business. Do you know how hard that must have been?”
Peter unclipped the heavy chain holding the gate and the fence post together. “It would have been incredibly difficult. She couldn’t go to the bank to borrow money and she probably didn’t know anyone who could help finance what she needed. She would have had to build her business slowly and rely on word of mouth for advertising.”
Pushing the gate wide, Katie waved her sister through. “Our great-grandmother was tough, stubborn, opinionated, and loved her daughter above everything else. Having to pretend her husband was dead must have gone against everything she believed in.”
“She had the letter. Selling it would have solved all her problems.”
Barbara drove the truck past them and stopped a few feet away.
“She must have realized how valuable it was.”
Peter thought there was more to it than that. “Or she knew Abraham Lincoln’s son would come looking for your great-grandfather if she sold it.”
Katie stared at the steep, gabled roof of the house in the distance. “After everything they went through, the letter didn’t make any difference to their lives. If Chloe is right, Patrick died in a boating accident not far from here and Maggie died alone in Polson. The person who lost the most was my grandma. She grew up without a father and her mom spent most of her time sewing other people’s clothes to pay for food and rent.”
“Was your grandma happy?”
Katie walked toward the truck. “It was all she knew, so I guess she was. Her happiest moments were with Granddad. When he died, it was like a light dimmed inside of her. She was still Grandma, but different.”
Peter knew how that felt. When his girlfriend died it took a long time for him to get used to her not being here. “Feeling that kind of loss makes you appreciate the people around you.” He held Katie’s hand, wanting her to know how special she was. “Whatever you discover today doesn’t change who you are or how much your great-grandmother loved her husband. You have a loving family and lots of reason to be happy.”
The sadness in Katie’s eyes disappeared. “And one of those reasons is you.”
Before he could reply, Barbara rolled down the passenger window. “Come on you two, we have someone to meet and a cemetery to explore.”
Peter kissed Katie lightly on the lips. “We’d better move. Barbara’s not the most patient person I’ve met.”
“I heard that,” Barbara replied. “And just for the record, you’re right.”
With a last look toward the Gregory family homestead, Peter opened Katie’s door. Regardless of how many wives Patrick Kelly had, or what he’d done with his life, Peter was incredibly grateful that Katie was here. She filled his world with laughter and happiness, and made him look forward to waking up each morning.
When she returned to Los Angeles, he didn’t know what he’d do.
* * *
The old metalsign swinging from a rusty bracket sent a chill along Katie’s spine. ‘Lord remember me’ wasn’t the most inspiring words to see above the gate to the old cemetery, but it was probably fitting.
Steve Gregory, the great-great-grandson of the original settlers, must have seen her wary glance. “The words come from the gospel of Luke in the Bible. It’s where the Good Thief, hanging on a cross beside Jesus, says, “Remember me when you come into your kingdom.” I always thought it was fitting, considering a lot of my ancestors were cattle thieves and robbers.”
Instead of making her feel less worried, Steve’s explanation left her even more anxious. “Do you know why Patrick Kelly was buried here?”
The man who’d met them at the homestead rubbed the whiskers on his chin. “The best explanation I have is that he worked here. Only a few of the graves not belonging to my family have headstones. The others were marked by unnamed rocks.”
Peter frowned. “He must have been highly regarded by your family.”
“Or someone else paid for the headstone.” Barbara turned to Katie. “Would our great-grandmother have paid for it?”
“If she’d known he’d died, she might have. But that doesn’t account for the other headstone.” Her hand tightened around Peter’s. The family cemetery sat less than a thirty-minute walk from the original homestead. In the snow and ice, they’d made the journey on two of Steve’s four-wheelers.
Tall trees surrounded three sides of the final resting place of the Gregory family. The fourth side overlooked pasture flattened by nature and now subdivided into large plots of land. Even from this distance, the houses looked much bigger than the homestead.
Steve walked through the ankle-deep snow to the far side of the fenced-off area. “My cousin wrote a book about the history of our family. I’ll give you her cell phone number before you go. She might know something about your great-grandfather.” He stopped in front of the same headstones Katie had seen in the photo. “This is what you’ve come to see.”
Taking an old rag out of her pocket, Barbara knelt between the headstones. With gentle strokes, she wiped away the snow. When they could see the words, she pulled herself to her feet. “That’s better.”
Katie read the inscription on Patrick Kelly’s headstone. ‘Beloved husband and friend’ only made her more confused. If her great-grandmother had paid for the headstone, wouldn’t she have added her name and their daughter’s?
Steve cleared his throat. “I’ll check some fences while you’re here. When do you think you’ll be finished?”
