ROMANCE: Badass Boss (Billionaire Alpha Bad Boy Romance) (Western Mail Order Bride Calendar Contemporary) (71 page)

“
She's my daughter too. You have to admit that you have been harsh with her. It would be good for her to find a husband and raise a family of her own. She was never meant to stay here for her entire life, she inherited his spirit of adventure. She needs more than what we can give her, but we've done our jobs well. She's a good girl. We have to trust in her to make the right decisions
.”

“
I do trust in her. I just do not trust in the rest of the world
.”

“
You know that if you keep her here she's only going to resent you, and everything good between you will be washed away. I don't want to see that happen. Sometimes if you love something you have to let it go, just like I had to do all those years ago
.”

And then there was silence. Mary-Jane's breath was stifled and it caught in her throat. Her mind whirled with wild thoughts and ideas. She knew there was something about her uncle, but she had no idea how it tied in with her father's over-protectiveness. She remained at the door, hoping that her parents would say something more, but she could only hear the gentle rhythms  of their breathing. When she returned to her own room she crawled into bed, but sleep would not come, for her mind was alive with the possibilities of the following day.

When the morning sun rose and the golden tendrils of its light reached into Mary-Jane's room, she awoke with a mighty yawn and stretched her limbs. The conversation she overhead was still fresh in her mind and she craved answers. She threw on some clothes and made her way to the kitchen, where her mother was preparing her some breakfast, but to her disappointment her father was nowhere to be seen.

“Good morning dear,” Annabelle said.

“Morning. I'm...I'm sorry about last night.”

“It's fine,” Annabelle said, and slid a sizzling egg onto a plate, handing it to Mary-Jane, who took it and then sat at the table. “An argument between you two is nothing new,” she continued in a lighter tone, throwing Mary-Jane a playful glance.

“I just get so frustrated sometimes. Everyone I went to school with has moved on with their lives but I'm still stuck here. I just wish father would let me experience life for once. I feel as though there is so much I'm missing out on.”

“I know it's difficult to understand, but he only has your best interests at heart. He... he worries about you, you know. You are the love of his life after all, he loves you even more than me.”

“I don't believe that for a second.”

“If you saw the look in his eyes when he first held you, you would understand. It was a look of complete and utter devotion. Do not be too hard on him. I know sometimes he is not easy, but then again no man is.”

“I was hoping to speak with him before he left.”

“I'm sure he won't mind you popping into the station. I have a few errands for you to run  in town as well.” Mary-Jane idly scooped her egg up onto the fork and ate it, until the plate was empty. She handed it back to her mother and picked up her boots, lacing them around her shins.

“Are you going now?” her mother asked.

“I don't have anything else to do,” she replied, and Annabelle shrugged. The questions inside her burned and almost made her explode. She wanted to ask her mother all about her uncle but she was afraid that if she did then her mother would know that she had been eavesdropping the previous night. It required some tact, which wasn't always Mary-Jane's strong suit, but she put all her effort into thinking of a way to bring up her uncle without revealing her indiscretion, and then, as she was staring at one of his paintings, she thought of the natural way.

“How did uncle Lee paint these?” she asked. Annabelle stiffened.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what made him become a painter? Did it run in the family? I haven't seen you paint anything, and I haven't ever had the urge.”

“No, it didn't run in the family. He was one of a kind. Always was. Never felt like he belonged anywhere, not even with us, even though he had a family.”

“What made him think like that?”

Her mother shrugged and returned to cleaning the dishes. “I don't know, it's just the way he was.”

“I don't remember him that much. I wish I did.”

“You used to be close. He used to be your favorite, and you used to be his. He would take you out riding and he'd tell you all kind of stories. I never knew him to be happier than when he was with you. He even painted you, do you remember that? Other than you, he only ever painted landscapes.”

This was news to Mary-Jane and she looked excitedly at her mother.

“He did?! Where are they?”

“He... he took them with him when he left.”

“Oh,” she said, and the flame of excitement was snuffed out as quickly as it had been sparked. “Has he never tried to write to you in all this time? If he loved me so much then why hasn't he tried to come back?”

“I... I don't know. Your uncle was a strange man in some ways. He was a lost soul. All you need to know is that when he left it was the right decision for everyone. I miss him a lot and I'm sure that wherever he is he will misses you too.” There was a sad tone in her mother's voice, and Mary-Jane felt guilty for bringing up the painful memories. But there was still so much to be learned, and if she wasn't going to get it from her mother then she would have to go to her father... unless there was another source.

The town was busy as usual, and just as they did every time she went into town, people greeted her warmly. Her mother had written her a small shopping list and given her a handful of money to pick up some supplies for the pantry, and she decided to get those out of the way before she saw her father, as talking to him required her to summon some courage. While she picked out the items she needed in the shop she was speaking with Old Man Logan, who was the gruff owner. Despite his outwardly rude manner he had always been sweet and friendly to her, and often sneaked some free items into her bag. He had been in the town for as long as she could remember, and had a good memory despite his old age.

“Logan, can you tell me something about the past?” she began, hoping to glean some more information before she went to her father.

“Anything in particular, or shall I just give you a random story?”

“About my uncle...” she said. Old Man Logan looked at her through narrowed eyes. He gulped and his jaw clenched.

“I'm sure your parents are better placed to tell you about him,” he said, and then turned away to stack some things on the shelves. He coughed and walked through the store. Mary-Jane remained undeterred, and followed him.

“I'd just like to know anything you could tell me. I don't remember him much, you see and my mother, well, talking about him always takes her to the verge of tears.”

“Why do you want to know more about him, anyway? What's past is past and should be left there.”

“I don't know, I guess I just wonder about him sometimes. Ma said that he loved me and it just seems a shame that he would leave us when he had family here.”

“He had a different definition of family to you or I.”

“So you do know about him?”

“I see things. I hear things. But it's not my place to say.”

“Ma says that he just left because he got bored here. There's more to it than that, isn't there?”

“I can't say Mary-Jane. I think it's best if you just leave it. Your parents know more than me. What they've told you is the truth.”

“But is it the whole truth?”

Old Man Logan had never been able to lie to her. Even when he had taught her poker when she was little she had always known when he was bluffing, and this time was no different.  There was a tilt of the head and a glimmer in the eyes that told her he had a secret that he was unwilling to share. But at least she knew there was a mystery to her uncle's leaving, and it made her all the more determined to figure out what was going on, ignoring Old Man Logan's advice to leave the past in the past.

Carrying the bags of groceries, Mary-Jane waddled across town to the jail. The clopping of horses' hooves could be heard in the background, and James the barber's hearty laugh swept out of his shop and into the middle of the street, but the jail was quiet. When she entered her father was sitting at his desk, filling out some paperwork. There was a man in the cell, Tom the drunk, who was often caught acting disorderly after one too many drinks, and was taken to the cell to sleep it off. He looked the worse for wear and Mary-Jane thought it to be pitiful. She placed the groceries on the desk, and her father looked up at her, surprise etched over his face.

“I wanted to come and talk to you,” she said, preempting his question of what she was doing there.

“Have a seat,” he said, and gestured to the empty chair.  He placed his pencil down and leaned back, leaving one arm draped across the desk. Mary-Jane knew that in order to get the information she needed she would have to make most of the effort in the conversation, so as hard as it was she had to admit that she had been wrong.

“I'm sorry about yesterday. I shouldn't have shouted at you like that. I know you're only trying to do the best for me and I should know my place,” she said meekly, bowing her head. Wayne remained silent for a few moments before he spoke.

“I accept your apology and I admit that sometimes I can be rather headstrong as well, which makes for a good sheriff but isn't always the best way to be a father. I know that you are looking for something more from life and I promise you that you will find it, just that you may need to be a little more patient than you would like.”

“I understand that. I told mother about it this morning, and I'd just like you to know that  the reason why it matters so much to me is because I see everyone that I grew up with moving on with their lives, and I feel as though I am being left behind. I suppose I simply do not understand why you are so worried about me going into the world when nothing bad has ever happened to me.”

“I cannot offer you a rational explanation for that, only that I am your father and it is my job to worry about you.”

“Is it... does it have something to do with why uncle Lee left?”

“Why do you say that?” Wayne said. His poker face had always been better than Old Man Logan's.

“Ma mentioned something this morning when I was talking to her about it,” she said, hoping that lie would go unnoticed.

“What did she say?”

“Just that there was something more to him leaving. But she wouldn't tell me what, and I just put two and two together. Is he alright? What did he do?”

“He didn't do anything. I don't know why your mother said that. You must have misunderstood her,” he said tersely, clenching his jaw, and Mary-Jane knew that this was going to be more difficult than she had imagined. But at that point Tom sniffed and coughed. He had been awake this whole time.

“He took...” he said, and then his words slurred into something incomprehensible as his head lolled into his chest. Mary-Jane noticed the look of sheer fear on her father's face, and knew that it hadn't been the ramblings of a drunken mind.

“What did he say?”

“Nothing. He's drunk. Don't pay attention to him.”

At that point Tom went to say something again and Wayne rose quickly, making a loud noise to drown out whatever it was the drunk man was going to say. Wayne's long strides reached the cell in a few steps and he loomed over the pitiful drunk man, making his gun prominent.

“I suggest you go back to sleep otherwise you'll be spending the whole week in here,” he said in a threatening tone. Tom promptly followed orders, but not before his bloodshot eyes met Mary-Jane's. Wayne returned to his seat. “Now, I think you should go back home with these groceries. I'll talk more with you tonight,” he said, then went to go back to work. But Mary-Jane wasn't having it.

“No. I want answers, now. You have been acting strangely about uncle Lee all my life and I want to know why. He's been gone for years, so long that I don't even remember him but you're still using him as an excuse to not let me leave and I want to know why. I deserve to know.”