Sunset Ridge (53 page)

Aloysius tapped at the letter. ‘They say she is blonde-haired, striking in appearance,' his eyes grew misty, ‘and aged in her thirties.'

‘The details are compelling, I admit, but I urge you, my friend, not to get your hopes up,' Clarence replied carefully.

‘It's her. It's Philomena.' Aloysius's voice grew tight with emotion.

‘I know how long you have prayed for this moment, Aloysius, but the probability that this woman is indeed your niece remains slight.'

The single sheet of paper trembled between Aloysius's fingers. ‘They have found my dead brother's daughter.' He looked to the ceiling. ‘God be praised.'

‘If it
is
her,' Clarence cautioned, ‘if it is indeed your niece, as your friend I can only advise you to temper your happiness until you learn the true nature of her state.'

Aloysius frowned. ‘What rubbish are you speaking of, Clarence?'

‘It is over twenty years since her abduction.'

‘And I have never stopped thinking of the child. She is my brother's blood.'

‘She has been raised by savages,' Clarence countered. ‘Please, dear friend, I share your joy if indeed the woman is Philomena, but I also urge you to prepare yourself.'

Aloysius folded the letter, returned it to the envelope and tucked it inside his suit coat. ‘I have been preparing for this moment for twenty-three years, Clarence. My niece was born a Wade and no Indian, Geronimo or not, can ever take that away from her.'

No, Clarence thought, they can't take a name but they can take other things.