ma’am. I was adopted when I was two. All three of us were.”
“All three of you?” Her gaze bounced from one man to the other. “You mean…you’re triplets?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh, my stars.”
“Actually, we came here looking for our birth mother. We have information that she might be from around here,” J.T. said. “Maybe you could help us.”
“Well, boys, there’s not a doubt in my mind that your mother is Colleen Rafferty. She had a very distinctive face.” She smiled at Zach. “You, young man, are the spitting image of her. And I oughta know. Colleen and I were best friends. By the way, my name is Jan Prescott.”
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Prescott. I’m Zach Mahoney, and these are my brothers, Matt Dolan and J.T. Conway.”
“Three different names. Oh, that’s just so sad.”
“So her name was Rafferty,” Matt said. “Can we assume that has something to do with the Rocking R Ranch? And that she’s connected to the owners?”
“I should say so. That ranch has been in Colleen’s family for four generations. Her great-great-grandfather, Ransom Patrick Rafferty, was one of the first settlers around these parts. For the last fifty years or so the ranch has belonged to her daddy, Seamus Rafferty.” Jan Prescott sniffed. “A meaner old coot you’ll never meet, I’m sorry to tell you.”
“Does Colleen still live at the ranch?”
“Oh, dear, I’m afraid not. Colleen lit out of here close to thirty-six years ago, as I recall. Just boarded a bus one day without a word to anyone, not even me. No one around these parts has seen hide nor hair of her since.
“The rumor going around at the time was that she was pregnant. Back in those days that was a disgrace. I didn’t believe it. Gave a few folks a good dressing-down for even suggesting it. But, seeing as how you boys are here, looks like it was true.”
“Could you give us directions to the Rocking R?” Matt asked.
“Sure. Just follow the highway north about ten miles and you’ll see the sign.”
She hesitated, gnawing at her bottom lip, looking from one to the other. “Look, fellas, I feel it’s only fair to warn you, Seamus Rafferty is meaner than a snake. He’s not gonna take kindly to you showing up on his doorstep. Fact is, you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t run you off at gun-point.”
“We still have to give it a shot,” J.T. said.
“We’re not here to cause trouble,” Matt added. “All we want is some information.”
“Yeah, well, good luck getting it. Regardless of how it turns out, though, I want you to know that I’m just pleased as punch that I got to meet Colleen’s boys. An’ I sure hope you get the answers you want,” she added, but her expression said she didn’t think much of their chances.
After turning in at the ranch entrance they drove several more miles without seeing anything but rich, rolling grassland on either side of the SUV.
The land rose and dipped in undulating waves, stretching out as far as the eye could see to the east, north and south and to the base of the mountains to the west. Patches of snow still dotted the winter-brown pastures, but in protected spots green shoots poked up to brave the chill. Here and there stands of pine and spruce broke up the rolling landscape. Placid cattle grazed on either side of the narrow dirt road.
Now this was prime ranch land, Zach thought. Exactly the kind of spread he’d always dreamed of owning.
His mouth twisted. Yeah, right. In your dreams, Mahoney. If he saved his money until he was ninety, he’d never have enough to purchase a place even a fraction the size of this one.
The road went down a long incline into a wide, gently rolling valley. At its center sat the ranch house, a sturdy, sprawling, two story structure made of logs and stone. The logs were stained dark brown, the shutters and trim painted cream. A wide porch spanned the considerable width of the house, front and back. It had the look of permanence, as though it had been sitting there for a hundred years or more.
A couple hundred yards or so behind the house, cowboys worked in and around a maze of corrals and the gargantuan barn. Beyond that a bunkhouse, several open-sided hay barns and other outbuildings, which Zach knew probably housed tractors and cattle trailers and other ranch equipment, were scattered around. It was as fine a setup as he’d ever seen…and he’d darn near sell his soul to own it.
A Border collie lay sleeping in a patch of sunshine on the porch. When Matt drove up to the front of the house the animal sprang to her feet and streaked down the steps, barking furiously.
Zach, Matt and J.T. climbed out of the SUV, and the dog continued to growl. Following Zach’s lead, they let her sniff their hands. When she was satisfied, the men went up the walk and climbed the steps, the Collie trotting along beside them, tail wagging.
Their knock was answered by an elderly Hispanic woman.
“¿Sí, señors?” Her face went slack with shock and she clasped her face between her palms. “¡Aiee! ¡Madre de Dios! It is you! Señorita Colleen’s muchachos!”
Before any of them could respond the woman surged forward, hugging first one, then the other, weeping and babbling in an incoherent mix of English and Spanish.
“Dammit to hell, Maria! What in tarnation are you caterwauling about!” a male voice inside the house bellowed.
Boot heels hammered across the foyer an instant before a gray-haired man appeared in the doorway. Backing up a step, Maria wrung her hands, her worried gaze bouncing back and forth between the four males.
The old man’s weathered skin resembled aged leather. He was shorter than Zach and his brothers by about two inches and lean to the point of boniness, but he looked as tough as a pine knot.
“Whoever you are and whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested, so get the hell off my property.”
As he spoke the old man’s gaze skimmed over them, then did a double take, flashing back to Zach. His faded blue eyes narrowed and sharpened as recognition dawned. He stared for the space of three heartbeats before switching to the other two men.
Zach would not have thought it possible, but the old man’s expression grew even harder, and his eyes narrowed with pure hatred when his gaze settled on J.T.
“So…she whelped three of you, did she?”
Maria made a distressed sound, which drew the old man’s attention. “Get back to your duties, woman. This is no business of yours.”
“Are you Seamus Rafferty?”
“That I am.” His flinty stare returned to J.T.
“My name is Zach Mahoney. These are my brother’s, Matt Dolan and J.T. Conway. We’re here because—”
“I know who you are,” the old man snapped. “No matter what you call yourselves, you’re still Colleen’s bastards.” He jabbed a
