took echoed the anger seething inside him. Damn Gus McBride! For as long as Taylor could remember, he’d hated the faceless, nameless man who hadn’t been there for him as other fathers were for their sons. He’d only wanted the answer to one question—Why?—and now he wasn’t even going to get that. Because Gus McBride was dead and had been for a long time.
And that, more than anything, was what infuriated him the most. For years, he’d resented a man who was already dead, and he hadn’t even known it. He felt like a fool. Somehow, he should have known, dammit. But not even his mother had guessed that Gus McBride was dead. If she had, she would have been devastated, and for the life of him, Gus didn’t know why. The man had never loved her or he wouldn’t have walked away from her. As far as Taylor was concerned, the jackass hadn’t respected her, either, or he wouldn’t have had sex with her without protecting her.
He should have had to answer for that, if nothing else, Taylor thought grimly. It was no more than he deserved. But, no! In this, too, he’d somehow managed to escape the repercussions of his behavior. Taylor knew he was being unreasonable—Gus hadn’t died deliberately so he wouldn’t have to face his illegitimate son—but that’s what it felt like. And it infuriated him that Gus had that much control over his emotions, that this man that he had resented for as long as he could remember could tie him in knots from the grave and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
What the hell was he going to do now?
Fuming, unsure what his next move would be, he almost walked right past the library. There was, he thought grimly, no longer any reason to keep up the charade that he was a writer. He might as well go back to the Mountain View Inn, pack his bags, and head back to San Diego. There was nothing he could do here.
But instead of returning to the inn, he found himself walking up the front steps to the library, after all. This was, he thought bitterly, his one and only chance to find out everything he could about Gus McBride and try to understand what his mother had possibly seen in such a worthless man. Then he planned to go home and forget the man he should have grown up calling Dad ever existed.
His chiseled face set in grim lines, he stepped inside the library and wasn’t surprised to find it practically deserted. After all, it wasn’t even nine o’clock in the morning. An old woman sat at a desk in the genealogy area, obviously working on a family tree, and a thin man with bottle-thick glasses was comfortably ensconced in an old leather chair in the periodical section, reading the Denver paper. Other than the librarian, who was busy dusting the shelves, they had the place to themselves.
Which was just the way he wanted it, Taylor thought as he found the local history section and the newspaper archives. He wanted to be left in peace to satisfy his curiosity about Gus, then he was getting the hell out of Liberty Hill.
Deciding to start with the end of his father’s life and work backwards, he pulled out the newspaper archives and began searching for his obituary. A computer would have made the job go much faster, but the Liberty Hill library was obviously caught in a time warp. There wasn’t a computer anywhere in sight.
Not that that was a problem, he soon discovered. Even though Gus had died years ago, searching for his obituary wasn’t nearly as difficult as it would have been in a city. Liberty Hill was a small community, and there were only a few deaths recorded in the local paper each week. Finding the obits from twenty years ago only took a matter of minutes.
GUS MCBRIDE DIES!
The all-cap headlines of the obituary seemed to jump right off the page and slap him in the face. Taylor stiffened, and just that easily, found himself reading about his father’s life.
Gus McBride died October 3, 1983, at his ranch in Liberty Hill, at the age of 44. He is survived by his loving wife, Sara J. McBride, children: Joseph McBride, Jane McBride, Zeke McBride, and Merry McBride, and numerous nephews and nieces.
A member of one of the founding families of Liberty Hill, Gus was president of the Colorado Cattlemen’s Association from 1979 to 1983, a Boy Scout leader for the last fifteen years of his life, and a deacon in his church. A loving father and husband, he will be sorely missed.
Visitation will be Tuesday night, October 5, between 7:00 p.m. and 9:00 p.m., at Liberty Hill Funeral Chapel. Funeral services will be at 10:00 a.m., Wednesday, October 6, at the funeral home, with interment following at the McBride family cemetery at Twin Pines, the family ranch.
Later, Taylor couldn’t have said how long he sat at one of the library’s time-worn oak tables, staring at his father’s faded obituary, before the words finally sank in. Phoebe had, without being aware of it, already informed him he had a sister. Now, it turned out, he had another sister and two brothers. When he’d planned the trip to Liberty Hill to search for his father, he’d known, of course, that there was a good possibility that he had a couple of half brothers or sisters walking around Colorado that he knew nothing about. He’d never dreamed there were four of them.
And he felt nothing. Nothing but resentment.
If his mother had been alive, she would have been less than pleased with him. In spite of the fact that she’d been disowned by her own parents, she’d valued family and had always regretted the fact that she couldn’t give that to him. Although she’d never discussed the matter with him, he knew she would have wanted him to give his father’s other children a chance if they showed an interest in developing a relationship with him.
It wasn’t going to happen.
At the thought, he could almost hear his mother clicking her tongue at him in disapproval. But it took more than blood to make a family. The legitimate children of Gus McBride had been raised on the family ranch. They had grown up with all the rights and privileges of a McBride. They knew who their father was, their grandfather, where the family came from, where they, themselves would live and die. Hell, they even knew where they would be buried!
And what had been his birthright? Because of Gus McBride, he hadn’t had a father, hadn’t had grandparents—on either side! When he was little, there’d been no father to chase away the boogeyman in the closet when he had bad dreams, no dad to teach him to fish or hunt or the million and one other things a good father taught his children.
His mother had tried to step up and fill the roll of both parents, and he had to give her credit. She’d done a damn good job. But she couldn’t do it all. She was a woman, and there were times when she had to deal with her own fears. She’d needed a man, a husband, to protect her, just as he’d needed a father. They’d had neither.
Because Gus McBride had been halfway across the country, protecting his real family.
And Taylor would bet money that Zeke, Merry, Joe and Jane weren’t scared at night when they were growing up. They hadn’t worried about the bills or having enough money for new clothes for school each year. They didn’t hate the neighborhood they had to live in. They’d grown up in the Colorado Rockies, for heaven’s sake, on a ranch that was started by some of the first settlers in the area. That alone was like growing up in a national park.
Did they know how lucky they were? Growing up, they’d had it all. Taylor wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d thought their daddy was a saint. He wasn’t. Unfortunately, they’d never know that.
Unless he told them.
Deep down inside the very core of him, a voice reminded him that he wasn’t the kind of man—or lawyer—who hurt innocent people. Normally, he would have agreed, but the bitterness that rose in him every time he thought about Gus McBride drowned out his common decency. All he could think of was that it wasn’t fair that his father had
