I’ve been told.”
Seamus turned his attention on Matt. “Now, you—you don’t favor either of them. You’re just a mutt mixture of both.” He looked down at Matt’s cane, and his mouth curled with contempt. “Got a gimp leg, I see. Not much use to anyone, are you?”
Matt’s jaw tightened and his piercing blue eyes flamed.
Zach made a subtle shift, placing himself between Matt and the old man. “We’re looking for some information. We’re hoping you can help us.”
Seamus Rafferty’s hard stare swung to Zach and held for an interminable time. Finally he snapped, “Come in. I don’t conduct business on the porch.” He stomped back inside, leaving them no choice but to follow.
As they walked through the entry hall a young woman dressed in snug-fitting jeans and a Western-style shirt and boots descended the stairs. She was small and wand slim. At first glance Zach took her for a teenager, but drawing nearer he realized she was in her mid-twenties. Her skin was ivory, her eyes blue, her hair black. The thick mane hung down her back almost to her waist, arrow straight and as shiny as polished ebony. Though she appeared to wear no makeup she had the kind of delicate beauty that took your breath away.
Zach wondered who she was. Another of Seamus’s grandchildren, perhaps? Or a late-in-life child? Or perhaps his wife?
The last thought was so distasteful Zach dismissed it immediately.
The woman came to a halt on the bottom stair as they walked by, but even so she was still not eye-level with Zach. He realized that she could be no more than five feet two or three—and that her eyes were not blue at all, but a startling violet.
He thought surely Seamus would stop and introduce them, but the old man stomped past the stairs without so much as a glance in her direction.
“Seamus?” she called after him. “What’s going on?”
The husky contralto coming from such a small, delicate woman surprised Zach, but he was given no opportunity to contemplate its sexy quality.
“This has nothing to do with you, Willie. Go on about your own business girl, and keep your nose out of mine.”
He led them into a walnut-paneled office, took a seat behind a massive desk, then motioned impatiently to the leather sofa and chairs by the fire.
When they were seated he glared at them. “Well?”
“We came here hoping we’d find our mother, but we learned in town that she left here years ago,” J.T. said. “We’re hoping that you can tell us how we can get in touch with her.”
Seamus snorted. “You expect me to believe that’s all you want? Do you take me for a fool?”
“I don’t think you want me to answer that.”
Matt’s quiet comment gleaned a dagger stare from Seamus, but J.T. hurried on. “I don’t know what you think we’re after, but I assure you, we did come here to look for our mother.”
“You can’t assure me of anything. I don’t trust you any more than I trusted that no-good daddy of yours.”
A muscle in J.T.’s cheek began to tic and his smiled slipped a bit. “Nevertheless, it’s true. We were adopted by different families, and until late last summer, none of us knew the other existed. Matt and I made the initial connection by accident.”
“With these,” Matt said, pulling his medallion piece out from beneath his shirt and whipping it off over his head.
Zach and J.T. quickly followed suit. Gathering the three pie-shaped wedges, Zach rose and laid them on the desk in front of Seamus. With one finger, he slid the pieces of silver together into a perfect fit. The old man leaned over, scowling as he read the inscription.
“J.T. located Zach a few months ago,” Matt continued. “Now we’re trying to find our mother. Or, failing that, to at least learn what we can about her. We were hoping you could help us.”
“You’re barking up the wrong tree. I got nothing to say. That ungrateful girl has been dead to me since the day she confessed that she’d gotten herself knocked up. I threw her out and told her to never come back.”
“For getting pregnant?” J.T. looked dumbfounded. “Women have babies out of wedlock all the time. Some are even planned.”
“Not thirty-six years ago they didn’t,” the old man snapped. “And I wouldn’t stand for it today, either. I’ll have no harlots or bastards in my family.”
“How about her belongings?” Matt inquired. “She must have left something here. Could we take a look at those?”
“Burned it all years ago.”
Seamus put his hands flat on the desktop and levered himself to his feet. “Let’s cut the crap. I know damned well you didn’t come here looking for your tramp of a mother. You came hoping to get your hands on this ranch. Well, I’m telling you that just ain’t gonna happen. The Rocking R isn’t going to fall into the hands of Mike Reardon’s by-blows.” He thumped the desktop with the side of his fist. “By heaven, I’ll give the place away before I’ll let that happen.”
“That’s it. I’m outta here. I told you two this was a bad idea.” Zach headed toward the door.
“He’s right. C’mon. We don’t have to take this.” Using his cane, Matt levered himself to his feet and followed.
Zach snatched open the door and strode out—and barreled into the young woman they had seen a few moments before. She hit his chest with an “Oof!” and bounced off.
“Damn.” Zach grabbed her shoulders to keep her from falling, set her aside with a terse, “Excuse me, miss,” and continued on toward the entrance.
He had a fleeting impression of startled violet eyes and skin like ivory silk, but beyond that he paid her no mind. He was too intent on getting the hell away from Seamus Rafferty before he lost his temper and planted his fist right in the old coot’s sneering face—grandfather or no.
“Seamus, is something wrong?” the woman asked as Matt and J.T. trooped past in Zach’s wake. “Who are those men?”
Neither Zach nor his brothers waited around to hear the old man’s answer.
“Of all the foul-tempered, suspicious, spiteful old bastards!” Matt snarled the instant they gained the front porch.
“Yeah, Gramps is a bit of a disappointment.”
“If that’s supposed to be funny—”
“Knock it off, both of you.” Zach fixed his brothers with a hard look. “We gave it our best shot and got nowhere. Now can we just drop this whole thing and forget about the past?”
“Suits me.”
“I don’t think we ought to give up,” J.T. argued.
Matt spat out an expletive and rolled his eyes.
“Look, you do what you want, but I’m out
