Free White Dove's Promise by Stella Bagwell Page B

decorating in the house.
    Across the room, Jared spoke up. “I hope your mother didn’t give you a bad time about coming over here this evening.”
    Kerry wasn’t about to tell him exactly what her mother had said. It was too humiliating. “I’m a grown woman, but she still wants to treat me as if I’m a teenager,” Kerry told him.
    He carried a plate of chocolate chip and pecan cookies over to the table and placed it in front of her. “Some parents are like that,” he empathized, then added in a nostalgic voice, “I sometimes wonder what my mom would be saying to me if she was alive today. Probably that I’m getting old and I need to find a nice girl and settle down.”
    The wry grin that followed his words said he considered the idea amusing. Apparently he’d never had a hankering for one special woman and a few little Coltons to call his own, Kerry decided.
    Beneath the soft glow of the lamp, Kerry’s eyes searched his strong profile. “You hardly look old,” she pointed out.
    â€œThirty-four. That may not sound old, but my father was married and had several children by the time he was my age.”
    â€œYour parents were killed in a plane crash, weren’t they?”
    He nodded with a sad sort of acceptance. “In 1987. They were vacationing in New Mexico and their small plane was caught in an unexpected blizzard. It went down south of Taos.”
    Kerry sipped the coffee, then said, “I didn’t really know Sally or Trevor, but I remember when the accident happened. I must have been about eleven at the time and I kept thinking how awful it would be not to have my mother and father.”
    Jared sighed. “It was awful, Kerry. For all five of us. Especially my younger sister Willow. She was only sixteen at the time. But I think having siblings to lean on always makes hard times a little easier to bear. And it helped that our grandmother, Gloria, was around to fill in a part of the gap.”
    â€œIs she still living?” Kerry asked curiously.
    Jared nodded. “Gran lives with Willow over the feed store. And her father, George, is still living, too.”
    The cookie in Kerry’s hand paused in midair. “You have a great-grandfather?”
    A smile of genuine fondness spread across Jared’s face. “Oh yes. Great-grandfather lives in the country about thirty minutes or so from Black Arrow. In the same house he’s always lived in. We grandchildren have tried to talk him into selling the place and moving into town, but he won’t hear of it. That’s always been his home and he wouldn’t give up his livestock for anything. Thankfully he has one neighbor that keeps a pretty close eye on him.”
    Kerry shook her head with amazement. Other than Enola, she had a maternal grandmother who lived about fifty miles north in Anadarko. What little was left of her father’s people were scattered in some of the western states. Since they were never interested in her fatherMarvin’s family while he’d been alive, she hardly expected to hear from them in the future.
    â€œIt must be wonderful to have a relative who has lived that long and seen so many changes in our world. I’m sure he has many stories to tell.”
    Laughter rolled from Jared’s mouth and as Kerry’s gaze drank in his bronze features, she could see why women had always been drawn to him. His happy, laidback manner coupled with his rough-hewn looks made him a heady force to reckon with.
    â€œStories! Grandfather George is so full of tales we’re not sure where the real ones end and the fiction begins. He’s one of the few pure Comanches still living around here and he doesn’t let any of his family forget it. Our heritage is important to him.”
    Kerry’s expression brightened. “I think that’s wonderful,” she said, then just as suddenly a wistfulness came over her. “My father