“It’s a fine thing you’ve done,” Thomas said quietly. “But I think there’s one change needed.”
“What’s that?” Grady asked.
“I think it should be the Blackhawk-Hanson Ranch. That would make it the real tribute it ought to be.”
Karen had considered that, then dismissed it, fearing that it would negate the meaning of the gesture to Grady’s ancestors. “Are you sure?” she asked, kneeling beside him.
Thomas Blackhawk rested his hand on her head in a gesture that was part blessing, part affection. “I’m very sure, child. No tribute to the past is complete if it ignores part of the history.”
“Then the Blackhawk-Hanson Ranch it is,” Grady said. “Maybe one day our son will grow up to run the place.”
All three of them looked at the boy sleeping so peacefully in his great-grandfather’s arms. He had quite a legacy to live up to, Karen thought, gazing from his father to his great-grandfather.
Then she grinned. The men in her life were really something. And with Kenny Oldham spending so much of his time with them these days in an attempt to make up for his part in the fire, she was surrounded by males. She needed a daughter to even things up a bit. She met Grady’s gaze.
“I think your grandfather has things under control in here,” she began.
Grady grinned. “Absolutely. What did you have in mind?”
“Don’t tell him in front of me,” Thomas said. “I’m an old man. I don’t need to know the details.”
She winked at him. “Don’t worry. I’ll whisper my plans after I get him all alone.”
A smile spread across the old man’s face. “If he doesn’t know without you spelling it out, he’s no grandson of mine.”
“I agree,” Grady said, leading her from the room. “Talk is highly overrated.”
“Then I’ll show you,” she said, closing their bedroom door securely behind her.
She was pretty sure he’d gotten the message even before her blouse hit the floor.
Sherryl Woods
