Читать книгу Wishes for Tomorrow: Westmoreland's Way - Brenda Jackson - Страница 11

Prologue

“I know how much finding out everything there is about your grandfather means to you, and I wish you the best in that endeavor. If you ever need anything, you, your brothers and cousins should know that the Atlanta Westmorelands are here. Call on us at any time.”

Dillon Westmoreland drained his wineglass before meeting the older man’s eyes. He’d only met James Westmoreland eleven months ago. He had arrived in Denver, Colorado, with his sons and nephews, claiming to be his kin. They’d had the documentation to prove it.

“Thank you, sir,” Dillon said. Their unexpected appearance at the Shady Tree Ranch had answered a lot of questions, but generated even more. After years of thinking they had no living relatives outside of Denver, it was nice to know there were others—others who hadn’t hesitated to claim them as their own.

Dillon glanced around the wedding reception given for his cousin Reggie and Reggie’s wife, Olivia. Dillon and the other Denver Westmorelands had officially met Reggie with a bunch of other Westmorelands from Atlanta at the family reunion a few months before. All it took was one look to know they were related. Their facial features, complexions and builds were practically the same. No surprise, given the fact their great-grandfathers, Reginald and Raphel, had been identical twins.

Dillon now knew the story of how his great-grandfather, Raphel Westmoreland, had split from the family at the age of twenty-two. He’d left Atlanta, Georgia, with the wife of the town’s preacher. It had been considered a despicable act and Raphel had immediately become known as the black sheep in the Westmoreland family, never to be heard from again.

Many assumed he had died before his twenty-fifth birthday with a bounty on his head for wife-stealing. Few knew that Raphel had eventually made it to Denver, married and produced a son who had given him two grandsons, who in turn had blessed him with fifteen great-grands. Dillon was proud to say, at thirty-six, he was the oldest of Raphel’s great-grandchildren. That left the Denver Westmoreland’s legacy right smack on Dillon’s shoulders.

It hadn’t been easy, but he had done his best to lead his family. And he hadn’t done too badly. All fifteen of them were successful in their own right, even the three that were still in college. But then you had to really try hard to overlook his youngest brother, Bane, whose occasional brush with the law kept Dillon down at police headquarters more than he would have liked.

“Are you still determined to find out the truth about whatever happened to your great-grandfather’s other wives, or whether his previous relationships were even wives at all?” James Westmoreland asked him.

“Yes, sir. I’m taking time off from my company later this year, sometime in November, to travel to Wyoming,” Dillon said.

Through James Westmoreland’s genealogy research he had found Dillon’s family. Now it was up to the Denver Westmorelands to find answers to the questions that still plagued them about their ancestry. That was one of the reasons why the trip to Wyoming was so important to him.

“Okay, Dillon, Uncle James has had your ear long enough.”

Dillon couldn’t help but chuckle when his cousin Dare Westmoreland walked up. If there had been a doubt in anyone’s mind that the Atlanta and Denver Westmorelands were related, all they had to do was to compare him to Dare. Their features were so similar they could have been born brothers instead of cousins.

“I don’t mind,” he said truthfully. “I’m enjoying myself.”

“Well, don’t have too much fun,” Dare responded with a huge grin. “As soon as Reggie and Olivia leave for their honeymoon, we’re heading over to Chase’s Place for a game of poker.”

Dillon raised a brow. “The last time I played poker with you all, I almost lost the shirt off my back,” he said, unable to suppress a grin.

Dare gave him a huge pat on that back. “All I can say to that, Dillon, is welcome to the family.”