Breathless(56)

“How’s your dream going?”

She forced herself back to the present. “Still waiting to hear back from the letters I told you I sent out.”

“Keep riding the bronc.”

She nodded. “I will.”

They were still studying each other silently when Regan came out. “Eddy sent me to tell you you’re about to miss dessert.”

They reluctantly severed the contact and Kent said, “Can’t have that. We’re coming.”

Regan went back inside.

He stood and held out his hand. “You ready?”

“Yes.” She placed her hand in his and let him draw her to her feet as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

He kissed her fingers, causing a quiet warmth to ripple over her. “Thanks for helping me calm down.”

“You’re welcome.”

Inside, Portia still on his mind, Kent piled his plate high with Eddy’s signature peach cobbler, then mounded ice cream on top. He pointedly ignored his father who seemed to get the message and kept his distance. But when Kent finished his dessert, Oliver walked to his side. “Can I speak with you privately for a few moments?”

“Why, so you can upbraid me again?”

He dropped his eyes as if embarrassed. “No. Rhine said we could use his office. Do you know where that is?”

Kent didn’t bother hiding his irritation. “Follow me.”

Upon entering the quiet space, Oliver sat but Kent remained standing.

“First of all, let me apologize for what I said. It served no purpose other than to anger you and make me look like an old fool.”

Kent agreed and wanted to ask if he was seeking forgiveness because Sylvia had demanded he do so, but he didn’t ask.

His father sighed. “I’m dying, Kenton.”

Kent froze.

“The doctors have given me six months to a year tops to get my affairs in order.”

Kent ran frantic eyes over him and for the first time really focused on him. And what he saw scared him: the sparse gray hair, the tired eyes, slumped shoulders, and sallow skin. He was also incredibly thin. Kent had chalked up his appearance to his being old. Oliver was in his late seventies, but now he realized that there was more at play. “Does Sylvia know?”

“Yes. She and I have spent the past six months going from doctor to doctor hoping to get a different diagnosis, but they all told us the same thing.”

“Are you in pain?”

“Constantly.”

Kent didn’t know what to say. Yes, he and his father butted heads like bighorn sheep but this was too awful to think about. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Other than taking me as I am and not fighting me over the money I plan to leave you, no.”

Kent replied in a voice softened by emotion. “Oliver, I don’t need your money.”

“I know how proud you are, Kenton, but you will need it for the family you and Portia may make together.”

Kent couldn’t help the wry smile that curved his lips. “You picked up on that, did you?”

“You should’ve seen the look she shot Ruth when Ruth tried to go after you. I think everyone in the room knew which way the wind was blowing after that. My apologies for thinking I could control who you’d choose to love, too.”

And because his father was dying and the knowledge was heartbreaking, he replied sincerely, “Apology accepted.”

Later as Kent lay in bed surrounded by the darkness, his heart still ached. For all their differences and years of conflict, the knowledge that Oliver would spend the last months of his life wracked by pain from disease was not something he’d ever envisioned. He wiped away the tears dampening his cheeks. Why couldn’t he simply die of old age while he slept? he wanted to shout, but he knew fate didn’t care. Having never known his mother, Kent hadn’t grieved her, even though he’d desperately wanted a mother like other children while he was growing up. But Oliver had always been there, even when he hadn’t wanted him to be, and Kent could already feel the hole his death would leave in his life. They’d discussed the money he would inherit and it was a surprisingly large sum. Oliver had come to Virginia City in the early sixties at the beginning of the silver boom, and like many of the city’s residents, his accumulated investments had left him a wealthy man. If Rhine approved Kent’s request to purchase the Blanchard property, he’d have no problem meeting the price, and there’d be more than enough left over to found the beginnings of a good life for himself and Portia. Oliver’s impending demise made Kent want to go knock on her door right then and there, and ask her to be his wife because each passing day brought them both closer to their own deaths, and he wanted to spend every second of his remaining time on earth by her side.



Because the members of the Fontaine household, including Matt and Kent had agreed to help out the Lanes, Portia had been left with the task of getting Ruth and the Randolphs to the rodeo. But when she went to their suite to see if they were ready, Sylvia said, “Honey, Oliver isn’t feeling well this morning. Would it be okay if we stayed behind?”

He looked listless and tired. “Certainly,” she replied. “Is there anything I can do for you to make you more comfortable, Mr. Randolph?”

He gave her a weary smile. “No. I just need to rest up. The train ride took more out of me than I expected.”