The Rancher's Redemption

“A zoo?” Had he heard Ethan right? “When did a zoo open in town? And who was the fool who thought that was a good idea in Falcon Creek?”

“It’s a petting zoo. It was Zoe’s idea. And the guests really like it.” Ethan’s gaze swept the photos on the mantel. “I hate to admit it, but there might be something to the guest ranch. It could help the place stay afloat. You know, diversify income. That’s why the water rights are so important.”

Ben studied his brother the way he scrutinized an opposing counsel’s witness, looking for sincerity and certainty. Finding both, he asked, “Do you know why Rachel brought this lawsuit now?”

Ethan shook his head.

“Someone gave her the history of water use here on the ranch.” Ben couldn’t imagine Big E going that soft. Unless she’d gotten her figures from someone at the water company, the only other people with knowledge of and access to the water bills were Zoe, Katie Montgomery and her father, Lochlan, the ranch’s foreman. Lochlan had been managing things on the Blackwell Ranch for years and was as loyal as they came. Same for his daughter. “Now that Big E is acting irrationally, my money’s on Zoe.”

“Regardless, you’ll handle it,” Ethan said stiffly.

Standing so near his twin, the loss of their close relationship was an ache in Ben’s chest.

“Jon wants to sell the ranch,” Ethan blurted. “Combined, we can get a majority stake in the ranch and could wrest control from Big E. Jon’s going to call a vote. I want to stay. I’m staking my livelihood here. My future.” The words stopped tumbling out of his mouth, slowed, were given weight. “For the future of my child, Ben.”

Ben drew back. He knew what Ethan was asking. He wanted Ben’s vote to keep the Blackwell Ranch within the family. “And if I lose the water rights? What then?”

“Don’t talk like that. Dad wouldn’t want us to walk away from our heritage.” Ethan placed a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Maybe roots and family aren’t important to you, but they’re important to me. Think about the memories we had growing up here. Riding the range. Camping under the stars. Running around a safe little town. When you have kids someday—”

“Big E ruined that for me.” Ben brushed Ethan’s hand away. “The ranch, the town, my life.”

“I notice you didn’t say anything about a broken heart,” Ethan said softly. “Let it go, Ben. Move on.”

Never look back, boy.

“It’s kind of hard to move on when you’ve returned to the very spot where you started.” Ben hated that he sounded pathetic.

“Do you want me to say I’m sorry that I waited until I knew for sure they’d eloped? Because I will.” Ethan didn’t sound resentful or pompous. He sounded earnest. “I’m sorry I made sure you couldn’t catch up to the woman who didn’t love you. I’m sorry that meant you heard about their elopement from someone else in front of an audience. And...” Ethan shuffled his booted feet. “And I’m sorry we haven’t been close since then.”

“I...” Ben swallowed. An apology. It was what Ben had waited for. And yet, he didn’t know what to do.

Outside the window, the tire swing spun in the breeze.

“Higher!” a six-year-old Ben had demanded of their grandfather.

Ethan sat inside the tire swing while Ben stood on top of it. With each push from Big E, the wind had whistled past Ben’s ears almost as fast as when he rode Cisco, Jon’s bay mare.

His parents were cutting birthday cake for Tyler and Chance on the picnic table. Tyler swiped a glob of frosting and flung it in Chance’s dark hair. They giggled even as they tussled, trying to reach more cake.

Laughter. Smiles. The feeling that all was right with the Blackwells’ world and that they were invincible. When was the last time Ben had felt that way? He couldn’t remember. His life was a series of court cases where Ben protected big utility companies from greater consumer liability. Gas leaks. Energy surges. Fires sparked by downed power lines.

And the subsequent loss of life. There was no joy in putting a dollar figure on death. No laughter when negotiating with an attorney sitting next to a grieving, tear-stained mother holding a baby who’d never know her dad.

“I apologized,” Ethan said to Ben now, the light dimming in his eyes. He turned to go.

“Wait.” Ben had no idea what to say. The very air between them felt taut with tension. “Thank you.”

Ethan gave a jerky nod. “Now that we’ve dealt with that... I need you on my team. The way we used to be.” His words were stilted, as if he hadn’t practiced what he’d say and didn’t know how to say it now. “I can buy you out later.” He grimaced. “Well, not for a couple years. Student loans and...” Ethan drew a deep breath. “Just...don’t make a decision on selling now. Stop and think about it, for my sake.” He walked out.

Ben sank into the leather cigar chair. Ethan was getting married. He was going to be a father. He had his life planned out. Hopefully he was headed for happiness. A part of Ben wanted to crow with ironic laughter. And yet...

In rolled jealousy like a toxic tide, eating his insides.

Ben was thirty-two. Jobless. Wifeless. Childless. Back where he started. Back where everything went bad.

Never look back.

He wanted to side with Jon and sell the ranch. He wanted to put the ranch and the past behind him just like he was putting Transk, Ipsum & Levi in his rearview mirror.

They gave you the boot, boy.

Enough!

Ben moved the leather cigar chair to the left of the fireplace out of the way, pried the floorboard free and stared at the safe. Someone besides Big E had to have the combination. Katie or Lochlan were the most likely candidates.

His stomach growled. It was past dinnertime. He replaced the floorboard and went to the kitchen.

Ben surveyed the contents of the pantry and then the fridge. There wasn’t much to eat, not a fresh vegetable in the house. Canned green beans. Canned pork and beans. Canned chili beans. Even though there were low-salt and no-salt versions, everything was processed.

In New York, he’d have ordered something delivered. Beef stir-fry with quinoa sounded good. Sushi. Chicken chop salad.

You’ve gotten weak, boy.

No. The fact was he’d never learned to cook like an adult.

Big E’s idea of providing for five boys was to tell them to make something for themselves. He’d assigned them days of the week to cook dinner. Ben and his brothers had spent many nights in the kitchen baking frozen pizza and boiling hot dogs. Some of the Blackwell brothers had progressed to a cookbook. One winter, one of Big E’s wives had taught Jon the rudiments of the spice rack. Ben had survived college on dorm food, fruit, fast food and peanut butter sandwiches. Without takeout or delivery, he’d be resorting to the same.

Ben stared at the sparkly pink backsplash, the pink trimmed cabinets with glass knobs, the pink-feathered crystal chandelier.

Who’s gotten weak, old man?

He’d skip dinner. He’d go for a run.

Ben grabbed his suitcase and headed upstairs toward the bedroom he’d shared with Ethan growing up. He stopped in the doorway, nearly dropping his suitcase for the second time that day.

Zoe hadn’t contained her redecorating to the common areas.

Instead of bunk beds and two old oak dressers, there was a queen-size bed buried beneath a mountain of frilly pink pillows. The walls had gold-striped wallpaper. The curtains were sparkly silver and draped into a pool on the floor.

How much did this cost?

For the first time in five years, Ben almost felt sorry for his grandfather.

Ben slung his bag on the end of the bed and withdrew his running clothes. The sun was dropping low on the horizon. The wind would be picking up on the high plains, whipping down through the mountains. He dressed for chill temperatures.

A few minutes later, he ran down the steps and cut across the series of pastures that separated the ranch buildings from the river. This wasn’t a run in Central Park on smooth pavement. This was uneven ground, dotted with cow pies and prairie dog potholes. There were dips and rises blanketed with brown grass. The wind filled his ears and his lungs. It whipped through his hair.

Betrayals didn’t matter. Water rights didn’t matter. Past mistakes didn’t matter.