Page 7 of High Water

“So you’re giving it to them because they have children?” I’m trying to clarify the point.

“Because they have families. It was your grandfather’s wish that it stay in the family. We’d hoped that meant one of you, but since neither of you is married or has children…” She shrugs. “Well, here we are. I know this probably hurts your feelings, and I hope you know that, despite whatever water there’s been under the bridge between all of us, I still love you. I’m not doing this to hurt you. It was a difficult decision, but I’m certain it’s the one your grandfather would have made.”

“And if we had children?” I pose the hypothetical.

“If you had families, then I would pass it on to one of you. But you don’t, do you?” She pauses to let us answer, and when we both stay silent, she continues on, “And given that you’re both well into your thirties and confirmed bachelors, I don’t see that happening.”

“But if it did?” Chase sees the same opening I do.

“If it did, then I would reconsider. But this isn’t only about children. Your father had children. He didn’t have a family—or at least not one he managed to keep together or treat like family. This is a family ranch. It’s meant to be a place where we gather for the holidays and raise our kids. A place where we made memories and a home where anyone in this family could always return to. Not just a scrap of dirt to be bought and sold and borrowed against.”

“Is that what our father did?” I ask, morbid curiosity getting the better of me. “Borrow against it?” I stopped speaking with him years ago, and my contact with my grandmother was limited while he was alive. She didn’t like to pick sides. He was wrong for what he did. She knew it. But he was her son, and she reasoned his father hadn’t been much better to him. The best she could do was try to treat everyone equally—with mercy and forgiveness, whatever their sins. I suppose if I were in his position, I’d be grateful. In mine, I’m cynical.

“Yes. I had to use a considerable amount of my savings to dig it out of the hole he put it in. Those savings were mine and Grandpa’s blood, sweat, and tears. Seeing it wasted.” There’s a sharp breath before she blows it out, and the shake of her head punctuates the thought. “I won’t let it happen again. The cousin it’s been willed to is responsible and invested. He has three children, and every one of them is excited about the possibilities for the ranch.”

“And what about us?”

“I plan to leave you whatever money I have left over. Split equally.”

“What if we manage to have a family before you—” Chase pauses to find a better word for her death, and her mouth quivers with amusement that he’s trying to censor himself. It’s not an easy feat. “Before you go?”

“If you have a family before I go, I’d consider rethinking the will.”

“Truly?” I ask.

“It’d have to be the real deal. Not just you racing to knock some poor woman up right now because you want the land. But yes.” She nods. “I told you. I’m not trying to hurt you boys or be unfair. I’m merely trying to do right by the family name.”

Chase looks at me, and I see the challenge glimmer in his eye. The man is going to be married to whoever he’s fucking right now before the year is out. At least if he gets his way.

I, on the other hand, have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting married. There’s only one woman I’d consider, and she won’t even answer my texts, let alone say vows that chain her to me for a lifetime.

THREE

Aspen

Unknown:

Can we talk?

I have a lot I’d like to say, a chance to explain, and I’m sure you can guess that I have questions of my own.

Unknown:

Please give me the chance to apologize.

Please.

Unknown:

I don’t want to have this discussion in front of your brothers. I don’t know what they know or don’t know. But we need to talk.

Tell me what I have to do to get you to talk to me.

Unknown:

I’m begging you to please give me ten minutes.

Unknown: