by R. C. Ryan
“One more time,” Dillon asked. “You don’t want the house, the land, or anything of hers from the house?”
“You got that right.” Carl nodded. “We’ll be out of this godforsaken canyon in an hour and probably never come back.”
“Okay, then, but would you please sign these papers for me stating that is your decision before you go,” Dillon asked.
Carl whipped a pen from his pocket and put his signature on all the places where the lawyer had stuck fancy little blue tabs. “I wish I’d known before we came that this was the way it was going to be. I wouldn’t have wasted my time.”
Shiloh took a deep breath and started to get up from the pew, but Waylon put a hand on her knee. “Some people are born assholes,” he whispered.
“And just get bigger with age,” she said out of the side of her mouth.
When the papers were signed, Carl and his wife didn’t go back through the fellowship hall at all but left through the front door. Dillon took a deep breath and said, “Okay, now to what I have to say to you, Waylon. I need you to sign this paper saying that you bought your ranch from Oliver Watson and there were no other owners besides you and Mr. Watson. I know all this already, since I live on up toward Claude and do the legal business for a lot of folks in the canyon, but we have to keep everything documented and legal.”
Waylon scanned through the single sheet of paper and signed it. “I don’t understand what I’ve got to do with all this, but there it is.”
“I’ve got something to read to you now,” Dillon said.
“‘If Dillon is reading this then I’m dead. I like you, Waylon Stephens. You’re a good man. I’m glad that you bought the ranch next to my place. Even though our paths only cross at church since I don’t keep goats or a steer or two anymore, I feel good knowing you are next door. This ten acres was at one time a part of the Watson Ranch. My dad bought it from his cousin, but you aren’t interested in all that history. Here’s the deal, if my nephew, who is my oldest living relative, declines to take possession of my house and land, then it should go back and become a part of the original property so it’s now yours…’” Dillon stopped and looked up.
Waylon could hardly believe what he’d just heard. “Are you saying that I just inherited her house and property?”
“Exactly,” Dillon answered and continued reading: “‘To whoever takes in my precious pets, Dillon has orders to hand over my entire bank accounts. He will take care of all the particulars concerning the transfer, but this is my desire. So if you are in this room, and Blister and Callie are at your house, then Dillon will explain the rest to you.’”
Waylon shook his head slowly. “What does all that mean?”
“It means that her savings and checking accounts and her portfolio of investments now are totally yours. All you have to do is sign a document saying that you will take care of the animals, love them, and give them a good home until they die.” Dillon shuffled through more papers and handed them to Waylon to sign.
“Why did you need me?” Shiloh asked.
“If Waylon is living with someone or married, then they have to agree to help take care of the dog and cat,” Dillon told them.
“I’ll be moving out tonight,” Shiloh said.
“Then I only need Waylon’s signature,” he said.
“I don’t need to be paid to give those animals a good home,” Waylon said as he signed the papers.
“You’re a good man,” Dillon said. “But this is the way she wanted things done. I have the past year’s bank statements and her portfolio right here. She paid me enough to retain me for the rest of this year, so if you need anything call me. That pretty much concludes our business, so if you have no more questions, I’m going to make myself a plate of food. I sure like potluck dinners.”
Waylon glanced down at the figures on the top paper, blinked a dozen times, and still couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many zeroes in my life. I’d never have guessed that Granny Denison was so rich!”
“Well, I for one do not intend to tell Bonnie about this. She was the one who rescued the animals to begin with and brought them to us.” Shiloh smiled.
Waylon’s mind went around in circles so fast that he had trouble catching a single thought, so he finally said, “Let’s take all this out to the van and then have some dinner. Then we better go home and take good care of Blister and Callie. You think maybe I should buy them gold-plated feeding and water dishes?”
“No, but I think maybe you should turn her house into a bunkhouse and hire some full-time help,” she suggested. “Or maybe even buy the Dunlap Ranch that borders you on the south. It’s been for sale ever since I got here.”
“I wanted that piece of property, but it’s twice as big as the Watson Ranch, and I couldn’t afford it,” he admitted.
“Well, darlin’, now you can.” She stood up and handed him his crutches. “A bit of advice though. I’d only tell about inheriting the property and house but not the money. If you do, you should at least wait until your foot is fully healed.”
“Why’s that?” he asked.
She picked up the stack of papers. “Because you’re going to need to outrun every single girl in the canyon when they find out how much you’re worth.”
Waylon hoped that Shiloh was way out in front, leading the pack, should that ever become the case.
Chapter Eight
The doctor cleared Waylon to do anything that he felt like doing, including driving and lifting, so long as he took it easy on the ankle for another week. As soon as they left his office, Waylon asked Shiloh to drive him to the body shop to see about his truck.
Suddenly, Shiloh’s heart felt like someone had laid a rock on top of it. She thought she’d be relieved to go back to her routine on Malloy Ranch. Her mother used to tell her that she couldn’t have her Popsicle and eat it too. That rang more true right then than it ever had before. She wanted to go home so she and Bonnie could get used to not having Abby Joy around all the time, but she wanted to stay with Waylon too.
“Man, it feels good to get off those crutches,” Waylon said on the way out to her van. “It’s still a little tender, but I’ve had a worse sore ankle after being thrown from a bull.”
She just nodded, then got into the van and drove back toward Claude, where the body shop was located. From there he’d drive himself down into the base of the canyon and home.
“What’re you goin’ to name the kittens?” she asked.
“That’s your job, remember?” He turned on the radio. “You’re supposed to name the babies like Blake sings about.”
“But the dog came with a name and so did the mama cat,” she argued.
“I checked when we went by the house. We’ve got two girls and one boy kitten. I reckon if we’re going to keep four cats in the house, we’d better be gettin’ in touch with a vet before too long.” He kept time for a few seconds with his thumb on the console, and then he began to sing with Willie Nelson doing “Help Me Make It Through the Night.”
Shiloh sang harmony with him, and agreed with the lyrics, which said he didn’t care what was right or wrong, and that the devil could take tomorrow because he didn’t want to be alone and needed help to make it through the night. That’s the way she felt too—just one more night with him beside her in that big king-size bed, and this time they’d do more than sleep.
The body shop had his truck ready, so he drove it back to his ranch, and parked in front of the house. He got out and sat on the porch steps and waited for her to get the van parked. She got the papers the lawyer had given him from the back seat and handed them off to him on her way inside.
“My suitcase is packed. I just need to get it, unless you want me to stick around to help with chores tonight,” she said.
“I think I’ve got it covered.” He stood to his feet. “Shiloh, thank you for everything. If I can ever return the favor, just give me a call. I programmed my number into your phone.”
; “I surely will.” She walked past him into the house.
She wanted to say that he could ask her to stay, but why would he? With what he’d inherited that day, he could have any woman in the state of Texas. He might even have to get himself one of those number machines like they had in the fancy coffee shops just to give them all a turn.
She rolled her suitcase out onto the porch and started to carry it out to her van.
“I’ll take that for you.” He picked it up and followed her to her vehicle. “You will come back on weekends to visit the animals, won’t you?”
“Of course.” She smiled as she settled behind the wheel. “We still have to name the kittens. I’ll be thinkin’ about the two girls’ names.”
He tilted his hat back and leaned into the van, cupped her cheeks in his calloused hands, and kissed her with so much passion that the whole world disappeared. For the length of one long, hot kiss, she forgot about everything but being close to Waylon. When it ended, she leaned her head on his shoulder.
“I’ll miss you, Shiloh,” he whispered. “Don’t be a stranger. You’re welcome anytime.”
“I’ll remember that, and the same goes for you. Come on across the highway anytime you want a little company,” she told him.
“Thank you.” He took a step back and closed the door for her.
He limped back to the porch and waved until she couldn’t see him in the rearview mirror anymore. The house was empty when she got home that evening, so she rolled her suitcase into her bedroom and fell backward onto the end of the bed. With her feet dangling off the end, she stared at the ceiling. How in the hell had she fallen in love with a man in only a week’s time?
“You’re home!” Bonnie dragged herself into the room and sat down beside her. She removed her own well-worn cowboy boots and tossed them to the side and then leaned back so that she was in the same position as her sister—legs hanging off the end of the bed. “I missed you, and I’m tired of doing all the chores around here, so welcome home.”
“So you don’t want to own the ranch all by yourself?” Shiloh asked.
“Yep, I do, but if there’s a chance you ain’t never comin’ back, I’ll hire some help. I guess since you’re here that the doctor released Waylon, right?”
“He did,” Shiloh answered.
“And then Waylon released you,” Bonnie giggled. “So what did that lawyer want with y’all?”
“Seems that if Granny Denison’s relatives didn’t want her property with the stipulation that since it was family land, they couldn’t sell it, then she was giving it to Waylon. So he gained ten acres and her house today,” Shiloh answered. “You ever been in that house?”
“One time,” Bonnie said. “Remember when one of Waylon’s cows got out and came across the road? You’d gone to Claude to buy groceries, so me and Abby Joy herded the old heifer back over to Waylon’s place. Only it wasn’t his cow. We walked her over to Granny Denison’s, only to find out that it wasn’t hers either.”
Shiloh nodded. “I remember you telling me that story.” “Whose cow was it?”
“Belonged to the Dunlaps on the other side of Waylon’s place. Granny called them and they brought a cattle trailer down to get her,” Bonnie answered. “Anyway, Granny invited us in for a glass of lemonade. It’s a pretty good-size house. Maybe four or five bedrooms. She said that her folks raised a bunch of kids there.”
“Should make a fine bunkhouse then,” Shiloh said.
“Oh, yeah, but he might want to do some paintin’. Every room I saw was either painted pink or pale blue. I can’t see cowboys appreciating that kind of livin’ quarters.” Bonnie slapped her on the arm. “Enough lazin’ around. We’ve got supper to cook. Rusty will be in here in a few minutes, and he’ll be hungry as I am.”
Shiloh sat up. “You ever think that maybe we should both follow in Abby Joy’s footsteps and leave this place to Rusty? I don’t think Ezra wanted us to get along when he made his will. He wanted us to fight and be hateful to one another, and then leave the canyon so that a boy would still get the place.”
“I’m here to prove him wrong,” Bonnie said. “You havin’ second thoughts?”
“Let’s just say that I’m lookin’ at things from a different perspective,” Shiloh told her sister.
“Why’s that?” Bonnie asked.
“It all started at Granny Denison’s funeral. Sally Mae was crying, so I went back to comfort her. I realized that Ezra isn’t worth the grudge I’ve held against him, or the energy I’ve put into tryin’ to prove that I can run his ranch.” Just saying the words out loud made her feel like a load had been lifted from her shoulders.
“It’ll cost you a hundred dollars and a bottle of good whiskey.” Bonnie headed out into the hallway.
“It could be the best money I’d ever spend,” Shiloh muttered as she stood up and stretched her arms over her head.
Chapter Nine
Blister ran out of the house as soon as Waylon opened the door that Friday evening after he’d taken care of the evening chores. The short-legged mutt ran to the nearest bush, took care of business, and was already yipping to be let back in by the time Waylon removed his coat and hung it on a hook.
“And here I was afraid you’d run off and try to find your way back to Granny’s house,” Waylon told the dog when he opened the door. “You know something, Blister? I wish that Shiloh would find her way back home to this ranch, but that’s not likely to happen. She’s got her heart set on owning the Malloy place, and besides, after the way Ezra tossed her to the side, I don’t know that she’ll ever trust a guy.”
Blister sat down, and his tail thumped against the kitchen floor.
“So you agree with me?” Waylon opened the refrigerator and pulled out everything he needed to make himself a couple of hot dogs. “I already miss her, and she’s only been gone a couple of hours. Should I call her after supper?”
This time Blister swished his tail back and forth across the floor.
“I thought so,” Waylon said. “I should let her know that you and Callie miss her, and she should come over to Sunday dinner, right?”
Blister yipped in agreement.
“You and I are going to be buddies.” Waylon tossed the mutt the end off a hot dog. “We understand each other, don’t we?”
Waylon’s phone rang, ending the conversation he was having with Blister. He saw that it was his brother Cash and put it on speaker while he finished fixing his supper.
“Hey, I was goin’ to call y’all after supper, and tell you that the doctor released me, so I’m back on full ranchin’ duty,” Waylon said.
“That’s great, brother.” Cash’s tone indicated something was wrong.
Waylon’s blood ran cold until Cash sighed and started talking again. “Me and Rachel broke up, for good this time. She’s been cheating on me with Mitch, and they’re going to get married.”
Waylon hated to hear that, but he was so glad that it wasn’t even worse news—like his dad had been hurt in a ranch accident or his mother had dropped with a heart attack. He opened his mouth to say something, but then he remembered Granny Denison’s house. “You need to get the hell out of East Texas?” he asked. “I kinda came into a little bit of property today. I was thinkin’ of turnin’ the house into a bunkhouse. If you need—”
“Yes,” Cash butted in. “Can I bring Emmylou with me? She needs to get away too.”
“What’s goin’ on with her?” Waylon asked.
“Mama is stomping on her and Patsy’s last nerve about grandbabies,” Cash told him. “They both need a vacation, but Patsy has a boyfriend, and things aren’t quite as bad for her.”
“And June? What’s goin’ on with her?” Waylon asked.
“She’s the only one that can stand Grandma. She spends a lot of time over there helping her out, but me and Emmylou could sure stand a change of scenery. We can be there by suppertime tomorrow night if that’s all right,” Cash said.
“I’ll have a pot of chili waiting and e
nough work to keep you both busy for a year.” Waylon grinned. Tomorrow he was going over to the Dunlap Ranch and make an offer on it. If they accepted, that would triple the size of his ranch, but he didn’t tell Cash that bit of news right then.
“Work might keep me from shooting Rachel and Mitch,” Cash said. “Thanks so much. I’m going to tell Emmylou to pack her bags. See you tomorrow.”
Waylon finished making his hot dogs and sat down to the kitchen table with them. He looked to his right, where Shiloh had always sat, bowed his head, and said a silent grace. When he opened his eyes, she still wasn’t there, but he sure wished that she was. He wanted to tell her how overwhelmed he was with what all had happened in the last twenty-four hours.
He ate his supper, washed the dishes, and then went to the living room, where he surfed through the channels on the television. There was nothing that he wanted to watch, but the house seemed so empty without Shiloh there. He picked up a ranching magazine, flipped through it, and tossed it on the far end of the sofa.
He heard a vehicle outside, and was on his way across the floor, when someone rapped on the door. He slung it open to find Shiloh. The expression on her face said that she was anxious about something.
“You told me not to be a stranger, and I wanted…” she stammered. “You told me I could name two of the kittens and it didn’t seem right to do something that important over the phone.”
He butted in, “I was just thinking about callin’ you.” He slung open the screen door and motioned her inside.
Callie came out from her basket to greet Shiloh the moment the cat heard her voice. She dropped down on her knees in the living room to pet the mama cat. “I knew you’d miss me.”
Old folks, babies, and pets all adored her, Waylon thought. Granddad just might say that she’d do to ride the river with.
“Want a beer or a glass of sweet tea?” Waylon asked.
“Love a beer,” she replied.
He went to the kitchen, brought back two bottles, and handed one to her before he sat down on the floor beside her. “I just got off the phone with my brother Cash. He and my sister Emmylou will be here tomorrow evening. They’ll be stayin’ over at Granny Denison’s house, so I guess the idea of turning it into a bunkhouse has happened quicker than we thought.”
