The Rancher's Conditions

by R. S. Chapman

  Returning to her cluttered desk, she pushed several letters aside and returned a large tort book to its rightful place on the bookshelf. She was fidgety this morning, and didn’t know why. She had enough work to last her through the next month, but somehow could not gather herself together enough to get started. She was busy rearranging the pencils in their cup holder, when she was jarred by the jingle of the intercom on her desk.

  “Layne,” the young office manager said, “there’s a Joyce Callaway on the line. Shall I put her through?”

  Oh shit! Now what? “Sure,” Layne replied warily, “put her through.” She waited a brief moment while the call was connected. “Hello,” she said.

  “Miss Martin? This is Joyce Callaway.”

  Layne was about to go into all the normal courtesies when Callaway continued, cutting her short. “Erik Rivers and I have ended our relationship.”

  Well, that was a surprise! “I’m sorry to hear that, Ms. Callaway. Is there anything I can do?” A lie, if there ever was one, but what could she say?

  “Yes, absolutely! He had the audacity to tell me he didn’t think we were compatible in any way, and he wanted to start proceedings to get the kid.”

  “And exactly what is it you want me to do?”

  “Well, I’ve paid you two thousand dollars. Stop him from getting the kid.”

  “But, Ms. Callaway, if you’re not marrying Mr. Rivers, what difference will it make whether or not he has the child? I’ll certainly refund your retainer.”

  “No one walks out on me. I’ll teach him a lesson he’ll not soon forget.”

  “By keeping the child away?” Layne said.

  “Yes, by keeping the damn kid away.”

  Layne took a short moment before replying. Exactly what were her legal responsibilities? Callaway had no right to the child in any way, but the grandmother did, and her rights needed to be represented and protected. “Okay,” Layne said, “I’ll keep you informed.”

  “Good,” Callaway spat. “I’ll teach that bastard a lesson he’ll never forget! Oh, and two more things,” she continued, “the kid lives with the grandmother in Leesville, Louisiana, wherever the hell that is, and make damn sure Rivers knows it’s my money that’s doing this.”

  That changed the scenery completely. Or did it? She would still be opposing Erik Rivers! With a pounding headache threatening to get out of control, Layne gently placed the phone in the cradle, but immediately picked it up again. She’d become friends with the Clerk of Court in several legal dealings, and she needed her now. She dialed the number and waited a moment for the clerk to come on the line.

  “Clerk of court’s office,” a woman answered.

  Layne recognized her voice. “Jeannie,” she replied, “this is Layne Martin.” They exchanged pleasantries for several moments, then Layne said, “The reason I called is to ask a favor. Will you give me a call if Erik Rivers files a custody petition in family court?”

  The clerk was agreeable to her request, so she replaced the phone and returned to the window. The rain had let up and there were small breaks starting to appear in the cloud cover. She went to Barb’s office and poked her head in. “Barb,” she said, “I’m going to take a little trip, may be gone for a day or two.”

  As usual, Barb did not look up from her work, but merely gave a thumbs-up, letting Layne know she heard and understood. With that taken care of, Layne told their young office manager she’d be out of the office for a few days, but she’d let her know for sure later.

  ~ ~ ~

  Rummaging through her closet, Layne filled a small suitcase, enough for an overnight, if needed. She snapped it shut, then went to the computer and brought up a road-map program. Leesville, Louisiana. She wrote down the highway numbers on a slip of paper and put it into a breast pocket. She was ready, and after a final check of the bedroom, was out the door and on her way to find Grandma and Lucy Gerhardt.

  ~ ~ ~

  Even though Layne’s trip took her through the metropolis of Houston, she was amazed at the beauty of the countryside as the miles breezed by. Texas and Louisiana blended together as if by an artist’s brush. It was early afternoon as she approached the outskirts of Leesville. It was a much smaller town than she’d imagined, which was going to be a help in finding the person she was seeking. She pulled into a service station and went inside to find a telephone directory. She rapidly flipped the pages until she came to the page she was seeking. There it was: Molly Gerhardt.

  Holding the book in one hand, Layne dialed the number.

  “Hello?” a quiet, gentle voice answered.

  “Mrs. Gerhardt?” Layne replied. “This is Layne Martin. I’m an attorney from San Antonio, Texas. Do you have a moment? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you, and if possible, I’d like to talk with you in person.”

  “Oh my,” Mrs. Gerhardt replied, “is it anything serious? I’ll make the payment as soon as I’m able. All I have is Social Security, and that doesn’t go far.”

  “No, Mrs. Gerhardt.” Layne felt the tug of her heartstrings. The woman could barely make ends meet. “I’m not a bill collector. This concerns your granddaughter, Lucy.”

  “Is she in trouble? She’s a good girl, and has good grades in school.”

  “Mrs. Gerhardt, she’s not in any sort of trouble. It’s just something we should discuss, but I’d appreciate the opportunity to speak with you in person.”

  “Fine,” she said, after a short hesitation. “I’ll be home all afternoon.” She hesitated for another short moment. “Should Lucy be here too? She’s in school until 3:15, and the bus gets her here about 3:45.”

  “No, just you will be fine.” Layne got the address and directions to her home, then was on her way.

  She slowly drove through a disheveled lower middle-class neighborhood until she spotted the house. It was badly in need of repair, with peeling paint and rotting wood in several places. There was an old, well-used couch on the covered porch, along with several upright metal chairs.

  Layne parked the car curbside and knocked on the front door. A moment later, it was opened by a kindly, elderly woman. “Mrs. Gerhardt?” Layne asked. “I’m Layne Martin.”

  “Yes. Please come in,” she said, stepping aside for Layne to enter. The house, although small and furnished with aging furniture, was warm and cozy, and Layne immediately felt a welcoming presence. The grandmother nodded to a recliner. “Sit down. Would you like something to drink? I have a soft drink, if you’d like.”

  The recliner was well used, and Layne assumed it was Mrs. Gerhardt’s usual resting-place. “This will be just fine,” she said, walking to another chair, “and, no, nothing to drink. I’m fine.” She waited until the woman seated herself in the recliner before approaching the subject of her visit.

  “Mrs. Gerhardt,” she started, “I assume you’re aware that Lucy has an uncle, living in San Antonio?”

  Mrs. Gerhardt nodded. “Yes, I am.”

  “Is there any reason . . .?” Layne paused to restructure her question. “Please, this is not in any way an accusation, but is there any reason why you have not contacted the uncle concerning the child?”

  Molly shook her head. “No, I just didn’t know I had to. Why do you ask?”

  It was an innocent reply, and Layne had little reason not to believe her. “The uncle, Mr. Erik Rivers, is considering going to court to obtain full custody of Lucy.”

  “Oh my.” Mrs. Gerhardt gasped, visibly shocked and upset. “Can he do that? Why would he do that? Lucy’s happy here.”

  Layne explained the reasons why Erik had not pursued custody sooner, but now was settled into his life and felt ready to assume responsibility for the child. She could easily see that the grandmother was upset and obviously did not know what to do. “The reason I’m here today,” she said, “is to let you know th
at I’ve been retained to defend you and your rights for custody of Lucy.”

  “You’re here for me?” she replied incredulously. “But I have no way to pay for your services. Even now I can’t make ends meet. Lucy is growing so fast, she needs new clothes all the time, and I’ve been told the rent will go up again in two months. I don’t know what to do or which way to turn.” The tears started to flow freely now, as she tried to wipe them away with the back of her hand.

  “That has been taken care of, Mrs. Gerhardt. You have no concern about my fee.” Layne rose from her seat and walked over to take Molly’s hand. “Please don’t worry, things will be okay.”

  “But someone has to pay for this, don’t they?” Molly asked, looking up at Layne.

  “It’s been taken care of. It’s my job to see that Lucy stays with you.”

  The old lady looked around the room, with its decrepit furnishings. Fresh tears filled her eyes. “Its true,” she managed, “the house is old, I’m old, and there’s not much I can offer Lucy except unconditional love.”

  “There is financial help available.”

  “We get food stamps, but they don’t go far, and sometimes I wonder if I’m supplying Lucy with the proper nutrition.” She paused for a moment, looking at Layne. “You said the payment has been taken care of?”

  Layne nodded. “Yes.”

  Molly didn’t understand. “By whom? Shouldn’t I know who is paying you? Is it someone I know? How can I ever thank them if I don’t know?”

  Layne saw little reason not to disclose Molly’s benefactor. She gave a quiet laugh and returned to her chair. “Well,” she started, “apparently Mr. Rivers had a girlfriend, and she didn’t want the child in the home after they were married.”

  “I’m not sure I understand,” Molly replied. “Did Mr. Rivers want Lucy, but the lady did not?”

  “Yes, that’s part of it. Mr. Rivers wants the child, but didn’t know the girlfriend did not want her. She was keeping it a secret from him, and paid me to make sure he did not get her.”

  A puzzled look crossed Molly’s face. “Do you mean Mr. Rivers had a girlfriend? She’s not the girlfriend anymore?”

  Layne’s thoughts returned to Erik. What had happened to end Erik and Joyce’s relationship? She wondered where she would be in his life if . . . Stop it! That’s over and done with! “No, she’s not the girlfriend anymore,” Layne finally said, clearing her mind of the memory of Joyce’s arm around Erik at the barbecue, “and now she’s paying my fee out of spite.”

  “Why are you doing this for her?”

  “I’m doing this for you, Mrs. Gerhardt. The woman paid my fee, and I’m legally bound to represent you, but not only that, I want to represent you.” Surprised, Layne realized she meant it. This poor woman sacrificed to raise her granddaughter. Should she lose Lucy simply because she didn’t have the money and Erik did? But he would be disappointed too. Both had a legal right to custody of the child. Who loved her the most? Obviously Erik could give Lucy more—in fact almost everything and anything she could ever want or need. But on the other side of the coin, Molly filled Lucy’s life with love and joy. A judge would have to make the decision, but Layne vowed to do everything in her power to protect Molly’s rights.

  The day passed quickly, and Layne’s heart ached for Molly as she learned about her situation. She was in her early eighties, with slowly failing health, and finding it increasingly difficult to keep up with the energetic six-year-old. Her Social Security income was fixed, her rent was scheduled to increase, and inflation was eating away at what little she had. As much as Layne wanted to help Molly keep Lucy, she was slowly beginning to realize that the girl was also becoming a burden. But love for a child trumps all else, and although it appeared that Erik could present quite a case for awarding the custody to him, she’d fight to keep the custody for Molly.

  As the day wore on, Molly invited Layne to stay long enough to meet Lucy, and right on schedule, at 3:45 the school bus stopped in front of the house. Lucy skipped her way up the steps to the porch, then pulled the screen door open and run straight into Molly’s waiting arms for a huge hug.

  It quickly became apparent that the love they had for one another was very real. With hands clasped, Molly and Lucy did a little jig until the girl noticed Layne.

  “Hi,” she said, stopping in the middle of the room.

  “Hi,” Layne replied, going to the child and offering her hand. “I’m Layne.”

  “Hi, Layne,” Lucy said, vigorously shaking her hand. “I’m Lucy.”

  “You should call the lady Miss Martin, honey,” Molly admonished. “That’s what children do to adults.”

  “Oh please, Mrs. Gerhardt, let her call me Layne. Please? I would really like that.”

  Molly smiled, giving in. “Fine,” she said, “if that’s what you want.”

  The three of them chatted until it was time for Layne to go. As she was gathering her things together, Lucy ran to her and gave her a big bear hug.

  “Do you have to go?” she asked. “Can’t you stay longer?”

  “I’ll be back,” Layne told her, returning the hug. “We’ll see each other again, I promise!”

  That seemed to satisfy her as she accompanied Layne to the door and out onto the porch.

  “Are you going back to where you live?” Lucy asked with her child’s innocence.

  Layne nodded. “Yup, back to San Antonio, where I live.”

  “Is it pretty there?”

  “Very pretty,” Layne replied. “I even have a horse of my very own.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized that was probably no longer the case. There was little reason for Erik not to take back his gift. Again, thoughts of him washed through her mind until she angrily brushed them away.

  “You have a horse of your very own?”

  “Yes.” Layne nodded. “My very own.”

  “Someday, when I’m big enough, I’m going to marry a cowboy,” Lucy said.

  “Really? Why are you going to marry a cowboy?”

  “’Cause I want my very own horse too.”

  This little girl had her mind made up already, Layne thought, and she hoped her dreams would come true.

  “We have to let Miss . . . Layne go,” Molly said to Lucy, correcting herself as she checked her watch, “if she wants to get back home tonight. It’s dangerous to drive at night, with the deer and elk that cross the roads.”

  Layne agreed it was time to go. She dug into her purse and retrieved a business card. “Mrs. Gerhardt. . .”

  “Molly,” she interrupted with a soft smile. “If Lucy can call you Layne, you have to call me Molly.”

  “Okay. Molly,” she started again, handing the business card to her, “this is my number. Promise you’ll call immediately if you hear anything concerning your granddaughter.”

  “I will,” Molly replied, reading the card, “I promise.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Layne’s long drive back to San Antonio proved uneventful, other than having to slow for Molly’s warning of deer and elk grazing at the side of the highway. Her mind was invaded with countless scenarios as how to approach the situation, should Erik Rivers start legal proceedings. It would certainly be a face-to-face confrontation. There’d be no getting out of that, but the real legal skirmish would be with the attorney representing him.

  One way to prepare herself, Layne reasoned, would be to investigate the lawyer who approached her at the barbecue and bragged about the possibly of representing Rivers. Did he have a strong courtroom presence? Could his argument convince the judge, rather than hers? Or, she reasoned again, was there a possibility of approaching Rivers himself, with the chance of easing his demands? Maybe he’d realize he’d be too busy with the ranch to properly care for the child. So many questions, so few answers, but whatever they were, it all b
oiled down to deciding what was in the best interests of the child, nothing else.

  Layne pulled into the apartment parking lot well after midnight. She was bone-weary and ready to crash. She held the car door handle and was about to open it when she remembered she had her suitcase on the back seat. She reached back and retrieved it, realizing she actually hadn’t needed it. Her visit was short and sweet.

  As she entered the apartment, she saw a note placed on the coffee table. It was from Barb, saying she was out on a date and possibly wasn’t coming home that night. And, Erik Rivers called. Three times. He’d stopped calling altogether at least a week ago, so this was a surprise.

  Layne decided that she was just too tired to deal with this now, maybe she could make a decision after a good night’s sleep. She tossed the note back on the table and padded into her bedroom.

  ~ ~ ~

  Layne slept like the proverbial log, and was totally refreshed the next morning. She re-read Barb’s note concerning Rivers, and decided against returning a call. Although she continued to refuse his calls, her anger and emptiness had mostly dissipated and she was well on her way to recovery. She’d stopped working out at the Wellness Center for fear of running into him, but came to realize it would not matter anymore. Barb had continued her weekday morning workouts, and made no mention of seeing him.

  She peeked into Barb’s bedroom and saw the made-up bed. That meant that either she’d already left for the gym or hadn’t returned home last night. If Layne was a betting girl, she’d put her money on the fact that Barb stayed the night with the cowboy she’d met at the barbecue. He’d been a growing interest in her life and Barb was spending more and more time with him, causing Layne to vaguely wonder how difficult it may be to find another roommate, should things come to that.

  ~ ~ ~

  Layne spent the next couple of days at her computer, refreshing her mind about child custody court procedure. She also searched for any background information on Jeffrey Baylor, but there was little if anything of value. She realized this could possibly be an exercise in futility, but if Erik Rivers did pursue custody of Lucy, she’d be ready.