by Naomi Niles
"I know. You have every right to be mad at me for the way I treated you. I should have communicated better," he said with genuine humility.
"I should have let you know every day how much I love you and made sure you knew how important you are to me. I was busy, I had a lot going on with the ranch, but I should have talked to you and let you know why I was so busy, so you wouldn't think it was because I didn't care."
"Nice try, but that's not the reason I hate you," I said to him. "Yes, you hurt my feelings by ignoring me, but you crossed a line when you burned my paintings in that barn fire. I can never forgive you for that."
"That wasn't me," he said. I listened as he told me everything he knew about the investigation, how he'd found a lighter belonging to one of the employees, and how it might be the same person who's been stealing their cattle.
"So, when we find the man who owns the lighter, William will arrest him for arson and destruction of property. It won't get your paintings back, but at least it will be justice for the crime."
"I can't believe I blamed you." I felt terrible for the way I'd treated him. "Can you forgive me?"
"Only if you agree to stay," he teased.
"I'll stay till the end of the week. I promised your mother I'd stay here and create five paintings for her, and it doesn't feel right skipping out on her early and leaving her with nothing but some sketches."
"That's good. I'm glad you're staying; but I don't mean until the end of the job – I mean forever."
"What are you saying?" My heart skipped in my chest. Was he saying what I thought he was saying? If so, it was the answer to my dreams, but that didn't mean it could become a reality.
"Stay with me, Bethany, here on the ranch. I love you, and I don't want to ever lose you."
His offer was everything I'd ever wanted since the moment I'd first laid eyes on him just one short month ago. I thought about it carefully, but the answer was obvious.
I couldn't just live on the ranch without paying rent. I hadn’t work as hard as I had to earn an art degree just to leach off the Hutchinsons and not have a career.
Gazing into Colton's mesmerizing eyes, I said sadly, "I can't. There's no work for me out here. The only way I can stay here is if I can find a way to support myself with the art career I've worked so hard to achieve."
"Well then, that's what we're going to do." He pulled me to his chest and held me tight, as if the strength of his arms could keep us together. Still, he vowed to help me with such conviction, I believed that if there were any way to get me a job out here as an artist, he would find it. And I really hoped he could.
Chapter Twenty-four: Colton
"I'm sorry, Mr. Hutchinson, but your policy does not cover damage caused by acts of arson," Mallory Meecham said to me. The insurance agent was sitting with her legs crossed in the chair across from my desk, with her red hair pulled back into a painfully tight bun and her white blouse starched and pressed to perfection.
"The policy covers both fire and vandalism. How the hell can it not cover fire by vandalism?" I was having a hard time not letting my frustration show as my hands balled into fists on top of my desk.
"Arson is an intentional act purposefully committed to cause damage. To commit arson and then make a claim against your policy is an illegal act of fraud," she said, clearly accusing me with her words. "We will not pay until the criminal investigation is complete."
"You think I started that fire?" I was mad as hell and it showed.
"You or a member of your family."
Forcing myself to keep my composure, I took a deep breath and carefully measured the tone of my voice. "No one in my family started that fire. Read the report. It clearly states that they found a lighter, which was most likely used to start the fire."
"So, you or one of your family members used a lighter," Mallory retorted.
I'd never hit a woman in my life, but for her, I would have been willing to make an exception. Still, that wouldn't help my case, so I willed my fists to unclench and took several deep breaths before speaking.
"The lighter belongs to an employee of the ranch. He started the fire, and is most likely the man responsible for cattle being stolen from the ranch."
"Yes, I see you have filed a report with the sheriff's office claiming that a significant number of cattle have been stolen, resulting in a deficit this quarter."
"That's correct."
"That's why we suspect that someone in your family deliberately started that fire."
"Why would we do that when we already have enough problems?"
"Some policy holders mistakenly think that cashing in on their policies will solve their problems. Your ranch is in debt, so all you have to do is burn down enough of your property and we'll cut you a check big enough to pay off your debt. Well, sorry, Mr. Hutchinson, but we refuse to pay for fraud."
"This is outrageous! Burning down that barn isn't worth much. I just want to be compensated for the value of the hay and equipment that was inside."
"As well as a collection of art?"
"Yes."
"An odd place to keep art. What other items can we pretend were stored in the barn? Maybe we can bring the cost up enough to not only pay off your debt, but net a profit." Her sarcasm was getting to be too much, and I feared I just might hit her after all.
I crossed my arms in front of my chest, and Mallory focused in on the bandages covering my burns.
With a snarky attitude, she said, "People often get injured when started fires like the one you caused. Let that be a lesson to you, Mr. Hutchinson."
"I didn't start that fire. Read the damn report from the fire marshal. He doesn't have any reason to lie for us. You should accept his word as truth, and he says he found the lighter that started it all."
"A lighter you claim belongs to an employee?"
"Yes."
"So, you expect me to believe that an employee tried to burn down the place where he gets his paycheck? Why would anyone do that?"
"I don't know."
"And, why hasn't that employee been arrested for arson?"
"I don't know which one it is."
"Well, then who's to say the lighter isn't yours?"
"It belongs to an employee. I can't remember which one, but when I do, I'm going to call the sheriff's office and have him arrested. Then you'll have your damn police report."
"Good. That's when I'll pay on your policy, Mr. Hutchinson, and not before. Until then, I'm putting everything on hold pending the outcome of the criminal investigation. We do not look kindly on fraud, Mr. Hutchinson."
My blood raged in my veins as I opened my office door for her and watched her exit. I slammed the door shut behind her, knocking my lucky horseshoe off the wall.
"That's about right." I sighed as I picked up the horseshoe and held it in my hands. It seemed like my luck had run out. The ranch was deeply in debt, and the hope I'd had for a profitable season had been washed away by the continued theft of my cattle.
Mallory Meecham had been right about one thing: I had been counting on using the check from my insurance claim from the barn fire to pay off our debts. She was completely wrong in suspecting I had committed the arson, but until I could figure out who owned that lighter, there was no one else to blame.
The one bright point in my life right now was that Bethany had agreed to stay till the end of the week.
Every day, she sat with her easel and her paints out by our special apple tree by the river. Brett chaperoned to make sure she was safe, and every evening, we went out together, just the two of us, to the lake where we ate, and talked, and laughed, and made love.
It was the perfect summer, and it was about to come to an end. Bethany had basically completed the piece she was working on: the fifth and final painting Mama had commissioned. Now, it was time for her to leave.
I had asked her to stay with me here on the ranch, and I understood why she had to say no. Bethany Foster was independent, proud, and fiercely capable. She had basically raised
herself under the care of a resentful mother, gotten herself into college, and had the fortitude to find her father. She'd come all the way out here to the country from Chicago, where she managed to win over the hearts of my entire family.
Her courageous independence was what I loved most about her, and I couldn't ask her to change who she was just to stay here on the ranch for my own selfish desires. Bethany deserved to have the career she had worked so hard to achieve; I just wished she could have that and still stay with me here on the ranch, where I always dreamed of having a wife and children in the home I loved.
Of course, the way things were going, there might not be a ranch to call home much longer. The mortgage payment was coming up and there was no way to make it, the taxes were overdue, and we still had all the expenses of maintaining the cattle.
I'd been over the numbers a dozen times, and there was no way to make them match up, even if I made drastic cuts. The bank where'd I'd gotten a loan wouldn't increase my line of credit, and the only way to get by was to start selling some things.
I’d talked to Mama about it. We could sell some acres of our grazing land, but that would cut back on the amount of cattle we could support, which would cut back on the income we could get from selling the beef. We could start selling the equipment, but then we would spend money renting them when we needed them. It was all a brutal circle that wound down to inevitably selling the ranch.
"You might as well just sell the whole ranch right from the start, rather than chipping away at it bit by bit," Mama had said to me.
"You can't mean that," I’d replied. "Grandpa built this place. Dad brought you here the day you got married, and we all grew up here. This is the Hutchinson Ranch, run by Hutchinsons for three generations."
"What's it gonna be when we sell off some of our acres, then sell off some of our equipment, and watch the place bleed to death slowly? It's excruciating, and I can't stand it. I'd rather just get it over with in one blow, like ripping off a Band-Aid."
"Mama, I didn't know it hurt you so much."
"Of course, it does. So, don't drag it out. Just sell the place."
It wasn't like her to give up so easily, but father's death two years ago had a terrible effect on her. Not having found his killer weighed heavily on all of us, but especially his wife. The anniversary of his death was coming up, and with it all the pain became as fresh as the day it had happened. Not having found justice for his death just made it worse.
Losing the ranch was just another death, and it was no wonder that Mama couldn't deal with it right now and just wanted the whole thing to be over. As much as I didn't want to, I decided that I should honor her wishes.
With a heavy heart, I picked up the phone and dialed the number for Riverbend Realty. The agent arrived at my office in less than twenty minutes looking eager and excited. His sandy-blond hair was perfectly styled, but his suit was cheap and his tie was glaringly bright.
"Harvey Hartman. Glad to meet you," he introduced himself as he shook my hand a little too aggressively.
"I know who you are, Harvey," I sighed. "We went to school together."
"I know that, Colton; but the seminar I went to said to always introduce yourself to the client."
"I'm not a client yet. I'm not sure I really want to sell this place, but I might as well find out as much as I can about it before I decide what to do."
It was a long and difficult day as I listened to my old high school buddy explain to me everything I needed to know about selling a property as large and complex as Hutchinson Ranch. There was big money to be made – enough to get us out of debt and still leave enough for Mama and each of my brothers to settle down someplace.
It made me wonder where we would all go if we didn't have the ranch. I knew each of my brothers would be all right. William had his job as sheriff and would need to find a place to live in Riverbend. Tom could get a job teaching at any school. Travis and Brett would land on their feet somewhere, and Mama would be welcome to live with any of us.
I guess what was bothering me most was what would I do without the ranch?
I'd spent my entire life on the Hutchinson Ranch. Mama said I was born on the kitchen table. Hell, even when I went away to get my business degree, it was with the knowledge that I would come back home and use it to run the ranch. I never once thought about using it to get a job someplace else.
Now it was time that I did. After all, I did have a degree in business from a respected university. I was smart, talented, and willing to work hard. I could apply for jobs anywhere in the country and I was sure to get something. The question was, where would I go?
The answer was easy: Chicago. Bethany wasn't able to stay here with me, but why couldn't I go with her to the city? I loved her and she loved me. It didn't matter where we lived, as long as we were together.
Chapter Twenty-five: Bethany
"Thanks for helping me carry all this back to the house." I gave Brett a sisterly kiss on the cheek after he set down my final masterpiece in the living room of the house.
"It's funny, but I'm actually going to miss lugging this heavy easel and all your painting supplies back and forth around this ranch," he joked, but there was sentiment shining in his eyes.
"And, I'm going to miss your shameless flirting," I teased him back.
"I know I don't have a real chance with you. You and Colton are meant to be together. That's why I know you're safe to practice my game with. I just hope one day I'll find the kind of love that you two share."
"I'm sure you will," I said. Then thinking of Emma, I added, "Maybe you already have and just aren't ready to admit it."
"Now that you're done, when are you leaving?" Brett swiftly changed the subject.
"The sooner the better, I guess." I sighed. "I need to pack my things. I want to present this to your mother and say goodbye to her and your brothers. I need to say goodbye to my father, and I want to have one last visit with him."
"I'm sure you want to spend a last evening with Colton," Brett said. "Probably leave in the morning.
"No. Not really. It will be too hard to say goodbye to him. Maybe I should just leave tonight after everyone comes in for dinner. I can give the painting to your mother, say my goodbyes all at once, and then leave with as little tears as possible."
"If that's what you think is best." He sounded doubtful.
"It is." I was firm. He tipped his hat and left, and so I went upstairs to my room for the last time to pack my things.
The first time I had packed to leave had been in a fit of anger, and I'd just thrown everything in my suitcase without thinking. This time around, the process was much more bittersweet. Every item I folded and placed carefully into my luggage came with a memory.
This was the shirt I'd worn when Colton first took me to the lake and we'd gone skinny dipping. These were the jeans I'd worn the day I told Frank he was my father.
When all my clothes were put away, it was time to start packing my personal belongings, like my toiletries and my art supplies. When everything was done, I gave the room one last look to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything. It was a good thing I had, because my sketchbook had fallen underneath the bed.
I picked it up and began to flip through the pages one by one. It was like taking a trip through time, to my first days on the ranch six weeks ago. There were sketches of the ranch from nearly every angle and vantage point.
There was a doodle of Maggie napping on the porch. There was one of Margie working in her garden and another of her baking in the kitchen. There was one I particularly liked of Colton brushing Whiskey's mane. I found one of Travis bucking hay, and one of Brett in his bull riding gear. Everything that was precious about the ranch was portrayed in that sketchbook.
Suddenly, I knew what I had to do. I would give these sketches to Margie to replace the paintings she'd paid for that had been destroyed. She told me since it wasn't my fault they'd been burnt in the fire, I didn’t need to replace them, but I didn't feel right not giving he
r anything for her money. If I'd had the time to repaint them, I would have, but my internship started in just a week, and there wasn't any time. These sketches were the perfect solution.
I went through the book carefully and selected the ones I thought she'd like the best. I paused when I came to a drawing I'd made of my father. I remembered the moment exactly: Frank had been sitting on a bale of hay, staring thoughtfully out at the horizon. He took his pouch of tobacco out of his pocket and carefully hand rolled a cigarette like his father had taught him to do, my grandfather. Then he placed it between his teeth, flicked his lighter, and brought the flame up to the tip of his cigarette.
My sketch had captured the moment perfectly, from the graying hairs on his hirsute jaw to the unique etching of a bird on his father's lighter.
Spontaneously, I pulled my favorite charcoal pencil out of my case and scrawled my signature on the corner of the sketch, along with the date and the words, To Dad, Love Bethany. Then I jogged across the grounds of the ranch. I had to give it to him as a goodbye present.
No one knew where I had gone, but it didn't matter I wouldn't be long. The sun was starting to get low in the horizon, and soon the Hutchinsons would be gathering around the table and I would have my last dinner with them.
I saw Frank leaving the equipment shed and waved to him.
"Can we talk?" I asked him.
"Sure." He put his arm around me. Then he saw the drawing in my hand and pointed at it. "What's that?"
"It's for you. I wanted to give it to you before I left. I'm starting the long drive home to Chicago tonight after dinner."
"This is really good. Have you shown it to anyone else?"
"No, I keep my drawings private, but I wanted to share this one with you. I'm really going to miss you, Dad. I'm glad we got to know one another."
"I'm glad, too. Come back to my cabin with me for a moment."
"I don't really have time. The Hutchinsons are about to sit down to eat, and I don't want to be late on our last night together."
"This will just take a minute." He tightened his grip around my shoulder and pushed me towards the row of cabins across the grounds.
