The audience shifted in its seats, filling the courtroom with wood-straining creaks.
Ben was telling the truth? Rachel sat back in her chair.
“Is there record of this?” Judge Edwards scribbled something on her notepad.
“No,” Ben said. “But I believe it to be real, because there is no second piece of paper canceling the transaction or trading it back. That said, there’s a history in this valley of ranchers trading breeding rights back and forth like gift cards at Christmas. And, for what it’s worth, Seth Thompson may not have had time to document a trade back. He died a few weeks after he signed this.”
Ben’s brothers exchanged whispers, but they didn’t look surprised or displeased that Ben was setting the record straight.
“Where did you find this document?” The judge gave it to the court clerk, who examined it, logged it in and passed it to Rachel.
“In a family safe rarely opened, Your Honor.”
“Again, Mr. Blackwell—” the judge leaned forward on her elbows “—you are doing your cause no favors by bringing this forward.”
“I want the truth to be told.” His gaze, filled with remorse and determination, caught on Rachel, before returning to the judge. “And if truth be told, the Blackwells and the Thompsons have been exchanging their cattle studs and sharing water for decades, if not generations. Possibly going back as far as 1919.”
“I thought he was supposed to be a good lawyer,” Nana said.
“Order,” Judge Edwards warned with a pound of her gavel. “If the public cannot be quiet, they will be removed.”
Rachel turned to her grandmother and held a finger to her lips. The peanut gallery didn’t look like they were going to be silent observers. Nana shrugged. Poppy grinned. Zoe was smirking. Katie looked worried, and Ethan and Jon exchanged more whispers.
Ignoring them all, Ben stood in the middle of the courtroom and spoke directly to the judge. “The land involved in this trade is more commonly referred to by both parties as the road to the river.”
He stood without defense of his silver briefcase. He stood on the merits of an argument alone. His shoulders were back and his voice rang with confidence.
“The road to the river is currently used almost exclusively by the Blackwell Ranch via a gate. From this Blackwell gate to the river—” he held up his hands to indicate a distance from Point A to Point B “—the road is just dirt. Nothing much grows, because it is well used. Now, from the Blackwell gate to the gate leading to the Double T property—” he shifted his hands to the left “—there are weeds blanketing the road, indicating the property is used infrequently, if at all.”
“Objection.” Rachel stood. “The Double T does use that road. I use that road.”
“One person, Your Honor,” Ben said without turning.
“Is there an easement in existence?” The judge glanced up to include Rachel in the question. “In either party’s possession?”
“No, Your Honor,” Rachel and Ben said in unison.
“Overruled, Miss Thompson.”
Rachel sat down hard, her knees weak with defeat. She knew where this was going. There were laws about property ownership versus possession by use, and it appeared the Blackwells could establish the Double T didn’t use the road over the aquifer.
Ben walked toward the empty jury box, as if it was filled. “Let’s assume that the bull-for-land trade in 1919 occurred, despite it not being recorded with the county. In that scenario, the land would belong to the Double T. But tax receipts show that the Blackwells have been paying taxes on that land for decades.” Ben turned and captured Rachel’s gaze. “A fact that establishes ownership recognized by both parties.”
“Which brings us back to the original claim that brought us here today,” Judge Edwards snapped. “Get to the point, counselor.”
Ben nodded. “I move the Double T be given back their first position river water rights, plus ten percent.”
Everything Rachel was asking for.
“And what’s to stop the Double T from suing the Blackwells for the land over the aquifer?” The judge had a shrewd look on her face, almost as if she’d known this was where Ben was going all along.
“The Blackwell Ranch will be filing claims regarding the strip of land commonly referred to as the road to the river, Your Honor. We’ll be claiming Easement by Implication, Easement by Prescription, Adverse Possession and Quiet Title.”
Rachel’s head pounded. “Objection,” she said, because the situation seemed to call for some reaction. She stood and glared at Ben. Somehow, he’d managed to hijack her case, the same way he’d done in Nelly’s divorce proceedings. He’d given her the outcome she wanted, and yet Rachel felt it was an outcome she hadn’t deserved.
“What grounds?” The judge stared down at Rachel as if she’d jumped the gun.
Think, Rachel, think.
“The Blackwells asked for an easement three years ago, one that cut across Double T land to a swimming hole higher upriver.” In fact, it had been Zoe who’d asked, right after Big E agreed to build the guesthouse.
The judge’s eyes narrowed. “And did the Double T agree to the easement?”
“No,” Rachel said through stiff lips. Her father had denied it for the very reasons Ben was using to establish Blackwell ownership—use of the property.
“Overruled.”
Ben wasn’t smiling. He should have been smiling. He’d tap danced circles around Rachel, controlling everything. “There is no formal easement, no contract, no paperwork granting or protesting the Blackwell Ranch’s use of the property.” But his words came out almost like an apology.
He’s always apologizing. Because he cares about the people court cases affect.
Ben was staring at Rachel with equal measures of love and sadness in his eyes.
A cold, numb feeling spread from Rachel’s toes to her hands. Ben cares. He loves. He loves me.
He loved her enough to give her this case, when he could have found some other argument to keep the Double T in second position. He wasn’t cold and calculating. He was careful and kind.
And she was losing him. She was losing him the moment Judge Edwards struck her gavel.
“You know what this means, counselor?” The judge was looking at Rachel with concern. After all, Rachel should be happy. “Miss Thompson?” she asked when Rachel didn’t respond.
She nodded her head miserably. She knew. She’d won. And Ben would be leaving town.
“The court rules in favor of the Double T. The water positions will be reverted, with the Double T in first position plus an additional ten percent.” Judge Edwards pounded her gavel.
Rachel jumped.
The audience erupted behind them. Well, mostly Rachel’s family hooted and clapped.
Rachel gathered her files and stuffed them into her briefcase, snapping it shut. She told her family and Zoe she’d see them outside. Jon and Ethan filed out with the rest of the spectators. The court staff exited to the back.
Rachel and Ben were the only ones left in the courtroom.
“I hate you,” she said, because she did. She hated that he was such a good lawyer, that he handled the courtroom as if he’d been born here and that he’d willingly given her what she wanted in this case, only to refuse her what her heart wanted.
“I’m sorry.” Ben stood between their tables, holding the courtroom gate open for her.
“You’re not sorry. You won.” She pushed past Ben and hurried down the aisle, wanting to turn and cling to him. “You won because even though I got what I wanted, you looked like you were doing me a favor.”
“I was only trying to help.”
“I have to learn to do things on my own.” She reached the door and rushed into the hallway.
The middle-aged man Ben had pointed out last week stood a few feet away checking his cell phone. His b
lack leather shoes were just as nice as Ben’s. He caught Rachel staring and smiled, stepping into her path.
Rachel dropped her gaze and mumbled, “Excuse me,” as she maneuvered past him.
“Just a minute, Miss Thompson.” The older man touched her arm.
Rachel’s gaze flew to his. “How did you know—”
“Jack Daniels.” Ben’s voice was sharper than the barbed wire he’d used to fix the fence. “I did a search on you after I noticed your interest in our case.”
Of course, Ben had researched the man, not that it had done them any good.
“It’s Danby. Jack Danby.” The middle-aged man’s smile turned brittle as he held a sheaf of papers toward each of them. “I’m here representing the Falcon County Water Company. We’re serving the Double T and Blackwell Ranch notice. Based on growth in the county, we’re going to be annexing land along Falcon Creek, and we’ll be needing some of your river water rights.”
A shaft of dread speared through Rachel. Ben was leaving. She’d have to face this case alone.
Ben put his arm in front of Rachel. “Don’t accept anything from this hired gun.”
“You know how this goes, Blackwell.” Jack tsked. “You’re being served. Don’t make a scene.”
Ben scowled and took both sets of papers, Rachel’s and his.
“Not so fast.” Representative Chris Hannigan stepped into the circle of conversation with a booming voice and a belt buckle that proclaimed him a rodeo champion. He’d been sitting at the back of the courtroom. Rachel was grateful he’d had the time to fulfill her request to attend. He introduced himself to Ben and the water company’s lawyer.
“And I’m Lilith Adams, state water board.” A middle-aged woman wearing a checked pantsuit elbowed her way into the crowd. She extended her hand to Ben and then Jack. “We were alerted by Miss Thompson about potential practices we don’t approve of.”
“Such as bullying local businesses out of their rightful water,” Chris said.
Ben was scanning the legal claim Jack had handed him. Their families waited farther down the corridor.
“You might want to rethink filing any claims on that water, unless your client wants to come under review.” Lilith arched a slender, expertly lined brow.
“I’m making agriculture a priority in this state.” Chris puffed out his chest. “Farmers and ranchers need water to create jobs and feed America.”
That sounded like a campaign slogan.
Rachel didn’t care, as long as the politician was on her side. She plucked the briefs from Ben’s hands and thrust them toward Jack. “I’m going to assume your client wants to rethink filing suit against us.”
Jack Danby, Esquire, was left standing in the hallway as the Thompsons and the Blackwells exited the courthouse.
“You brought in your state representatives?” Ben grabbed Rachel’s arm and led her away. “That was brilliant.”
Fair praise from Ben Blackwell. She stopped on the courthouse steps and stared at him one last time.
“You’re going to be all right, Rachel Thompson.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And don’t you forget it.”
She wouldn’t.
Nor would she forget Ben and a love that was strong in an alternate universe.
* * *
KATIE WAS ALREADY pulling away when Ben caught up to Ethan and Jon in the parking lot.
“That was quite the show you put on.” Ethan looked on Ben with pride, and then he gave him a hearty hug. “I’m glad you’re on our side.”
“I’m on the side of justice, brother,” Ben murmured as he stepped out of his brother’s embrace. “Truth and justice.” He planned on representing people impacted by public utility accidents.
And then it was Jon’s turn to hug him. “That might have been the best step toward peace between the Thompsons and the Blackwells anyone’s made in years.”
This felt like goodbye. Theirs anyway.
Ben wasn’t ready. Not yet. Something was holding him back, as powerful a feeling as the emotions that had sent him running five years ago.
“Big E won’t be happy with the case,” Ben pointed out. “And less water makes the property less attractive for sale.”
“Big E deserves what he gets,” Jon said firmly. “Let him retire to Florida with his next wife and his share of the ranch.”
“You haven’t got enough votes to sell yet.” It was Ethan’s turn to scowl. “And who knows? I might convince you to keep the ranch.”
“In an alternative universe,” Ben murmured, thinking about Rachel.
“It could happen,” Ethan insisted.
Jon smirked, settling his cowboy hat firmly on his head. “More likely you’ll come around to my way of thinking and want to sell. You always were trouble.”
Ethan’s lips pulled in a mulish line. “Only because Ben put me up to it. He learned how to manipulate the court system by manipulating me.”
“Don’t blame me for you being gullible.” Ben laughed, although the sound lacked humor.
“You’re both at fault,” Jon said. “I am so glad I had girls.”
“Don’t kid yourself,” Ethan said. “Those girls excel at finding trouble.”
The three men laughed, but when the laughter ended, Ben felt awkward again.
“So, this is it?” Jon laid a hand on Ben’s shoulder. “You’re going back to New York?”
Rachel drove off in her truck without so much as a honk or a wave goodbye.
Ben’s chest felt hollow. “There’s nothing to keep me here.”
“Is that the truth?” Jon asked, backing toward his truck. He waved a hand toward Rachel’s tailgate. “Or when you look back on this, will you have regrets?”
“Don’t listen to him,” Ethan chimed in. “He’s concerned that the guest ranch will fail and when we sell, it’ll be worth considerably less. He’s going to call Tyler, because he works in marketing.”
“Ty will never come back,” Ben countered. “He blames himself for Mom and Dad’s accident.”
Rachel’s tailgate was fast disappearing, leaving Ben to wonder...
Was Jon right? Would he have regrets?
CHAPTER TWENTY
UP AT DAWN, Ben took Blackie out for one more ride on Saturday morning.
He’d picked up his mother’s repaired bridle from Brewster’s Friday afternoon and put it on the stallion for their last ride.
They’d warmed up with a trot around the southern pasture, empty of stock. They’d galloped across the newly constructed bridge to the summer pastures, where they’d paused and watched the herd grazing. And finally, almost reluctantly, Ben headed Blackie toward the road to the river for a final goodbye.
Rachel sat on the viewing platform. She stared at the sun-tipped Rockies with her feet dangling over the edge of the platform.
Her big-boned strawberry roan was tied to a fence post. Ferdinand grazed near the trees lining the river, but he wasn’t alone. A familiar white-faced heifer grazed a few feet from him.
Ben hopped off Blackie and looped his reins around a fence post near Rachel’s horse. “Isn’t that your heifer?”
“I have a theory.” Rachel turned to face Ben, her expression unreadable. “I think Marigold fell in love with Ferdinand, and that’s why she’s not staying up-country.”
Ben walked onto the wooden viewing platform. “Why do I feel like this has something to do with an alternate universe?”
She stared up at him, not yet granting him a smile. “It’s a little Capulet and Montague.”
“Romeo and Juliet.” He sat on the edge of the deck and stared down at the shallow water gurgling over smooth river rock. “Ferdinand and Marigold. And you’re not upset.”
Her fingers twisted in her lap. “Turns out, Double T heifers have been producing fewer calves over the past three years. I need to infuse
some new blood and our records show some of our bulls have been crossbred from Blackwell Black Angus stock.”
“You know, in some circles, using a bull for stud without permission might be considered stealing.” But he hoped the pairing resulted in a large white-faced bull.
“Hey.” Her fingers curled so tight, her knuckles popped. “That’d be just like using your neighbor’s road more than they do means you can take possession of it, and the water beneath it.”
“Touché.” He laid a hand over hers, not liking that she was worried.
Rachel stared at their hands for a moment before continuing. “Besides, it’s not stealing if a Blackwell sits by and lets nature take its course.”
“Successful ranchers make bold moves.” Ben grinned. “See? I told you you’d be all right.”
“There’s something I need to know.” She half turned to face him, her golden hair catching the light. “When we were married and living in New York, did we have an apartment overlooking Central Park?”
Ben nodded. “Only the best for you.”
“Did we go to museums and the theater?”
“We were charter members.” He’d write checks to support the arts upon his return to New York and credit the donations in her name.
“It sounds heavenly.” She leaned against his shoulder.
Ben curled his arm around her, bringing her close. Sitting there together, watching the sunrise, it felt natural, as if they’d been married for years.
“Do you know what I think?” Rachel glanced up at him.
“No,” Ben said in a voice strangled with longing.
“I think you should give that alternative universe a try.” She laid her head back on his shoulder. “I think you should retire to Falcon Creek, find yourself a good woman and have a couple of kids.”
“Thompson?” He drew back from her. “What are you saying?”
The Rancher's Redemption Page 22
