by Lucie Ulrich
“People who cared for her? What people? Other than you, me, Reverend Thompson, and a few of Mom’s old drinking buddies, nobody else showed up at her funeral. When your grandfather was buried a month later, there wasn’t enough room in the church to hold everybody.”
“That’s because Sam had a way of fooling people into thinking he was this great guy. Truth was he cared more about his cattle than his family.” His voice tightened. “He had both Gran and Dad under his thumb, just where he liked them. Shoot, the man made his grandsons call him by his first name.” He shook his head and blew out a breath. “It was like he didn’t want to acknowledge the relationship.”
“You know.” Sky leaned against the door. “It’s amazing we aren’t more screwed up.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“I’d rather not.”
They locked eyes. He winked. “Neither would I.”
Within seconds he pulled onto the road again. “So, you planning on working at the diner much longer?”
Sky glared at him. “There’s nothing wrong with how I make my living. We can’t all own cattle ranches, you know.”
“Whoa!” Micah held up a hand. “It was just a question, not an accusation.”
She heaved out a sigh. “I know. Sorry. I’ve worked a twelve-hour shift every day for the last three days. Guess I’m a little punchy.”
He gave her shoulder a tender squeeze. “Don’t worry about it. I was just wondering if you had any other plans now that you don’t have to look out for your mom anymore.”
“I signed up for a few on-line classes at the community college, but other than that, who knows?”
“Oh yeah? Which ones?”
“A couple of core classes: English Comp. and U.S. History. I’m not even close to figuring out what I’d like to major in. Carl lets me use his computer during my breaks and on my days off. I’m glad I’m doing it, but it feels a little weird having to study again after all these years.”
He laughed. “All these years! You’re barely twenty-five.”
“I know, but you and most of our class finished college three years ago. At the rate I’m going, it could be ten years before I get my degree.”
Micah slowed and took a right turn. “That’s okay, a class or two at a time is easier on the checkbook. I’ll be paying back my school loans for another five years. Not that I regret going, but I’ll sure be glad when I can get rid of that debt.”
“I know what you mean. Carl loaned me the money for Mom’s funeral. He tells me not to worry about it, but I want to pay him back — with interest, but he won’t hear of it.”
“Carl’s a good guy.”
“The best.”
Sky said nothing for the next four blocks. It seemed to be the way between them — a little time to catch up followed by a lot of silence. Still, it was comfortable.
“Want to come in for a bit?” she asked when he pulled into the parking lot of her small apartment complex.
“Thanks, but I have an early morning meeting, so I’d best head on to the motel.”
She tried not to sound too disappointed. “Some other time then?”
“Tell you what. I’ll stop by the diner for a cup of coffee before I head home. If you’re working in the morning, that is.”
“I’ll be there.” She opened the door and slid out of the warm truck. “Thanks for the ride.”
“My pleasure, ma’am.” He gave her a quick two finger salute. “See you tomorrow.”
With hat and gloves in hand, Sky hurried inside. She threw off her coat, flopped onto her threadbare paisley couch, and gave Carl a quick call as promised.
A cup of tea sounded good, but Sky didn’t have the energy to fix it. Instead, she thought of Micah. As much as she wanted there to be something between them, Micah had a thing for someone else. She could still remember the first time Morgan Richardson came sauntering into the diner. Every male head in the place had turned simultaneously. It was as if their internal radar systems blared… Stunning, tall, blond, green-eyed woman approaching.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if Sky hadn’t been talking to Micah at the time and heard the soft whistle he let out. He locked eyes with the woman standing by the door, and whatever thoughts and dreams Sky had of turning their friendship into a romance crumbled before her. It didn’t matter that he and Morgan had since broken up. She knew he wasn’t over her yet.
“Enough, already!” She forced herself off the couch and into the kitchen. “A cup of tea, a hot bath, and a comfortable bed, and all will be well with the world.”
****
Micah rolled out of bed at six the following morning. After dressing, he helped himself to a cup of coffee and a bagel from the not-so-great continental breakfast selection. He dropped his key off at the reception desk and headed for his appointment.
The lawyer’s office, although small and crowded, had an aura of friendliness and efficiency about it. The far wall was lined with a series of four-drawer oak file cabinets, while pictures of mountains, streams and waterfalls dotted the three remaining walls. A small couch and two padded chairs were situated next to the only window in the room. Micah hung his denim jacket on the rack by the door. Olivia, Everett Brown’s sister, and the only secretary he’d ever had, waved Micah into the office.
“Hello, Micah.” Everett motioned to one of the two heavy wooden slat-back chairs across from his desk. “Have a seat.”
Micah shook the man’s hand. “Thank you, sir.”
“So, how are you doing?”
“I’m fine.” He took the offered seat. “A little confused as to why I’m here, though.”
Everett’s bushy, gray eyebrows lifted high on his forehead. “Why, for the reading of the will, of course.”
“But I already know what’s in it, so this is just a formality, right?”
The man’s left brow returned to its rightful place while the other one stayed put. Micah held back a laugh. He always wondered how people could do that.
“Did your grandfather show you the most recent copy of his will?” the lawyer asked.
“Well no, but he’s hinted over the years that the ranch would go to me. I mean, who else would he leave it to?”
“You do have a brother.”
The tiny hairs at the back of Micah’s neck bristled. He hadn’t seen his brother in nearly fifteen years. “Noah hates ranching and skipped out on his eighteenth birthday. There’s no way Sam would leave any of it to him.”
“That’s what we’re here to talk about.”
“Are you telling me I’m going to have to share my inheritance with Noah?”
Micah pushed his chair back and paced the small space between the chair and door. “I already told you ranching isn’t his thing. What happens if he wants to sell the place? I can’t afford to buy him out.”
The lawyer held out a hand. “Calm down, Micah. I’ll explain just as soon as—”
“Hello, brother.” Noah Cooper burst through the door wearing a gray three-button suit that looked like it cost more than Micah’s entire wardrobe. His shoes were polished to a gleam, and not a single hair on his sandy-blond head strayed out of place. He gave Micah a quick pat on the shoulder, then strode across the room, leaned over the desk, and gripped the lawyer’s hand. “Hello, Mr. Brown, it’s been a long time.”
Micah spun in his brother’s direction and experienced what he’d always thought of as a physical impossibility: his blood boiled. “What are you doing here?”
“Same thing you are.”
“Why don’t we get on with the reading?” Mr. Brown slipped on a pair of glasses.
Both men sat. Micah only half-listened as the lawyer read through the preliminaries. He knew his grandfather, although a hard man to live with, had been of sound mind, and didn’t need to hear it. His right leg bounced up and down as he stole a glance at his brother who sat stock still, seemingly listening to every word.
When it came to the information about the ranch, both men leaned forward.
“I hereby leave the ranch, house, livestock, equipment, and everything else pertaining to running the business to whichever of my grandsons marries first. Said grandson will also receive the sum of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. To the grandson who does not marry first, I bequeath the sum of seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Both bequests are to be paid out on the married grandson’s second wedding anniversary.”
Micah wanted to shout his protest, but his throat had gone bone dry. He glanced at his brother, who looked as Micah felt. He began to question his earlier thoughts about his grandfather’s lucidity.
“Where did Sam get a million bucks?” Noah asked.
Leave it to his brother to think only about the money, although Micah had to admit the thought ran through his head as well. The ranch, albeit a decent size, paled in comparison to those which catered to visitors wanting a “dude ranch” experience. Eagle’s Nest had been in his family for eighty-six years, and the notion of turning it into a tourist spot or bed and breakfast seemed almost sinful. It turned a profit every year, but a million dollars?
“Wise investments,” Mr. Brown replied.
Micah scrubbed a hand through his hair, wishing he could rid his brain of the information overload Everett Brown had just delivered. “So, now what?”
Mr. Brown cleared his throat. “There are still a few more details to go over.” He paused and looked across the desk.
Tension tightened Micah’s shoulders and the beginning of a headache worked its way up the back of his neck. “Let’s hear it all.”
Without looking back at the paper, Everet went on. “You and Noah are going to have to work the property side-by-side for the same two years, beginning no more than three months from the reading of this will.”
Micah jumped to his feet. “You gotta be kidding me!”
Noah stood and leaned over the desk. “I left that life behind a long time ago and have no desire to return.”
Mr. Brown closed the file. “That, of course, is your choice. But if you don’t follow your grandfather’s wishes, the ranch will be sold and all of the proceeds, including the million, will go to designated charities.”
“Exactly when did my grandfather have you draw up this will?” Micah asked.
“About a month and a half ago.”
Micah shook his head in disgust. “Even in death, Samuel Cooper reigns supreme. I don’t think I lived a day that he didn’t have the last word.” He lowered himself back into the chair and wondered if it would support the extra weight that had just been dumped on him. “Did he give you any reason for this ridiculous plan of his?”
The old man leaned back in his chair. “When I first moved to town, some forty-nine years ago, Sam Cooper was the first person I took on as a client. Seems I was one of the few people who could get him to think things through before making any rash decisions. All but this time.” He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “He sat right where you are, Micah, looked me square in the eye, and with little emotion told me that his insides were eaten up with cancer and he’d likely be dead in a month. Said he had a small change to make to his will.”
“A small change?” Noah let out a harsh laugh. “I’d hate to know what he considered a big one.” He circled between the desk and door twice before coming to a sudden stop. “Wait.” He pointed to Everett. “If Sam was on all kinds of pain meds, wouldn’t that negate the fact that he was of sound mind?”
Micah shook his head. “Sam never took any pills.”
“Your brother’s right,” Everett said. “I verified it with his doctor.”
Noah smoothed a hand over his hair. “I still say we can fight this. I’m going to talk to a probate lawyer I know. No offense, Mr. Brown.”
“None taken.” Everett handed each of them a copy of the will. “But the will is pretty iron-clad.”
Noah gripped the papers in his hand. “If anyone can find a way out of this mess, my friend can.”
Micah’s head pounded, and the walls of the small room closed in on him. If Noah’s lawyer friend found a way out, Noah would insist on selling the ranch. Micah couldn’t let that happen. “I need some air.” With his copy of the will in hand, he charged out of the office. His boots pounded against the hardwood floors, but he barely felt the ground beneath him. He grabbed his jacket and pushed through the double doors and down the three steps to the sidewalk.
“Hey, hold up.” Noah hurried to catch up to him. “Like it or not, we need to talk about this. And as far as I’m concerned the sooner the better.”
Micah ground his teeth. “Get lost, Noah.”
“You’re not the only one this affects, you know. There’s a lot of money involved here, and I intend to collect what’s due me.”
“Due you?” Heat blistered Micah’s face. “And just what, besides being born to the same parents as me, entitles you to anything? No, don’t answer. I’m going for a walk, and I don’t want you following me.”
Noah called after him. “You can’t ignore me forever. I’m staying at the motel right outside of town. Room one twenty-eight.”
A storm raged in Micah’s head. He didn’t stop walking until he reached the cemetery a mile outside of town. He stood beneath a large cottonwood, staring at the granite headstone. Even without its leaves the massive tree was majestic. His grandmother’s body had been in the ground for twelve years, and his mother and father’s for nearly eighteen — all under the shade of the same tree. He blew out a long, loud breath and stared at his grandfather’s name etched on the granite stone. “Why, old man?”
Micah stared at the ground, half expecting to hear his grandfather’s harsh voice reprimand him for his tone. “What gives you the right to…” He glanced at his parents’ graves. “You never stopped blaming me, did you, Sam?”
For more than fifteen minutes, Micah stood fixed to the same spot. He sought words of wisdom that would make all of this go away. None came.
When he headed back toward the main road, he stopped beside another grave. There were no trees nearby, and he knew there wouldn’t be a large headstone like the one that dominated his grandparent’s grave. A single pink rose rested atop yesterday’s snowfall. Sky must have gotten here early, he thought. And just that quickly, a desperate and crazy idea hit him.
