Part 4
June kept reading.
There were provisions for equipment, a suggested closing schedule, and extra time in the house if they needed it after the sale. The money would clear the ranch debts. Depending on what they did with the cattle, each sister could leave with savings unlike anything either had possessed.
“Mara, look at it.”
“I know who sent it.”
“I’m asking you to look at the offer.”
Grant Pryce owned most of the ground along their southern boundary and another parcel farther west. Veylan interrupted the larger operation he had spent years assembling. Their father had turned him down more than once.
Mara set the coffee pot down without filling it.
“It’s been nine months.”
“I can count.”
“Then you know how this feels.”
June lowered the pages. “Reading it doesn’t sign anything.”
“You’re giving it a lot of thought.”
“Somebody has to give it thought.”
Mara’s face closed. June wished she had chosen a different sentence, but the invoices were still spread across the table, and she had spent the morning calculating what they could postpone without paying more later.
“We can’t sell because we’re worn out,” Mara said.
“And we can’t refuse to consider it just because it hurts.”
Neither of them spoke loudly. June could hear the refrigerator start.
Caleb opened the mudroom door and stopped with one glove still in his hand. Flint waited behind him.
“Bad time?”
“Come in,” June said.
He hung up his coat. The dog crossed to the mat.
June pushed the letter toward him. “Grant Pryce wants the place. What would you do?”
Caleb didn’t pick it up.
“Do either of you want to sell?”
Mara answered at once. June looked down at the proposed price before giving the same answer.
“If this hadn’t arrived,” Caleb asked, “what would you be working on tonight?”
“Not selling,” Mara said.
“Getting through January,” June answered.
“Then I’d start there.”
He reached for his coat again.
June stared at him. “You’re leaving us with that?”
“I can help with chores. This decision doesn’t belong to me.”
Mara took the empty pot to the sink and filled it.
Grant had requested a meeting. June called the following week and agreed to listen, making clear that no decision had been made.
She found Mara at the barn gate afterward.
“I said Tuesday afternoon.”
Mara pulled at a rough edge on her glove. “I don’t want him sitting in our kitchen telling us what Dad’s place is worth.”
“I know.”
June waited while a horse nosed the gate between them.
Mara pushed the horse gently back. “You’re not doing it by yourself.”
The two pickups arrived early.
June saw them from the kitchen, where she had put the offer and her notes in a neat stack. Mara looked at the clock and said nothing.
Caleb was in the shop replacing a damaged fitting on the older tractor. Flint lay near the doorway, using a strip of afternoon sun.
Grant climbed out wearing a wool coat and boots that had been polished recently enough for the mud to show. His hair had begun turning silver at the temples. He greeted both sisters as if the visit were a favor he had been pleased to arrange.
The heavier man beside him was Dean Holt, who ran his southern operation. The other pickup held Grant’s broker and a survey contractor.
June looked toward the second vehicle. “We agreed to a conversation.”
“That’s what we’ll have,” Grant said.
She brought them into the kitchen rather than conduct it in the cold.
For a while, he stayed with facts. Feed costs, labor costs, aging machinery, the expense of carrying cows through winter and into calving. June knew enough of the figures to recognize the ones he had right.
Then he slid a revised offer across the table.
Mara left it where he put it.
“You haven’t looked,” he said.
“I can see the price.”
“There’s more here than a price.”
“Yes,” she said. “You’ve brought several people to explain it.”
Dean’s mouth moved slightly. Grant continued, describing how the sale could clear the tractor note and operating debt. They could handle the cattle in their own time. He would be flexible about the farmhouse.
“You wouldn’t have to rush out,” he said. “Spring would be perfectly reasonable.”
June looked up. Mara’s hand had gone still around her mug.
“Dad refused you,” Mara said.
“He did.”
“And he wasn’t unclear.”
“Your father had circumstances you don’t have.”
June touched the edge of the folder. “We said we’d hear your proposal. We’ve heard it.”
Grant turned to her. “You’re the one who understands the financial side.”
June closed the folder.
“Don’t try that with me.”
Dean studied a mark on the table.
Grant sat back. “I’m offering a way for two young women to avoid spending years trying to impress a father who’s gone.”
The stove made a small settling sound.
“You don’t get to tell us what our father means,” June said.
Grant held her gaze, then inclined his head. “All right.”
He stood and reached for his gloves.
“Since we’re here, I’d like the surveyor to look at the southern access. Won’t take long.”
“No,” Mara said.
“It’s only a look.”
“Not today.”
“The easement needs sorting out.”
“Through our attorney.”
Grant buttoned his coat. “Dean, show him where it runs.”
Mara stood between the table and the mudroom. “You heard me.”
He went around her and opened the door.
June picked up her phone.
Outside, the afternoon had lost its last warmth. Grant started toward the gate to the southern lane, Dean beside him. The surveyor followed a few steps behind. The broker remained near the pickups.
Mara caught up before Dean reached the latch.
“You’re not opening that.”
Grant turned. “We’ve already made the trip.”
“You should have asked before you did.”
The shop door scraped open. June saw Caleb take in the visitors, her phone, Mara standing in front of the gate. He attached Flint’s lead before bringing him across the yard.
The dog wasn’t barking. His head had come up, and his stride shortened until it matched Caleb’s leg.
Caleb stopped beside Mara.
Grant looked him over. “Stay out of this.”
“She’s answered you,” Caleb said.
Dean gave a little laugh. “We’re talking about looking down a road.”
Mara pointed toward the pickups. “You’re leaving.”
June came off the porch. “No survey has been authorized. Any request goes to our attorney.”
“Is the attorney here?” Grant asked.
“No.”
“Then let’s not make a legal proceeding out of ten minutes.”
Dean moved toward the latch. Mara stepped across his path.
“Hands off.”
He stopped and glanced at Grant.
Grant said nothing.
Dean reached around Mara toward the gate.
Flint’s growl came low and sustained. The shepherd had gone rigid, his attention fixed on the reaching hand.
Dean froze.
Caleb shortened the lead without pulling the dog back. “Steady.”
Grant pointed. “Get that animal under control.”
“Under control.”
Dean withdrew his hand. Then his expression hardened, and he stepped closer to Mara.
“Lady, nobody’s stealing your ranch.”
Flint barked once. Dean jerked, then took another half step forward.
The shepherd drove to the end of the lead, claws biting into the frozen yard.
“Hold,” Caleb said.
Flint stopped immediately…
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