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I let my brothers lead the way back to my place, keeping an eye on Colt, ensuring he doesn’t try anything stupid—like making a break for it. He wouldn’t get far in his drunken state. But I’m not eager to send out a search party after his ass, either.
Earlier, I’d stocked the fridge with beers for this meeting. But I opt to make a pot of coffee instead as everyone gathers in the kitchen. Colt falls into a chair at the table, folding his arms and instantly passing out in them.
“For fuck’s sake,” I grumble, turning away to crack open the kitchen window and let in some fresh air.
“We can try this again tomorrow,” Liam suggests.
“Tomorrow’s no good for me,” Weston insists.
“We’re hashing this out tonight. It’s hard enough to get all of you in one county, much less one room.” I pull out mugs from the cupboard, set them near the coffee maker, and lean against the countertop as I wait for the nectar of the gods to brew. “I don’t know what you assholes have been up to while I was gone, but it’s clear you haven’t been keeping an eye on the state of things here.”
“It can’t be that bad,” Weston says, letting out a sigh that doubles as annoyance and disbelief.
“No?” I say, challenge in my tone.
“I’m here for dinner at least once a month. Paps has never said anything,” Liam agrees.
“Take a look at that ledger,” I say, nodding at the old leather-bound book on the table. Colt has a corner of it trapped beneath his elbow. Weston isn’t subtle about yanking it free, causing a loud thud when the offending elbow hits the table. Colt doesn’t stir. In fact, he starts to softly snore. Just great.
I’ll have to tell Macy the unfortunate news. But not before I plot half a dozen ways Colt is going to make this up to me.
“Why did you use a red pen?” Weston asks.
“Red’s the color you use for negative numbers.”
Both Weston and Liam look up at me at the same time, their eyes wide. Finally, understanding has dawned on them.
“This is bad,” Liam says, all smugness from earlier gone.
“It’s not fucking great,” I agree.
“How is it this bad?” Weston asks as the orange tabby, Herby, slips in through the Barney-sized doggie door. The cat sizes us up for a beat, then shakes out his entire body as if to announce he’s not dealing with us. He stalks over to Barney and slips between the edge of the dog bed and the fluffy white of the Great Pyrenees’ tummy fur. A tight pirouette and the cat curls up between the dog’s tucked paws without Barney rousing from his relaxed slumber.
“No one’s been paying close enough attention,” I say, eyes still on the furry duo.
“But they get a lot of lease income for the farmland and the ranch is paid off,” Weston adds.
“Correction, the ranch was paid off until they took out a second mortgage to pay for a new well, a roof, and a furnace three years ago. And Paps has refused to raise his lease rates to match market value. They’ve been the same for twenty years.” I’ve had that argument with him a dozen times since moving home. Each time has forced Grams to intervene. Once with a squirting water bottle she normally reserves for Gumby when he tries to steal food from the kitchen. “They haven’t turned a profitable month in over two years.”
“What do you suggest then?”
“The best thing that they could do is sell the ranch, rehome all the animals, and move into town.” Sensing the coffee has finished brewing, I turn to fill three of the four mugs and catch a glimpse of a woman running off. Macy. The urge to go after her is strong, but this meeting is important. I’ll call her when it’s finished and clear up what will certainly become a big-ass misunderstanding.
I pass out the coffee mugs to Weston and Liam. “But I’m not willing to give up on this place without throwing everything we can at the problem. We owe it to Paps and Gram to try.” And Macy. It stuns me how much she’s changed my view on this place in such a short amount of time and with very little effort.
“So we talk to Paps. Get him to see reason about raising the lease rates for the farmland,” Weston says bluntly, the practical lawyer in him coming out.
“You can try, but I doubt you’ll get anywhere.”
“Then what?” Liam asks.
“I’ve been tossing around a few ideas. One of them might have some merit.” I look at Weston. “What do you know about animal sanctuaries?”
“Animal sanctuaries?”
“How do we make the Stone Ranch become one? Officially?”
Both brothers stare at me as though I’ve grown a second head.
