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Randall and Robin stood nearby. Her words to me had interrupted something he was saying, fast and vehement.
I nodded to them, smiled back at her. “I heard the will left it to you, but will her family—?”
“Got in touch with that brother of hers who’s running Wendy’s estate and doesn’t sound like there’ll be any problems over the ranch.” Her grin turned sly. “Don’t know if he just wants to be rid of it, if he can’t believe land outside of Jackson’s worth anything, or if he’s afraid I’ll go after more of Wendy’s estate, but he’s not disputin’ a thing. It’s all mine.”
“It’s expensive to run a ranch,” Randall said, “especially a dude ranch, and to upgrade—”
She blew out her lips at the idea of upgrading.
It didn’t stop him. “You have no idea—”
“Only lived here most of my life.”
“Wendy handled the finances,” he shot back.
“There are a lot of expenses,” I said to Brenda. “Have you talked to other ranchers? Maybe Tom—”
“Finally, someone talking sense,” Randall butted in. “I’ll get this place for you yet, Robin, it’s—”
“You won’t,” Brenda stuck in.
But Randall’s attention was on his daughter. Well, much of it. The rest was for himself.
“—not over. I’m not done.”
A gracious response might have reassured him he hadn’t failed her — because that’s what he was really saying.
But maybe Robin knew gracious wouldn’t work. “I don’t want it. Not to own. I just want to come here. I don’t have to own it to come.” She looked to Brenda. “Can I come sometimes?”
“Sure, if you pay your way and behave yourself, not like last time.” Brenda wasn’t done. “And you need lessons on a couple horses in the corral before you’re allowed to take any on the trail. First time you break the rules, you’re out of the saddle. Can’t risk any of the horses getting a neck broke because of you.”
“That... That...” Randall sputtered.
Robin meekly said, “Okay.” Leaving her father off-balance as she turned to him. “See, Dad. We can enjoy things without buying them. Without owning them.”
Her father’s reaction split down the middle between stunned pleasure that she’d called him Dad and stunned disbelief at her disavowing the perfection of owning.
The fact that the latter was only half of his reaction left me with a spurt of optimism that father and daughter might find each other, at least on some level.
“Last year, after I got hurt, and we were up there waiting, Keefe said we none of us owned any of this.” She turned back to us. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
Relief that his daughter hadn’t gone completely mad suffused Randall Kenyon’s face.
“See, it’s all working out great,” Brenda said to me. She tipped her head. “Considering paying cash for supplies. Never did like how Wendy ran up debt each year”
“Cash?”
“I told you, Keefe knew he could come to me if he needed money.”
She had told me that. I just hadn’t thought she’d meant ranch-running money. More like going to McDonald’s money.
“How...?” That much was out before considerations of privacy and nosiness reared up.
“Told you that, too. When my parents died, sold our place. There was an insurance policy, too. The Longbaughs — first his father and now James — took care of that. They put the money in a trust and had some financial people invest it. Nothing too risky. They showed me how if you let it be for long enough, it can grow and grow. Never needed any of it, with living and working here. So—” She lifted a shoulder. “—it grew and grew.
“James says he’s got it set up to support me fine even if the ranch goes belly-up and I’m in one of those homes. I figure if the ranch is gone, it wouldn’t matter to me where I am. Besides, that wouldn’t be such a bad life. Sort of like being a guest here. Other people setting your schedule for activities and meals and such, but no worries, either.”
“But with that much money, why did you stay here? Taking orders from Wendy when you could have gone anywhere?”
