“Of course he did,” I muttered. Just like him to leave me a money pit.
“There’s one more thing,” Cohen said, pulling out another document. “You have a cousin who still lives in Sagebrush. Brooks Callahan. He runs a small cattle operation adjacent to your father’s property.”
That name hit me like a punch to the gut. Brooks. We’d been close when I was a kid, before everything went to hell. He was almost like an uncle to me back then. I hadn’t thought about him in years.
“Brooks is still there?” I asked, my voice rougher than I intended.
“Yes. According to your father’s notes, he checks in on the ranch occasionally.”
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. A ranch I never wanted, a cousin I hadn’t spoken to in over a decade, and the ghost of a father who’d rejected me. All of it was waiting for me in Sagebrush, Texas.
“When do I need to decide what to do with it?” I asked.
“The property is yours effective immediately,” Cohen replied. “But I would recommend that you visit soon to assess its condition and determine your next steps.”
I nodded slowly, already dreading what I might find. “And if I don’t?”
“The ranch is paid for, in full,” Cohen said, handing me the thick yellow envelope full of what I assumed was paperwork and the deed to the ranch. “It’ll probably take two years before the overdue property taxes cause a seizure by the county.”
I took the envelope, turned it over in my hand, then tossed it down on the coffee table with a thud, sending beer cans scattering. “Good. Let them take it. I don’t want his pity, anyway.”
“Mr. Callahan,” the lawyer sighed. “Can I speak frankly?”
“It’s a free country,” I grumbled.
“You’re what? Twenty-four? Twenty-five years old?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ve got a lot of life ahead of you and this ranch, even if you don’t want to keep it, could set you up for the rest of your life.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at me. “You don’t have to keep the ranch. You don’t even have to like it. But do you really want to let it go to waste over some squabble you and your father had?”
“He was an asshole,” I shot back. “He disowned me.”
“Okay,” Cohen nodded. “So why not sell off the ranch, take your money, and go live your dreams in spite of him then?”
I hadn’t thought of it that way. The idea of making money off the old man’s property and using it to spite him did have a certain appeal.
“How much?” I asked, suddenly interested.
Cohen shrugged. “Hard to say without seeing its current condition, but land in that area is valuable. Even if the structures need work, the acreage alone could fetch a decent price. A million, maybe more. Enough to live on for a long time without any worries.”
I let out a low whistle. That kind of money would change everything. I could leave this trailer park, maybe start over somewhere new. Somewhere no one knew me or my story. Maybe I could even get my life together and find some handsome fella to settle down with. That would really show my old man.
“I’d need to see it first,” I said, surprising myself with the words. “Before I decide anything.”
“I think that’s wise,” Cohen said, looking relieved. He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and placed them on the coffee table. “These are yours now. The main house, barn, various outbuildings.”
I stared at the keys. They looked old and well-worn. I remembered them hanging from Dad’s belt loop as he worked around the ranch.
“One more thing,” Cohen said, tapping the thick envelope on the table. “Your father left you a letter in there. He asked that you read it when you’re ready.”
I stared at the envelope like it was a rattler. “I’ve got enough of his letters I never read,” I said.
“You don’t have to read it,” Cohen said. “That’s up to you. But he did write it the week before he passed.”
I scoffed, not moved by his words. “I’ll think about it.”
Cohen nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer. He stood up and handed me his business card. “Call me when you’ve made a decision, or if you have any questions. The property taxes are paid through the end of the year, so you have some time.”
