He almost told him that Sam had been shot, that they were out of this, going home right now, but then he knew he wouldn’t get paid the rest of what was owed him. Half up front, half when the job was done. He needed the second half, another hundred thousand. He’d need it all so they could get Sam help and lie low for a while.
“I’ll get them out of the house,” he said. “I will call you when it’s clear. Don’t screw this up, Jones.”
Before Brock could say another word, the line went dead.
CHAPTER TEN
Friday Afternoon
The rain started at noon, a light drizzle, but when Ellen looked north she saw darker clouds.
Avery had better not be late. This was going to only get worse.
She walked back from getting the mail at the end of the driveway, lucky that the postal truck had been able to get through this morning. Mostly, she had wanted to get out of the too-warm house, clear her mind about the Coulters selling a prime strip of their land to the utilities, knowing full well Verdacorp would be mining the land. There had to be a catch. She’d glanced through the contracts and there was a restrictive clause, but that didn’t make sense with what she knew about other sales in the area.
She needed to call her lawyer. Maybe he could make sense of what was going on with Verdacorp and the recent land sales.
She flipped through the mail. Bills. A card from her father—he always remembered her birthday by calling her, but sent the card late. There’d be a hundred-dollar bill inside, his standard present for every birthday and Christmas. He worked hard, even at sixty-five.Drank just as hard. He was a sad man, had never remarried, and when she left for college he just worked and drank.
It saddened her, but he rejected every offer she’d made to move to the ranch. There was an apartment above the old stables they could have fixed up for him, but he always said no.
A fancy invitation from Congresswoman Jeanne Culver, for a BBQ at her family ranch outside Gainesville for Memorial Day. At $250 a person. Ellen regretted voting for her five years ago, she certainly wasn’t going to give her a dime of her money. She ran as a friend of farmers, but voted with agribusinesses like Verdacorp. She hadn’t done anything overtly awful, but Ellen didn’t trust anyone whose largest donor was the corporation trying to buy out every farm in the valley.
And a letter from the University of Texas. Addressed to Jacob Milton McKenna. He’d already been accepted; he’d already turned it down. She was still angry about it, so what was this? Acknowledgment that he’d turned down a scholarship?
Tears burned as the steady drizzle fell. Her son had already sacrificed the fun of his senior year to work the farm, now he was sacrificing his dreams. It hurt, dammit. Her son should never have been in this position.
She’d just returned to the house when she heard a vehicle and turned toward the driveway to see Jake riding the ATV he’d borrowed from Baldwin.
She watched as he parked it in their equipment shed, then he walked over to her. “How’s Timber?” she asked.
“Uncle Travis got the buckshot out of his leg and cleaned him up. He’ll keep watch over him. Have you heard back from the sheriff? Is Baldwin going to be okay?”
“I haven’t heard, but Rick will call when he knows something.”
She handed him the letter from UT. She hadn’t opened it. He didn’t, either, instead stuffing it in his back pocket.
“You talked to Uncle Travis about this,” he said, patting the letter.
“I was frustrated. I shouldn’t have.”
“I made my decision.”
“It’s the wrong decision.”
He shook his head. “I’m doing what Dad would have done.”
“You’re doing what your daddid. He left college for this place. That’s not the same thing.”
“You can’t run the ranch on your own.”
“I’ll find a way. You are my son. I don’t want you giving up your life for a struggling farm.”
“Is that really what you think I’m doing? Is that what you think Dad did? Did you think less of him because he dropped out of college to help the family?”
“Of course not. Why would you even say that?”
“Because I have weighed my choices. I know I can leave and you would support my decision. I need you to support the decision I freely made to stay.”
