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“Buck?” I heard my sister’s voice say from the other side of the door.
“I’ll be out in a minute, Flynn.”
“Can I come in?”
I stood and opened the door.
“I’m sure this is hard for you to accept.”
I shook my head. “That is an understatement, sis.”
“I know you and Pop never got along much, but I believe in my heart, he did what he thought was best for the ranch and best for our family.”
“I’m not your savior. Not any of yours. If things are as bad as Porter says and the four of you want the ranch, you’re going to have to work your asses off. I didn’t bring any magic bullets with me.”
“It won’t matter how hard we work if you leave, Buck,” Flynn murmured.
I looked up and saw my three brothers standing in the doorway.
“Are you leavin’?” asked Cord. I looked into his eyes then Holt’s, Port’s, and finally Flynn’s.
I looked down at the floor. Did I really have any choice? My brothers and sister weren’t to blame for what our father had done. In fact, they’d probably been trying to hold things together here for the last few years, with no help from me.
“Hell, no, I’m not leaving.”
Flynn threw her arms around my neck. I looked beyond her to my brothers. Port was the only one of them not smiling.
“We need a minute,” I said, brushing through the doorway and motioning for Porter to follow me back out to the porch.
I slammed the front door behind me and put my hands on my hips. “You wanna tell me what the fuck your problem is, Port?”
“Go to hell, Buck.” He tried to get around me, but I shoved him up against the house.
“I didn’t do this. The old man did. So whatever you’re mad at me for, get over it.”
My brother shook his head. “You can’t see it from anyone’s point of view but your own.”
“Tell me how you see it.”
“How do you think Cord, Holt, and I feel? We’ve been here, workin’ our fingers to the bone while you’ve gone off and done whatever the hell you wanted to.”
I backed up, and Porter walked around me.
“We should’ve inherited. Us and Flynn. You shouldn’t even be here.”
“You got that right.” I stepped off the porch and walked toward the barn. When I was sure my brother wouldn’t follow, I pulled out my cell.
“Hey, Buck. I was sorry to hear
about your father,” said Sterling “Hammer” Anderson, an attorney I knew the Invincibles kept on retainer.
“Thanks, Hammer.”
“What can I do for you?”
“I need to talk to a lawyer.”
“Then, you called the right place.”
