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I need at least one person to believe me, and I see in his eyes that he does.
“Ain’t none of my business anyway.” He looks toward the bunkhouse. “We’ll get going on the morning chores.”
“Thanks, Wade, for always being a good person and a loyal friend.”
As I head toward the house, my anger returns like an icy blow to my chest. It helps bury the worry and anguish as I focus on my parents’ part in all this.
Mom and Dad are still at breakfast when I step inside.
I toss the papers in the center of the table. “Care to explain?”
Mom shoots Dad a troubled look.
“Where did you get those?” Dad asks. “Were you rifling around in my desk?”
“I wouldn’t do that unless you asked?—”
“Your mother set them aside so we could?—”
“Randy stole them!” I fold my arms, as if that’ll keep all the pieces of me from flying apart.
“Stole—he went through our things?” Dad’s jaw clenches as he glances toward the living room, putting the events of last night together. “Where is he?”
“I fired him.” My gaze steadies on him. “Told him to leave after what he’s done. So that’s what he did. Went to his truck and drove off without collecting any of his stuff.”
Mom stands, alarm in her expression. “What about Pixie?”
My shoulders sag as I pace the room. “For now, she’s safe.”
Dad nods and points to a chair. “Will you at least sit down so we can explain?”
I shake my head and continue wearing a path in the floor. The burden of the truth weighs heavily on me. Are my parents even who I thought they were? This whole time I’ve been holding part of myself back, and they’ve been hiding this? “I don’t know how you think you can possibly explain?—”
“We didn’t know!” Dad blurts.
“At least not until after your grandfather passed. We were planning to tell you eventually,” Mom adds, and now I’m curious if it’s the reason they agreed to talk later. “Now will you take a seat?”
My gut churns, and my muscles are so tight that even sitting doesn’t unclench them.
“When I found my father’s journal after the funeral,” Dad says, “I could scarcely believe the secrets it contained. Those papers were stuffed inside, along with a confession that the story Porter’s father had told for years was indeed true.”
“We sought legal advice, of course.” Mom is nervously twisting her napkin in her lap. “We were told the agreement wasn’t binding because it was never notarized. We were also advised to burn the papers, but we couldn’t bring ourselves to do something like that. It didn’t seem right.”
“It weighed heavily on us, so we mulled over our options and never settled on a solution. That dispute happened generations ago; what could we do now? Hand over part of the ranch based on a written note between two men who were supposedly friends?”
“It’s about more than that.” I pound my fist on the table. “It’s about our family’s legacy. How everyone in town who heard the rumor believed us and not the Dixons because, what? They were poor? They wouldn’t be poor if my great-grandfather hadn’t been a cheat.”
“You’re right.” Dad frowns. “You think I’m not ashamed? Because I am. And maybe that’s why I welcomed the Dixons to this ranch all those years ago.”
“You mean…” My head spins as I put more of the puzzle pieces together. “So that’s why you hired Mrs. Dixon and put Porter to work on the ranch too?”
“Partly, yes. They’re good people and deserved a leg up.” Dad winces. “It was common knowledge that Mr. Dixon had his struggles, and hell if I wanted his wife and son to suffer.”
“But they did suffer! Their family’s name was tarnished after what ours did.” I clench my jaw. “I can’t believe this is real.”
“We’re so sorry. There were times over the years when we considered telling you,” Mom says, and I can hear the regret in her voice. “After his momma passed away and Porter left so abruptly, we thought that might be the last we’d see of the Dixons. We regretted not taking the opportunity?—”
“But then Porter returned, and you were both eager to hire him.” I stand again and pace. “It all makes sense now.”
