His Town

by Ellie Danes

  I wasn’t about to tell the father of a girl I’d had sex with what those “other things” were—at least, not what all of them were.

  “She’s always been real active,” Martin said. “Hiking, rock climbing. She played softball in high school.”

  “So, she’s always had a bit of a competitive streak, then?” I found one of the traps filled with a rabbit—I cleared it and tossed the carcass into the sack to get rid of later.

  “She’s always wanted to be a winner,” Martin explained. “Focused. None of the other teams could shake her when she was at bat—no matter how they tried.”

  I thought about that as we moved on in the direction of the next trap. I liked to keep the traps in different parts of the field, in different spots—to make sure that none of the critters that might come to try and browse at my crops would get too used to the traps being in a particular place, to avoid them.

  “Was she always like that, though? Even as a kid?” I tried to picture Emily as a little girl—blond hair done in braided pigtails, maybe, her green eyes bigger in proportion to her face, looking adorable and probably a little scrappy, too. If she’d been born and raised in Mustang Ridge, she’d probably have ended up on the softball team there, too; and she’d probably be exactly the kind of girl I’d have wanted to date as a teenager. Maybe she would have stayed in town, or maybe she’d have taken that ambition she seemed to have and gone on to UT or UH and moved to the city she lived in anyway.

  “As a kid, she was, well, pretty much a kid. Bright, always liked to climb trees, ride her bike all day long.”

  I smiled a bit to myself. “Sounds like you’re proud of her.”

  “I am,” Martin said. “That girl’s going to take over the company one day, when I get to be too old to do this anymore.”

  We finished checking the traps and I tossed the sack of dead animals into the dumpster to be carted off by the trash collector the next day.

  “Now we’re going to check the perimeter fence, and then we’ll head into town,” I explained. I liked to try and walk as much of the fence as possible, but I figured for Martin’s sake I’d use the golf cart I kept around for quicker trips to specific parts of the fence farthest away from the house.

  “It’s a constant job, isn’t it?” he asked as we both climbed onto the golf cart and started off towards the perimeter fence.

  “Yeah.” I thought—I hoped—that if I could just get through to him how valuable it all was, how it was a real life, that maybe I could change the man’s plans. I almost definitely couldn’t change his plans altogether, but with enough pressure from the community, and if I could get Emily’s father’s eyes opened, I might be able to limit how much they did.

  We went around the perimeter and I made a few mental notes about the weak spots; they weren’t bad enough to need immediate fixing, but over the next few days I would probably want to reinforce them, replace a few posts and boards.

  “So, you grew up in a town not much bigger than this one, right?” I asked.

  Martin nodded. “I lived out east of Houston,” Martin told me. “We sold the old home place after my parents passed, got a good value for it—it was one of the first really big deals I got going. I convinced a few other people in my town who weren’t making as much as they used to that they should sell, too, and brought in a big buyer.”

  “And you got a nice payday, and so did a few other people,” I said.

  “My brother and sister and I all made out good,” Martin agreed. “So did the five other people who sold their land. Best decision they ever made—and the old town now has an Arby’s, a Walmart, and an actual shopping mall, along with about ten thousand new residents.”

  I looked at him for a moment before starting the cart back up. How was I going to argue with the kind of logic that Martin Lewis had going on? He saw that as a win, and I guessed—for that particular situation—it was.

  “But what about the people who were still farming?” I asked. “Or whatever the thing was in your town?” I drove us back toward the house, thinking about the next phase in the day’s business: getting Martin to actually meet some people in town, see what they were like. “Didn’t you think it was a shame that people got pushed out like that?”

  “There are still some people farming out that way,” Martin said. “And as the town’s built up, the people who don’t want to farm anymore can actually get better money for their property when they sell—it works out good for them.”

  I chewed on that, mentally, and pulled into the barn. “Let’s just grab a few things from town,” I said. “I need some stuff for the tractor, a few things for Mom—stuff like that.” I smiled at Martin. “Try not to do the big sales thing while we’re out and about, okay?”

  We went into town and I made a point of going as many places as possible for the different things I needed, taking my time and introducing Martin around. Most of the people in the town already knew who he was, and a few people looked at me askance, wondering, obviously, why I was walking around with someone I was working against.

  “I’m trying to give Martin a feel for what makes Mustang Ridge great,” I said, before people could talk themselves out of asking me if I’d changed sides. “I want him to understand what it is he’s trying to do in the town.”

  “No offense to you, Mr. Lewis, but I think you’re on a fool’s errand, Rhett,” Johnny Knowles said to me outside of the administration building. “If he cared about this town, he wouldn’t be selling us out. We’re not his people, anyway.”

  “Times have been tough around here, but you’re not going to find many people willing to let go of their land for a pittance,” Johnny’s wife Claire said, shaking her head. “Most of us here like the life we’re living, even if it’s a bit leaner than it used to be.”

  “Why are you all against developing the town? That’s all I want to know—I want to understand,” Martin said, and he sounded pretty sincere.

  “We’re not against developing it as such,” Claire said. “But we’re against what amounts to killing the town. Bringing in one smaller chain—that makes jobs for people who might not have them otherwise, supports the local economy. But a bunch of new companies coming in? That just means the smaller businesses die off, people move away, the community dies.”

  Martin got the same reaction from more than a few people we ran into throughout the town as I picked up oil and a couple of parts for the tractor, and got some things on Mom’s grocery list, little errands like that. Over the course of the hour we were in town, I saw Martin’s behavior change. He went from talking a lot to listening a lot, and I thought that maybe it was sinking in for him, what it was he was doing.

  Emily was back at the house when we drove up in my truck, and she was looking as cute as ever. Shame you gotta be against her, I thought. In another world, maybe. I pushed the thought out of my mind.

  “You two want to stay for dinner? Mom’d love to have you,” I said.

  Part of me meant it—part of me wished them both well away, for my own peace of mind. I thought Martin might be changing his thoughts on what he wanted for the town, but I didn’t know for sure, and I didn’t need the distraction of him flirting with my mother, or the presence of Emily at the kitchen table. I needed to relax and plan out what I was going to do on the farm and in town the next couple of days. Just in case Martin didn’t back off or change course, I still needed to talk to whoever in town would back me. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst—that had always been my father’s advice, and I intended to stick with it.

  “We’ve got a dinner date,” Emily said. “Rain check?”

  “Sure thing,” I said, nodding. I couldn’t help but hope that I’d be able to manage to have dinner with Emily and not her father. I wouldn’t call Martin Lewis a friend, but I thought he wasn’t as bad a guy as I’d originally thought. If he could do the right thing, we might become acquaintances. If things went well, I might be able to actually get to know Emily—but I wasn’t necessarily going to bet o
n it just yet. She might be cute, and she might be smart and tough and ambitious—all things I liked and appreciated—but she was a city girl, and I didn’t think even she fully understood my problem with her dad’s plan for Mustang Ridge.

  “I’ll catch up with you in a day or two,” Martin said. “I’ve got a lot to think about.”

  “Maybe I’ll call ahead and we can make dinner plans,” Emily said hopefully. “I’ll bring dessert.”

  “Sounds good,” I told her.

  I shook Martin’s hand again and watched him get into Emily’s car, seeing them off before I headed back into the house to let Mom know we were going to be alone for dinner as usual.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Emily

  Dad had been quiet all the way home, but the next morning he wanted to talk about the plans for the town. So I got up and got out of the apartment, headed for our favorite lunch spot in Houston, Rudy’s. On the way over, I got a call from Jacob. I considered just letting it roll over to voicemail, but I figured that he wouldn’t be calling me—on a weekend and just after Dad’s meeting with Rhett—without having something to say that was worth hearing.

  “What’s up, Jake?”

  “I know you’re meeting with your dad in a few. I just wanted to get my own update on what the situation with sales is,” he said.

  “It’s going about like I expected,” I replied. “There are still some holdouts—Rhett has been spreading the word not to let us talk folks into selling.”

  “That’s going to make things tough, if we can’t get past their resistance,” Jacob observed.

  “Well, yeah, but the company can build on a smaller lot,” I pointed out. “We already worked that out with them, didn’t we? We have a minimum and a max that they need to move forward.”

  “Well, they came back with new plans,” Jacob said. “About a week ago. Didn’t your Dad mention it?”

  “No, he didn’t.” I felt my stomach starting to twist and my heart beating a little faster. Surely it was just that Dad had forgotten to mention it—either that, or it wasn’t set in stone yet. “What’s the new plan?”

  “They’re putting in a whole complex,” Jacob said. “They brought in a handful of partners that they’ve worked with in other rural locations, making a sort of strip mall thing. Not just the capstone store, but also shops for a restaurant, a shoe store, a pet shop, things like that.”

  For a few moments I couldn’t do anything but run on autopilot. I had been selling people on the idea of trading in their land for good money, with the expectation that the new store that would come in would actually bring more business to the town. But if what Jacob was saying was true, then a lot of the businesses would end up needing to close almost right away—there would be the competition right there. The new plan would wipe out the whole of the town center except for the administration offices. Maybe not right away, but it would probably happen in less than a year. Anyone who owned a business in the town center would basically go bankrupt. It would absolutely kill the town.

  “You’re sure about this?” I turned into the parking area for Rudy’s, and thought that no matter what Jacob said, I was going to talk to my father and get the word from him before I made up my mind on what to believe—or, more importantly, what to do about it.

  “Hey, I’m just telling you what I know,” Jacob said. “So we’re definitely going to need as much property to put that sweet little piece of development on as possible.”

  I managed to get off the phone with him without—I hoped—tipping off the fact that my mind was spinning at what he’d had to say. I couldn’t believe that my father would move forward with the kind of plan Jacob was talking about, when he’d spent the day before with Rhett, going around the town and getting to know people in Mustang Ridge as an actual community.

  I took a deep breath and told myself that I was overreacting. My dad wasn’t evil. I couldn’t let myself think that he was going to destroy a town—even a tiny one—for the sake of making a profit.

  I shut off the engine to my car. I grabbed my purse, made sure to put my phone in it, and got out, then headed for the door to Rudy’s. Hopefully I don’t have my stomach turned by what I’m about to hear from Dad, I thought, already smelling the gorgeous odors of smoke and beef and sausage. I’d always loved eating at Rudy’s with Dad; the food was amazing. But if what Jacob had said was true, I didn’t think I would have much appetite.

  I spotted Dad at one of the tables and waved at him to let him know I’d arrived before getting in line. I tried to keep my patience even though my brain was swirling with what Jacob had said about my father’s plans, and my need to hear Dad say that Jacob was wrong, or at least mistaken. I got my usual order of a brisket sandwich, cream corn, and coleslaw, along with a Coke and a banana pudding—. Then I grabbed my tray and navigated through and around the steady crowd of people to get to Dad’s table.

  “Good to see you, baby girl,” Dad said as I sat down. “I almost couldn’t wait to call you this morning—we’ve got a lot to do.”

  “About that,” I said. “Jacob called me and seemed to think that the plan had changed—that we were going to put in a whole business complex in Mustang Ridge.”

  Dad nodded, and my stomach dropped to my knees.

  “I called the company last night to confirm the plan,” he said. “It’s going to be huge! In one fell swoop we’ll be bringing Mustang Ridge into the twenty-first century.”

  “But don’t you think that it’s going to kind of...destroy the businesses that are already there?”

  Dad shrugged. “Since we’re going to be putting in a much bigger complex of businesses, we can afford to pay everyone out more,” he said. “Including some of the folks whose businesses might end up being overrun a bit. There’s always room for competition, sweetie—makes people work harder.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing from my dad’s own lips.

  “Dad, don’t you see anything wrong with this?” I gripped my fork so tightly my knuckles turned white.

  Dad looked at me, a little surprised. “Well, if you think it’s wrong to bring a whole suite of businesses to a sleepy old town, and make their lives better, then I’d like to hear it.”

  I swallowed against the dry feeling in my throat. Suddenly I couldn’t even think of eating any of the things I’d ordered, even though they were my favorites. My stomach twisted around inside of my body, and all I could think of was the fact that I needed to get away from here. I didn’t even know where I could go. But I knew I couldn’t make a scene.

  “Just...tell me how you picture this playing out, the whole long-run plan,” I said, forcing down the bile creeping up my throat.

  I swallowed again and tried to focus while Dad went on and on about paying off the people whose properties we were going to be buying up, and how they would—in turn—be able to either relocate to greener pastures, or create new businesses in Mustang Ridge, businesses that would bring even more business to the town. I couldn’t even imagine what he was saying. I could picture how the families in the small, sleepy farming town were going to manage to turn even hundreds of thousands of dollars into a new life somewhere else or within the town itself. They would have to start over from scratch, move to a completely new town, somewhere that was just as small.

  It would, I was sure, absolutely destroy Mustang Ridge.

  Dad noticed after a little while that I wasn’t eating my food, even though he was shoveling his meal into his mouth every time he took a break from talking my ears off. “Come on, sweetie; are you feeling okay?”

  I took a breath. Don’t make a scene, Em. Get yourself out of here and figure out what the hell you’re going to do.

  “I’m actually feeling a bit green,” I said. “I think I’ll ask them if they can wrap this up for me, and go home.” I knew I wasn’t going home—I would only stew there, just get myself even more worked up. But I had to tell the old man something.

  “Well, if you’re feeling poorly, then it’s a g
ood idea to get your rest now,” he said, oblivious. “We’re going to need you to be on top of things come Monday, when we really start the full court press on buying land up in Mustang Ridge.”

  I nodded, not even trusting myself to speak for the moment—at least, not on the situation in Mustang Ridge—and told him I’d call him in the morning, before I grabbed my tray and went back up to the service counter.

  I managed to convince them to wrap my stuff up to go, and hurried out of the restaurant as quickly as possible, trying to decide what to do about it. I couldn’t think. I fumbled in my purse for my phone, not even sure why I was looking for it, and managed to get behind the wheel of my car. I put the food in the passenger seat, then closed the door behind me.

  The only person I could think of to talk to was Rhett. I couldn’t talk to my closest friend, Natalie—not about this. She wouldn’t have any idea what to say, and I could almost guarantee that she would tell me I was overreacting, that my job was more important than some middle of nowhere town.

  I found Rhett’s number in my phone and hesitated. As much as I hated what I knew my father was doing, I almost couldn’t stand to admit that Rhett had been right—even if neither of us had known it. The deal I’d originally been selling the people of Mustang Ridge had changed underneath my feet, and I didn’t think it was really my fault. I was going to have to eat crow about it, anyway. I didn’t want to.

  But I also couldn’t think of anything else to do. I couldn’t go back to my apartment, because even if Natalie was there, I didn’t think drinking half a bottle of wine with her would fix my predicament, and I’d just get more upset. Better to swallow down some humble pie and see if I could work with Rhett somehow to do something about what Dad was planning. I pushed down my sense of wounded pride and tapped the ‘call’ icon.

  “Didn’t think I’d be hearing from you anytime soon,” Rhett said when the call connected.

  “I need to talk to you,” I told him. “How busy are you today?”

  “Not that busy,” he said. “What do you need to talk to me about?”