Last Chance Llama Ranch

by Hilary Fields

  “Do I have to want something to come say hello to my wife?” His twinkle turned aggressive. “Now that ain’t kind.”

  “Kind? The only kindness you ever did me was running off with that senorita seven years ago!”

  The judges tittered. “We’ll leave you to your lovers’ quarrel,” Greta stage-whispered. “We can come back later to look over your other animals, Dolly.”

  Dolly only nodded tightly, not taking her eyes from John. Like a scorpion that might strike at any second, Merry thought. “What. Do. You. Want?” Dolly repeated. “You got about five seconds to tell me before I sic ol’ Snape on you, and he packs one hell of a loogie!”

  John’s jolly demeanor slipped a notch. He crossed his arms and puffed up his chest. “Knew you’d be at the festival, and I figured I’d be less likely to get a shotgun in my snoot if I found you here instead of at the ranch,” he said. “I came for what’s mine, Dorothy.”

  “I ain’t yours!” Dolly was scandalized.

  “Well now, that’s not exactly true,” he drawled, stroking his epic mustache in a way that made Merry think of penny-dreadful villains. “Thing of it is, I never actually got around to filing those divorce papers.”

  “What?!”

  Dolly’s mouth gaped open in pure disbelief, but John barreled on before she could demand an explanation. “Still, handsome as you are, Dolly-my-dear, I ain’t actually talking about you. I’m talking about the ranch.” He smiled through his mustache. “Long as we’re still hitched, it’s still half mine.”

  Dolly fumbled for the counter behind her and leaned against it as if all the stuffing had gone out of her. Merry put her arm around Dolly’s shoulder. “You okay, Dolly? You want me to go find a security guard?”

  “It takes more than a snake in the grass to spook me,” Dolly told Merry. To John, she said, “Even if that were true—and I don’t for one minute accept it—you’ve never shown the slightest bit of interest in the Last Chance all these years. Why come after it now?”

  “Well now, that might have something to do with this tall drink of water right here,” said John, leering at Merry.

  “Me?” Oh, no, Merry thought. He doesn’t mean…

  “Imagine my surprise when I come to find out the Last Chance is all of a sudden famous ’cause of some writer on the Internet.” He shook his head, clicked his tongue. “Never imagined folks would get a kick out of Aguas Milagros. It never held much to interest me, and the ranch sure’s heck wasn’t no prize. I was happy to leave you to it, Dolls…until I got a better offer.” He looked over his shoulder, and the two women followed his gaze.

  What met their eyes was rather unexpected.

  The cowboy had brought along his lawyer.

  The gentleman, stiff and sweltering in a blue pinstripe suit on this unusually warm November day, shifted foot to foot in his polished wingtips, as if afraid of stepping in dung. Which, Merry thought, was a pretty reasonable fear considering the venue. His thinning hair was plastered to his head with sweat, and he was clutching an attaché case as if it might shield him from attack by wild animal. Snape, picketed by the side of the booth, stared at him from under his long forelock, flicking his banana ears in a way Merry had come to know meant a loogie was a definite possibility.

  John aimed his thumb at the suit. “This-here fellow says he’ll give me four hundred grand for the ranch, kit and caboodle.”

  The man stepped forward, seeming relieved to get to business. “That’s correct, Mrs. Cassidy. I represent a company called Massive Euphemistics, based in Denver. And we’d like to talk to you about buying out your ranch.”

  “What the hell for?” Dolly straightened up from the counter, stiffening her spine.

  Seeing her expression, the lawyer took an involuntary step back. “Well, Mrs. Cassidy, our morale department feels it would make a perfect location for a retreat and conference center.” He shrugged, as if the idea were beyond his personal comprehension. “Running team-building workshops, llama therapy exercises…that sort of thing.”

  “You have a morale department?” Merry muttered incredulously.

  “Llama therapy? The hell is that?” Dolly demanded. She moved nearer to Snape, as if to shield him.

  The lawyer consulted a sheet of paper from his briefcase. “Well, I’m not fully up to speed on all the details, but, ah, I believe the idea is to allow our management leadership to express their core values and explore their initiative in a rustic environment, and to interact with the animals in a way that’s conducive to freeing their inner creativity and adding value to the collective.”

  Dolly’s chest heaved.

  “You know. Like a dude ranch.”

  Dolly’s eyes grew wide as saucers.

  “Like that movie City Slickers,” he added helpfully.

  Merry stepped in before the man could lose an eye. “Listen, Mr.…”

  “Watts. Cyril Watts.”

  “Mr. Watts. I think you’re barking up the wrong tree here. Mrs. Cassidy runs a small fiber farm and llama rescue. It’s not set up for large groups of guests. What would some big corporation want with it?”

  “Well, Ms. Manning…you are Merry Manning, aren’t you? The writer?”

  Merry nodded tightly.

  “I thought you must be. Can’t be too many women fitting your description, I imagine. As it happens, it’s actually your reporting that caught the eye of our company’s morale manager. Your”—he looked down at the paper again, clearly reading from a script—“charming blog about Aguas Milagros made management think it would be the perfect spot for our retreat center. With a few tweaks, naturally.”

  “Tweaks?!”

  The man’s gaze darted back and forth between the two women, settling on Dolly as the more outraged of the two. “We’d be open to the possibility of you staying on, Mrs. Cassidy, in some capacity. Perhaps as a hostess, or an animal consultant—”

  “Animal consultant?!”

  “It’s all laid out here, in our proposal. The buyout offer, the terms and conditions.” Watts waved a binder with a glossy cover embossed with the corporation’s logo and the phrase, “M.E. and You: A Winning Combination.”

  “Maybe you should give Mrs. Cassidy a minute here, to digest what you’re saying,” Merry suggested. “It’s a bit of a shock for her—”

  “‘Shock’ ain’t the word I’d use,” Dolly muttered, glaring at her not-so-ex-husband and Mr. Watts with equal venom.

  “—And obviously, she’ll need a little time. Why don’t you leave your proposal with her, and she’ll look it over when she’s ready.”

  “I ain’t ever going to be ready for no ‘dude ranch,’” Dolly growled.

  “Ready or not, woman, this is happening,” John warned her, crowding in front of the lawyer and wagging a finger in her face. “No way I’m letting you get in the way of my payout.”

  “I knew you were a weasel, John Dixon, but this is beyond even your usual capacity for callousness! Never mind what you’d be doing to me and Sam, kicking us out of our only home. What’ll happen to the animals?”

  John didn’t look any too worried. He waved a casual hand. “They said they’d provide for ’em.”

  “Like hell. Some of our llamas are so far out to pasture they need bifocals just to spit at you. You think some money-grubbing corporate hack won’t look at them and say, ‘bad for the bottom line,’ and send ’em off to slaughter?”

  “That ain’t my problem, Dorothy. No one asked you to encumber yourself with a lot of broken-down beasts that ain’t good for anything but burning hay. It’ll be a mercy on most of ’em anyhow.”

  “I’ll show you mercy!” Dolly made as if to charge her ex, but Merry wrapped an arm around her shoulders to calm her down.

  “Perhaps Ms. Manning is right, Mr. Dixon,” said the lawyer, putting a nervous hand on John’s denim-clad arm as well. “We’ve presented the proposal. I’m sure your wife is a reasonable woman—”

  “Ha!” scoffed John.

  “—and she’ll see w
hat a great opportunity this is, given time.”

  “Not too much time,” John said. “How long did you say this offer was on the table, Twat?”

  “It’s Watts, Mr. Dixon.” The lawyer looked pained.

  “That’s what I said. How long before she’s gotta get off her high horse and sign the papers?”

  “We’d like to set the wheels in motion before the holiday season. So by Thanksgiving, let’s say.”

  “How’s never work for you? Because that’s when I’ll roll over and show my belly to you, John Dixon!”

  John swiped his hat off his head and slapped it against his thigh. “You won’t sign? Fine. I’ll just stay at the ranch until you see reason.”

  “I’ll see you six feet under before you step foot over my threshold!”

  “It’s my property as much as yours, woman. I got every right. Ask as many lawyers as you want. I can outstubborn you any day of the week, and you know it. Unless…” He stroked his mustache again. “Unless you got the money yourself to pay me as much as they’re offering. In that case, you’ll see the back of me, fast as you like.”

  Dolly looked sick. Her bravado wavered. “How…how much did you say it was?”

  Watts stepped forward. “We’re prepared to offer four hundred thousand. That includes everything on the ranch. Animals, structures. Of course, they’ll want to demolish the main house and build something more suitable for their important guests.”

  Dolly gasped. “That hacienda’s near two hundred years old! Chief Manuelito stayed there during the Indian Wars! You can’t just come with a bulldozer and knock it down!”

  “It’s not up to me, Mrs. Cassidy.” The lawyer shrugged. “But I’m sure any historically significant items will be properly preserved.”

  Dolly didn’t look sure. She looked furious.

  “And if I fight it?”

  “That’s your right, of course. If you and your husband—”

  “Ex-husband!”

  “Yes, of course. If you and Mr. Dixon cannot come to an agreement as to the disposal of the property, that will be for the courts to sort out. Massive Euphemistics takes no stand on personal matters. But I do believe that a costly legal battle is not in anyone’s best interests. Such a case could take years to wind its way through the judicial system. Of course by then M.E. would have rescinded its offer. Right now management is very excited to take advantage of the word-of-mouth provided by Ms. Manning’s articles, so we’re willing to offer far above market price for the ranch. But years from now, without a buyer like us…well, it’s very likely that the actual value of the ranch would have been eaten up by the cost of legal representation.”

  “So if he wants to sell, but I don’t…”

  “Both of you lose. Yes.”

  Dolly had gone pale. So, for that matter, had Merry. Seeing her friend so cornered made her want to do battle on the older woman’s behalf. Yet it was her own fault that this battle had come to Dolly’s door.

  “Try to see this in a positive light, Mrs. Cassidy. We really believe it’ll be a net gain for the economy of your little town,” Watts said. “In previous acquisitions, we’ve found that once we establish a presence in an area, all the amenities of civilization soon follow. Highways, Walmarts, Olive Garden restaurants. That sort of thing.”

  Dolly wavered on her feet. Merry felt a surge of nausea. She’d wanted to help bring commerce to Aguas Milagros, but not at the cost of the town’s very soul. Bob, Jane, the hookers…and especially Steve and Mazel…There’d be no place for them in such a sterilized, strip-mall cultural wasteland. They’d hate it…and worse, they’d hate her for bringing it down on their heads.

  And Sam? Merry couldn’t bear to think of his reaction.

  “Admit when you’re licked,” John said, settling his hat back on his head. “Take the buyout, or I’ll take you to court for what’s left of your golden years, and you’ll end up with nothing.”

  Dolly snatched the proposal out of Watts’s hands. “I’ll look it over,” she said grudgingly. “Now both of you, get out of my sight before I lose my lunch.”

  “I’ll be back for your answer by Thanksgiving, woman. If you ain’t got the money to buy me out by then, we’re taking the offer from these Eugenics people—”

  “Euphemistics, Mr. Dixon—”

  “That’s what I said, Twat.” He turned to go, then shot over his shoulder. “’Less you got the cash, we’re taking the offer, and that’s that!”

  * * *

  Merry led Dolly to a folding chair at the rear of the booth, putting the cross-stitched “Back in Five Minutes” sign out on the counter. She patted the older woman’s shoulder, as if that would make it all okay. “I’m so sorry, Dolly,” she said, and once she said it, she couldn’t stop saying it.

  Eventually, Dolly’s expression went from empathetic to exasperated. “What’re you sorry for? You ain’t my evil ex. And it wasn’t you who dropped the ball on the divorce settlement. It was me who let things lie instead of checking to see that scorpion didn’t sting me on his way out the door.”

  “But he wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for me! Massive whatever-the-hell wouldn’t be interested in the ranch. Everything would be just the way it’s always been.”

  “And everything hasn’t always been rosy either,” Dolly said. “I haven’t liked to say, but…well, the truth is, we’re not ‘just scraping by’ like I claimed earlier. We ain’t scraping by hardly at all.” She took a kerchief from her pocket and swiped at her sweating face. “I haven’t even told Sam this yet, but the fact is, the Last Chance is about two mortgage payments away from kickin’ the bucket.”

  “Oh, Dolly,” Merry said. “And you’ve been carrying around this burden on your own all this time?”

  “I don’t like to worry folks,” she said tiredly. “Once, I might’ve talked it over with Bob, but he and I don’t see eye to eye anymore. Besides,” she said with more asperity, “it’s half his fault I’m in this mess, what with his orphaned-llamas-on-the-doorstep bait-and-switch.”

  Merry got the feeling this was more a source of sorrow for Dolly than she let on. They would make a great couple, she thought, if only Dolly could see her way clear to forgiving the man. But while Dolly might not forgive Bob, she was going all too light on Merry. “I’m so sorry, Dolly. I never should have come. First I couldn’t do the work properly, and now my very presence is endangering everything you and Sam have worked for all these years.”

  “Child, I hate to break it to you, but you ain’t that influential. Something always comes along to rock the boat, if you float down the stream long enough. If it ain’t one thing, it’s another.”

  In my case, Merry thought, if it isn’t one thing, it’s my mother. “Yes, but…”

  “Child, stop. Right now, I ain’t got the energy to comfort you and deal with this nasty business. So, if you really want to help, take your head out of your rear and help me come up with a solution.”

  Merry reeled as if slapped. God, she’s right. What a time to make everything all about me. Dolly doesn’t need mea culpas. She needs help. “I’m so—”

  “Say sorry one more time, child, and I’ll set Snape on you,” Dolly warned, but she patted Merry’s cheek to soothe the sting. “Put on your thinking cap and help me figure out what I’m gonna do so John doesn’t go smirking all the way to the bank and leave me without a ranch.”

  Right. Get a hold of yourself, woman. A thought occurred to Merry. “Are you sure you actually do want to head this off?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, maybe this isn’t all bad. You did mention you wanted to take some time off; travel the world. Might this not be your chance?” Merry asked hesitantly. “I mean, your half of the buyout would be two hundred grand, and that kind of money buys a whole lot of suitcases.”

  Dolly sighed. “It’s a great flight of fancy. I’ve got a stack of brochures a foot thick, full of places I’ve wanted to see. Only, who’d look after the fluffies? That stuffed shirt?” S
he waved in the direction the lawyer had vamoosed. “Some fool from back east who doesn’t know his alfalfa from his fanny?” Dolly shook her head. “And what about Sam? This is his home too. Where’s he supposed to go, if I sell out?”

  Merry couldn’t imagine Sam happy anywhere else on the planet. Maybe he hadn’t grown up here—his mysterious past on Wall Street still seemed unimaginable to her—but caring for his llamas, hanging out in his homemade hobbit hole—this was where Sam belonged.

  This is my fault, she thought. There’s no two ways about it. I brought these creeps down on them with my column. Like Sam said, I don’t think about the consequences of my actions, or take responsibility for the fallout. That’s got to change. She swallowed hard.

  “What if—hypothetically now—what if someone else did come along with a better offer? Enough to pay off your ex-husband, more than those Massive assholes were proposing?”

  Dolly sighed. “Like who? I ain’t exactly been fending off buyout offers with a stick. Nobody’s gonna pay as much as them for a struggling ranch in the back of beyond, no matter how charming it sounds when you write about it. Anyhow, I’d still have the same problem. Someone needs to look after the animals, and nobody takes in llamas these days. They’d all be for the slaughter, if I didn’t give ’em shelter. Plus, me and Sam still need shelter ourselves.”

  “What if you didn’t have to leave? If the new owner wanted you to stay on, and run it just like you always have? Like, they’d just be a silent partner or something.”

  “And who would that new owner be—hypothetically?”

  Merry took a deep breath. “Me.”

  An eyeball squinted at Merry from the Skype screen. It was bloodshot, but otherwise an excellent example of male pulchritude. “Squatchy?” It blinked. “Do you know what time it is here?”

  Merry didn’t even know where “here” was for Marcus. He could be anywhere from Brazil to Bombay, for all she knew. “No idea. Do you?”