by Linda Warren
“Is that it?” Rico asked. “I need to get to work.”
“No, that’s not all. He asked if you would pick up his mail every day. He wants to pay you twenty dollars a month to do that.”
Rico gave a chuckle. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. That’s the message he gave me.”
“Then, I guess I’ll go over and pick up his mail every day, but I don’t want his money.”
“You’ll have to tell him that.”
Before he could leave, Falcon asked, “Did you notice what kind of shape that land is in?”
“It’s bad. It hasn’t been cultivated or fertilized in years.”
“I talked to his grandson in town not too long ago and he said they were trying to put Mr. McGregor in a home, but he was refusing to go. If the grandson is planning on selling that land, I was thinking about extending Rebel Ranch across the road.”
Rico was good at keeping his emotions hidden, but that morning disappointment must have shown on his face.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing, Rico. Your face changed when I mentioned it.”
He could do this. He could talk to Falcon. “Yesterday, as I looked around the place I thought it would make a good home for Ana and Dusty. I thought I would make an offer when the place came up for sale, but then I found out how much land there is and there’s no way I could afford that house and land.”
“You want that place? I’ll help you get it.”
“No. It will be a good addition to Rebel Ranch.” He swung toward the door.
“Rico!” Falcon called, getting to his feet. “Come back here!”
As always, when a Rebel gave him an order, he did it.
“Now, I’m going to talk to the grandson again and tell him when he puts that land on the market I want to be the first to offer a bid. And I’m going to make that bid for you. You want that place? I’ll make sure you get it. Understood?”
“Falcon—”
“Don’t worry about financing. Mom or I will go with you to the bank. We’ll help you make this happen. Whether that land is Rebel Ranch or in your name, it’s all the same thing. You’re a part of this family.”
Part of the family. He’d heard that so many times. They just didn’t understand that he wasn’t. Everything in him was pulling back, but then he thought about Ana and Dusty. He really wanted that house for them, but he wanted to be able to buy it himself.
But he had to be realistic. There was no way a bank was going to loan an ex-con, that amount of money. He needed the Rebels if he wanted that house for his family.
Once again he would be indebted to the Rebels.
* * *
AS SOON AS he got in his truck he called Ana and told her what had happened. She was excited, but they both were cautious about going into that much debt. He also told her about Mr. McGregor and that he would be a little late getting home tonight.
That afternoon around four thirty he pulled up to Mr. McGregor’s mailbox and took out a brochure from a car dealership in Temple. A driveway went around to the back of the house and that’s where he parked. He knocked on the back door and the Mexican lady let him in.
Mr. McGregor was in his bedroom sitting in a wheelchair, watching television. It was turned up loud. The old man turned it off with Rico entered the room.
“Jericho, come on in,” Mr. McGregor said. “Did you get my mail?”
He handed him the brochure.
“That’s it?” The wrinkles on the old man’s forehead deepened. He pointed toward the door. “She’s stealing my mail. I don’t even get my bank statements anymore. She’s looking at them.”
Going on what the Mexican lady had told him, he replied, “Mr. McGregor, I think your grandson has had your mail rerouted to his house so you don’t have to worry with it anymore.”
“What?” The old man shook his hand. “No. He wouldn’t do that.”
“You need to ask him.”
“Hand me that phone by my bedside.”
Rico handed him the portable phone, wondering how he had gotten mixed up in the McGregor family. Every time he helped someone it snowballed into much more. He really didn’t have time for this.
“You had no right,” Mr. McGregor screamed into the phone. “You’re an ungrateful grandson taking away all my rights. I’m not dead yet.”
The grandson had to be talking because Mr. McGregor sat in silence listening. Rico just wanted to leave, but he waited for some reason.
Finally, Mr. McGregor said, “Yeah. Yeah.” Then he clicked off and handed Rico the phone. “My mail goes to his house just like you said. Ungrateful brat.”
There was an antique chair not far from where Mr. McGregor was sitting. “Mind if I sit?”
“Go ahead.”
“Your grandson loves you. That’s why he’s trying to make your life a little easier by taking care of your business. Do you really want to pay a lot of bills?”
Mr. McGregor looked down at his wrinkled arthritic hands. “I know, Jericho, but it’s hard being old and useless.”
“If you let people help you, maybe that feeling would go away.” As he said the words it resonated with him. He did the same thing. He was always pushing people away, not letting them get too close. He could see himself in Mr. McGregor.
“I don’t need help,” the old man grumbled.
“You do need help.”
The old man hung his head. Suddenly, he asked, “How old is your son?”
“He’s four.”
“I was twenty-one years old when my boy was born right here in this house in this bedroom. Sadly, my wife was unable to have any more children. So we spoiled him. I raised him as a cowboy because I’m a cowboy. I’ve always been a cowboy and I’ll die a cowboy. Now my boy is citified. He calls, but we have nothing to say. This land will be passed down to him and he will sell it. It has no meaning to him.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. McGregor.” Rico didn’t know what else to say. He knew the old man had been hurt deeply and there weren’t enough words in the dictionary to comfort him.
“Were you always a cowboy?”
For some odd reason Rico started to tell the old man about his life. He never opened up to anyone but Miss Kate and Ana so it felt a little odd talking to a stranger. The words came pouring out and the old man just listened.
“I heard you were an ex-con,” Mr. McGregor said.
“I have a lot of anger inside for what happened to me, but I try not to let it show.”
“How do you do that?”
“By being grateful for what I have now. The Rebels accepted me for who I am when no one else would take a chance on me.” Rico got to his feet. He really needed to get home. “Be grateful for what you have, Mr. McGregor, and be grateful for the good life you had. You’ve had a lot of good years with your son and now your grandson. Just accept them for who they are. It’s clear they care about you.”
“Yeah,” the old man admitted. “They could’ve put me in a home a long time ago and I wouldn’t’ve been able to do anything about it.”
He patted the old man’s shoulder. “Grandpa Rebel always says you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. Think about it.” He walked toward the door. “I’ll check in from time to time to see how you’re doing.”
“Thank you, Jericho. Stop by anytime you want.”
As he drove away he hoped Mr. McGregor made the right decisions for himself. Being lonely and angry never did anyone any good. Rico knew that for a fact. He would be more accepting and open when people tried to help him, especially the Rebels.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ANAMARIE HAD HER doubts about opening the cake shop. She was spending a lot of money and they needed every dime if they were going to make an offer on the McGregor place. That night she talked to Rico about it.
“No, that’s your dream,” he said. “We can make that work. I’m just not sure about the land and the house.”
They were sitting in the living room talking like they always did.
“Okay, and I can sell my house. That should help with the down payment.”
He leaned forward in his chair. “As you know I had coffee with Mr. McGregor early this morning for a few minutes. And every time I talk with him I want to bring up the sale of the land to let him know that I’d like to make an offer, but I can’t do it. It just seems like ill-gotten gains. For me to make an offer Mr. McGregor has to die and...”
“Rico.” She reached out and touched his arm. “Let’s not think about it anymore. Just enjoy your visits with Mr. McGregor. When it happens, we’ll deal with it then.”
He caught her hand and pulled her onto his lap. She rested against him, enjoying the closeness that bonded them together.
“Mr. McGregor’s son and fancy gal, as he calls the wife, are coming for the weekend. He has Esther, that’s the Mexican woman’s name, cleaning out a bedroom for them. He’s excited like a kid at Christmastime.” His hand splayed across her waistline. “Are you losing weight?”
She sat up, running her hands down her body. “Yes. It’s all that running around with Dusty. I get a lot of exercise and I’m not at the bakery stuffing my face with kolaches.”
“You mean playing with Dusty. You’re one big kid yourself and I love that part of you.”
“Aw, you’re sweet, too.”
Happiness wasn’t a state of mind. It was something she felt all the way to her toes.
* * *
IN JULY THERE was a lot of hay to get off the fields. Monday was one of Rico’s full days and he was eager to get to work. He and Elias would be hauling hay all day. Before he could leave the office, Miss Kate called him back.
She stood up and came around her desk to talk to him. “I got a call this morning. Mr. McGregor passed away peacefully late yesterday.”
That bowling ball slammed into his gut again and sadness gnawed at his throat like it had so many other times. The last time Rico had seen him was Friday and Mr. McGregor was excited that his son and daughter-in-law were coming again for the weekend.
He swallowed hard. “When’s the funeral?”
“Rico, it’s okay to be sad. You befriended an old man who no one else wanted anything to do with.”
“He was very lonely and I know how that feels.”
She patted his arm. “But you’re not lonely anymore. You have us.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You’re part of this family.”
There it was again. Part of the family. Why didn’t he feel like he was?
“The funeral is Wednesday at ten in the morning.”
“I’d like the morning off.”
“Take the whole day and say goodbye to your friend. Paxton will be working that day for you and then he’ll take Thursday which is your day off. Is that okay with you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
That day he threw bales of hay onto the trailer a little harder, needing to release some of the sadness and frustration inside him. He wouldn’t let himself think about the land and the house. That didn’t matter anymore.
* * *
ON WEDNESDAY HE put on his starched jeans and white shirt and went to the funeral. Ana wanted to go, but she had to take care of Dusty. He had to do this alone.
A small crowd gathered at the Horseshoe Cemetery. Rico held back, waiting for the service to be over. When everyone walked away, he went to the grave and laid a small bouquet of flowers on it.
“Rest in peace, Mr. McGregor. You’ve earned it.”
He turned around and came face-to-face with Mr. McGregor’s son. Rico knew who he was because he looked just like his father. Tall and thin, he had a thatch of balding gray hair.
He held out his hand. “You’re Jericho, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” He shook the man’s hand.
“Thank you for what you did for my dad.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Oh, but you did. My dad has been mad at me for a lot of years and he would barely speak to me when I would visit him. That broke my heart and I didn’t know how to change it. I lived with the fear that he was going to die being mad at me. Then all of a sudden he’s calling and he hasn’t called me in forty years. I’m the one who does all the calling. He wants us to come visit. When we get here, he’s all nice and talking about old times. He’s even talking to my wife and I don’t think he’s ever said two words to her. He calls her fancy gal to her face.”
“Yeah. He told me that.”
“I asked him why the big change and he said a wise man named Jericho told him to be grateful for what he had. I kind of thought he made this character up, but Esther said you were a real person. So, Jericho, my dad died a happy man. And not mad at me anymore. Thank you.”
He shook Rico’s hand vigorously and walked away to a black car parked at the curb.
Rico drew a deep breath and went home to Ana.
* * *
ON MONDAY MORNING Miss Kate called him back again as he was about to go out the office door.
“Rico, I talked to Robert McGregor, Mr. McGregor’s son, last night about the McGregor property and he said they’d already made plans for the land. I’m sorry. We weren’t quick enough.”
He felt a pang of regret that he hadn’t mentioned the land to Mr. McGregor, but Rico wouldn’t have done it any other way. He would’ve never been disrespectful to the old man.
“I guess it wasn’t meant to be, but thanks, Miss Kate, for trying.”
He called Ana as soon as he could and told her what Miss Kate had said.
“I’m sorry, Rico. I know how much you wanted that land.”
“Yeah. But it was out of our price range.”
“We’ll find something else. Hopefully by the time the wedding comes around. You know, we can always move into my house.”
“I don’t want to live in town. I’ve been countrified for a long time.”
“Then we’ll find something.”
“I’ll be home by five.”
Everything he had ever wanted seemed to be just within his reach, but then it was always snatched away and he was left feeling a loss he couldn’t explain.
But he had Ana and Dusty. They would always be a constant in his life.
* * *
ON HIS NEXT day off, Rico wanted to start on the cake shop, but Anamarie wanted him to rest. So they compromised. They slept in and had a late breakfast and then they packed their things to go to the office space.
They heard a car drive up and then another. “Wonder who that could be?” Ana asked Rico as he slipped into his boots.
Rico got up and opened the door and was surprised to see Wyatt, Gabe, Rachel and Egan standing there.
“What’s going on?” Rico asked.
“Can we come in?” Wyatt countered.
Rachel slipped past them and went to Dusty. “Come with me,” Rachel said and picked up Dusty and left the room.
Rico let him go because he knew something was wrong. Since Gabe was here that meant it had something to do with the adoption. Maybe he’d been denied. But then, why were Wyatt, Rachel and Egan here?
Ana came and stood beside him, taking his hand. He squeezed it tightly.
“What is it?” he asked in a steady voice.
Silence filled the room like a bad smell and everyone seemed to step away from what was happening. Finally, Wyatt said, “Darlene Miller is out of prison.”
A new kind of fear gripped Rico. “What? How did that happen?”
Wyatt cleared his throat. “A pro bono eager-beaver attorney who wants to make a name for herself got the other girl to admit she was the one with the drugs. Two other inmates backed her up on that. Then she go
t the parole board to listen to Darlene’s story and they believed her. She’s out.”
“Well, she’s not getting anywhere near Dusty.” Rico was firm on that. She’d given up her rights and now she had no rights.
Wyatt cleared his throat again. “There’s more. She got that same lawyer to file a petition in Family Court here in Horseshoe. Judge Carvel heard the case and listened to Darlene. He gave her back her maternal rights due to the stress she’d been under hearing about her mother’s death. He granted her full custody of Dusty.”
“No! Don’t do this, Wyatt.”
“Rico—” Ana clutched his hand and turned to Gabe. “They can’t do this. He’s our baby.”
“How is she going to take care of him?” Rico asked.
“The state got her an apartment and a job in Austin and CPS will check on them regularly.”
“Well, isn’t that great?”
“Darlene and Ms. Henshaw are waiting at the courthouse. You have to bring Dusty in. Pack his things.”
“No, I don’t. Just give me five minutes and we can be gone and you’ll never find us.” Fear echoed with every beat of his heart. They couldn’t take his kid. He couldn’t let them do that to him and Ana.
“I can’t do that, Rico. I have to uphold the law. And the law says Darlene Miller gets her kid back. I’m sorry.”
“I thought you were my friend.”
“I am. That’s why I don’t want you to go back to prison.”
Egan rubbed Rico’s shoulder. “I know this is hard, but you have to do this. I’m right here if you need me.”
Egan was the best friend he’d ever had in his whole life and Rico knew he was looking out for Rico’s best interest. How did he let go of a little kid he loved?
“It would kill me if you had to go back to prison. Please, just pack Dusty’s things and we’ll get through this.”
Ana silently cried beside him and like always he felt the walls closing in. There weren’t any other choices for him. He had to let go. And in doing so it would take a part of his heart that he would never get back.