by D. R. Graham
“Maybe. I don’t know.” I wander over and grab the horn to get back up on Zorro. “I’m going to call the Sherriff’s office and ask if they’ll send someone out to take a look.”
“That’s a good idea. And be careful. Maybe they’re still out there somewhere.”
Right as she says that Zorro’s ears flick to the side to narrow in on the sound of someone riding up from behind us. I turn in my saddle to see who it is, but the sun is in my eyes, so all I can make out is the silhouette of two people on dark horses. “Hey, Della, is it all right if I call you when I get back to the ranch house?”
“Sure. Is everything all right?”
“Yeah. I think so,” I say as I reach for my rifle. “I’ll call you later.”
As the riders get closer, I recognize Tracy and her older brother Mike, so I slide the gun back down into its case. They ride up right next to me. Tracy smiles and combs her fingers through her hair. “Hey, Havie. It’s been a long time.”
I nod, wondering what they’re doing out here. Their family’s property borders ours, but they never ride out this way, she didn’t even cut through when we were dating because it takes longer than riding on the road.
“You look good,” she says as she takes a sip of water from her canteen.
I nod again, only enough to acknowledge that I heard her, not enough to encourage the flirtatious banter that she needs to accept doesn’t work on me anymore. “What are you two doing out this way?”
“We heard about your dad.” She points at the tire tracks. “The same guys have been poking around on our property, too, and several other properties in the valley. I already made a report of trespassers, but it’s a waste of paper at this point since I don’t have a tag number or vehicle description. You should take pictures of the tracks to build the case against them.”
“I already did. Who are they? Hunters?”
“No.” Mike dismounts and pulls a camera out of his saddle bag. “We’re not sure exactly who it is yet, but they’re not hunters. They’ve been illegally taking core samples.”
“For what? Oil?”
Tracy shakes her head as she scans the rock face just beyond the shoreline. “They aren’t drilling deep enough to test for oil. Uncle Lou thinks they’re most likely looking for gold.” She hops off her horse and trails her finger along a quartz striation in the rock. “Here. See.”
I dismount and walk over to check it out.
“This dirty quartz vein is an indication there’s iron in the seam, which means there’s a good chance there’s gold. That’s why they chose this spot to test.” She follows the tire tracks and climbs up into the brush, then points out a grid of holes in the ground. “They use core drills set up in the back of their trucks to pull samples and it leaves these tube-shaped holes.”
I walk through the brush behind her, studying the drill holes. At least thirty are lined up along the landscape in an equally spaced pattern. “I don’t get it. Why would they waste their time? Even if they find gold in the sample, they can’t mine here.”
Her eyebrows lift briefly to indicate she’s not sure that’s true.
“What? It’s private property. We own the mineral rights.”
Mike climbs up and joins us. “You might want to double check that, Havie. Two recent court cases ruled in favor of the commodities company because the ranchers hadn’t purchased the sub-surface rights when they bought the property.”
I frown, trying to remember if I’ve ever even seen the deed to the property. My dad and his two brothers inherited it from my grandpa and then my dad bought his brothers out. My grandpa was originally given the property as a gift from some rich guy because Grandpa saved the guy’s daughter from drowning. I don’t know if official paperwork even exists from that original transfer. “If a bunch of guys are driving around town in 4x4s with drills on the back, they shouldn’t be too hard to find.”
“Nobody in town has seen anything. We think they must drive in at night, work all day, and drive out again at night.”
“Look at this,” Mike says as he waves us over to the top of the ridge. He leans over to take a photo of something in the dirt. As I get closer the sun glints off the brass rifle casing.
Tracy catches up and glances at me as if it all makes sense now. “Your dad must have caught them in the act. Those bastards shot at him and spooked Zorro.”
Although it’s a possibility, and would explain what happened, there’s no motive. Worst they’d get for trespassing is a ticket. It doesn’t make sense that they’d want to tack on murder charges. “They weren’t likely the ones doing the shooting,” I say as I take my hat off and wipe the sweat from my forehead with my sleeve.
They both nod to agree that my dad shooting at the trespassers is the more likely scenario.
“So, what now?” Tracy asks Mike.
He shrugs. “Havie needs to trace the mineral rights for the property at the county clerk’s office.” As we walk back to the horses, Mike hands me a business card for a lawyer. “You might own the rights if the deed is fee simple. But since the prospectors have been out here, my guess is they either own a lease to the rights or think they can get it. This is the lawyer our dad has been talking to.”
I slide the card into my shirt pocket, wondering how I’m going to come up with the money for legal fees if things aren’t solid with the deed and the mineral rights.
We all mount up and head back to the trail. As Tracy trots to pull up next to Zorro, her horse Cheyenne rubs her forelock against my leg because she remembers me.
“So, Havie, how you been?” Tracy asks.
I nod to indicate that I’ve been fine but don’t make the effort to elaborate or ask about how she’s doing. Maybe I’m being rude, but today is the first day since the break-up that we’ve said more than two words to each other. And I know it’s not casual chit chat. She has an agenda.
We ride in silence for a while before she says, “Everyone’s been talking about your new girlfriend.”
And there’s the agenda. “Yeah? So?”
“You don’t have to get snarky. They’re saying nice things about her.” She laughs at my defensiveness. “I’m not sure when sweet and innocent became your type, but whatever. If she does it for you, to each his own. Is it more than a fling?”
I glance at her, in disbelief. She’s deluded if she thinks I’m going to talk with her about my relationship with Della.
When I don’t respond, she shrugs and adds, “Well, must be pretty serious to bring her home to meet your dad, huh?”
“Yup,” I say before riding ahead to end the conversation.
We all ride together in single file as far as the junction in the trail. When Mike and Tracy head towards the road, she turns to wave goodbye. I pretend not to notice because I’m still irritated with her. It would be better if she didn’t still get under my skin, and I admit I need to work on that, but she better not make Della feel uncomfortable in any way. I’ll be beyond pissed off if she tries to mess with Della.
Transitioning into a gallop I cut through the pasture back to the barn. After untacking Zorro, I cross the yard and enter the house through the back porch into the kitchen. Dad’s standing at the sink, washing dishes with one arm. Brewster was asleep on his blanket but shoots up and jogs over to me for pats.
“How’s Zorro?”
“Fine.” I scratch Brewster under the chin, then open the fridge and grab the milk jug. “Do you remember anything about trespassers out there?”
He glances over his shoulder briefly, too quickly to read his expression. He doesn’t answer the question, which means he does remember what happened and chose not to tell me.
“Okay Dad, you can drop the amnesia act. I found drill holes and a casing. You want to explain that?” I ask as I open the cupboard where he keeps the glasses.
He dries a plate with more attention than it needs and places it in the drying rack. “It was a warning shot. In the air. Just to let them know they should be on their way. Zorro spooked, an
d I lost the saddle because I was holding the rifle.”
“You didn’t feel it was important to tell me that?”
Without looking at me, he folds the dish towel and hangs it from the handle of the stove. Then he sits down at the kitchen table. “I didn’t want you to get it into your head to quit school and come back home to take care of things. It was just a few trespassers. I handled it.”
“You didn’t handle it. You ended up in the hospital. And they weren’t just trespassers. They’re prospectors who possibly have rights to our land. You’re not in any condition to be dealing with bullshit this dangerous. You have cancer, remember?”
His face registers a blind-sided shock for one beat but hardens before he shouts, “Yeah, it’s hard to forget that. But I’m not a damn invalid. I’ve been taking care of this land since I was a boy. And you’re not quitting school with only one year left because a couple of gold company men were sniffing around.”
“You didn’t even want me to do my MBA in the first place. What do you care if I drop out and move back now or in a year?”
“I didn’t raise no quitter.”
Brewster glances back and forth between us stressfully, concerned by the raised voices.
I shake my head and put the milk jug back in the fridge. “If the land is stolen from underneath us because of a loophole in the deed, there won’t be anything for me to come back to in a year. You get that, right?”
He nods, but I can tell by the way he’s avoiding eye contact that there’s more that he doesn’t want to tell me. “Go back to school. I’m handling it,” he says before he stands and leaves out the back door.
Frustrated by his stubbornness, I swing the door open and shout as he steps out onto the yard; “Lying unconscious in the dirt isn’t exactly handling it!”
He spins around to face me. “Why does everything always have to be an argument with you?”
“Me? You’re the one who refuses to talk about anything and then walks away when things get uncomfortable. Look in the mirror.”
“You know what I see when I look in the mirror? I see you, twenty years from now. You’re exactly like me, kid.”
“Yeah. Really? You’re forgetting one major difference.”
It’s a low blow. And I instantly regret it. He glares at me, then walks away and disappears into the barn. Frustrated with myself as much as him, I slam the door shut. God damn he knows how to make me mad. But I have bigger things to worry about right now. I head straight to the laptop to research California mineral rights laws. Brewster stays in the kitchen, not sure which one of us he should follow.
Chapter 19
Della
Janine is late. Maybe she isn’t going to show up at all. I wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. I shouldn’t be meddling in her life anyway. But I’m keeping up my end of the bargain since Chuck did his part and spent hours tutoring BJ this week. Hopefully it pays off for BJ. Fingers crossed. His exam is this afternoon.
I glance around the cafe to make sure I didn’t miss Janine come in. I check my phone but no messages, not from her or Easton. He has been keeping me up-to-date on everything going on at the ranch and we’ve talked every night since he left. But I miss him, and I worry about how all the stress will impact his dad. Easton, on the other hand, is handling the whole mess with the same calm confidence he approaches everything. Except he did mention he lost his cool once with his dad and regretted it. He’s talked to a lawyer and hopes there won’t be a dispute that requires lawsuits and court dates, which is not only a pain and a financial burden, it will also interfere with his school work. And, although he didn’t say it, we both know it will leave no time for his relationship with me. I mean, obviously I know I’m the lowest priority on his list. And I get it. But I really hope it all gets settled quickly, and in Easton and his dad’s favor.
“Hey, Della.” Janine swoops in and sits on the barstool next to me, interrupting me from my daydream. “Sorry to keep you waiting. The bus was running late and my phone’s dead.” She waves her arm in the air to signal the waitress. “Cranberry scone and a latte, please.” Janine turns to me. “Do you want another tea?”
“Sure. Thanks. Mint, please.”
The waitress nods and turns away. Janine removes her jean jacket and fans her face with the menu card. “So, I was glad to get your text. Getting together was a great idea. But I’m assuming Chuck sent you.”
“Oh. Uh. Sort of.” I cringe slightly from the truth. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to see you, and it was technically my idea, but yes, Chuck is involved.”
“I figured.” She sighs and thanks the waitress as she serves the scone.
“Don’t worry. Honestly, I only told him I’d talk to you on his behalf, so he would help BJ study for an exam, which he already did. If it makes you uncomfortable, we don’t need to talk about him. Let’s just have tea and chat about other things. What do you study?”
“Medicine. Stem cell research.”
I blink, maybe a little too exaggeratedly, since she does not in any way fit my pre-conceived stereotypical image of a med student. “That’s really awesome. What made you become interested in stem cells?”
“When I was twelve years old my older brother was injured in a rodeo wreck. A bull came down on him and crushed his spine. He’s a paraplegic now, and although he leads a really full life and has kids and everything, I guess I always wished there had been a medical intervention that could have helped him walk again.”
“Wow. Your motivations are so noble. I mostly chose engineering because I was sort of good at math and wanted to prove my dad wrong.”
She laughs. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Did things ever go anywhere with you and Havie?”
“Yeah, actually we’ve been dating. And he’s great. Fantastic. Amazing. But he got called home because there was an emergency with his dad. He’s been gone for almost a week, and I’m not sure when he’s going to be able to come back. So, things are a little uncertain right now.”
“Sucks. But I can tell by the way your face lights up when you talk about him that it’s probably worth fighting for. Don’t give up.”
“Thanks for saying that. I’ll fight my hardest. How about you? Are things going well with the surfer guy?”
“Oh, God, no. He’s so boring. And he cries over everything. Like literally he shed tears because a pod of whales beached themselves in San Diego on the weekend.” She sips her latte. “But he’s cute. And that drives Chuckie insane.”
“Do you miss Chuck?”
“Yeah. But I don’t miss his cheating.”
Shoot. I just spilled my tea. Reaching for a paper serviette, I ask, “If he stopped cheating would that be enough for you to take him back?”
She shrugs and breaks her scone apart. “I don’t know. I doubt it, especially since the chances of him being faithful are close to zero.”
“Hmm.” I ponder as I dab the stain on the front of my blouse. “It’s weird that he cheats since it’s obvious he cares about you.”
“He has the attention span of a two-year-old and gets caught up in the moment. He doesn’t consider the consequences, for anything, not just cheating.”
“I don’t mean to pry, but why did you put up with it?”
She spins the advertisement card on the table, lost in thought for a few seconds before she answers, “He slept with other girls but never dated anyone other than me. It felt special to know that I was the one he called when he was upset about something. I was the one who met his parents. I was the one he wanted to take out to dinner and watch a movie with. Those other girls were just meaningless hook-ups. And at first, I was fine with that. But it’s not enough anymore. I want to be in a committed relationship now, and he can’t give me that.”
“Well, losing you made him realize what you meant to him. Moving on was the best thing you could have done to help him see that.” I tap the counter, thinking. “He’s book smart. Maybe he could learn strategies to be less impulsive and not cheat.”
“He wanted me to talk to you, so he must be at least somewhat motivated.”
She tilts her head with a less than convinced one-shoulder shrug.
“Okay, let’s approach this analytically.” I pull out a note pad and pencil from my bag to start a pros and cons list. “What qualities are on his cons lists?”
“Liar. Cheater. Immature. Selfish. Rude. Forgetful. Judgmental. Moody. Emotionally guarded. Not responsible enough to be a father.” She counts them off on her fingers and stops when she hits ten. “Those are the main ones.”
“Okay. That was easier than it probably should have been. And his pros?”
She stares out the window as she racks her brain. “I can’t think of any right now.”
“He’s educated. And he’s dedicated to rodeo.” I point the pencil in her direction. “And he’s kind of funny.”
She wrinkles her nose, so apparently those qualities don’t really tip the scales for her.
“How is he in bed?”
“Mediocre at best.” She laughs. “And you can tell him I said that.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think I will.”
“Not sure if it’s a pro or a con, but he walks like a cocky penguin.”
“I know, right?” I chuckle at the fact that I’m not the only person who noticed. “That’s a con,” I say as I write it down.
“Ooh.” She clasps my arm excitedly. “He’s rich. But—” She releases her grip as the glow from the one pro quickly fades. “It doesn’t mean much if everything else about him screams asshole.”
“Chuck’s rich? Why didn’t he offer to help cover the rent when the guys were desperate?”
“Well, to be more specific, he comes from a wealthy family. His parents don’t currently let him have access to the money because they know he’ll blow it all partying.”
I bite down on the pencil and study the list. Things are not looking good for old Chuckie. “What made you fall for him in the first place?”