Page 19 of Buckled in Barbwire

“But?”

“This is a family business,” Dad continues. “That’s our core principle. The roots that grew a small livestock operation into a legacy. We have to honor those values.”

“What do you call this?” I motion between us.

“The end of our line unless you produce the next generation.”

My brain scrambles. The concept of starting my own family to keep our empire thriving isn’t lost on me. I knew that’s a factor I’d have to consider, but in the distant future. Not while I’m still barely getting us back on track.

“Where is this coming from all of a sudden?”

His sigh is thick while he combs through his thinning hair. “It’s not a secret that I’ve been absent since your mother passed. You’ve done well picking up the slack, proving you’re capable of handling the pressure. I owe the success of this company to you. But it also got me thinking about our situation. What happens once I’m gone? Life is a precious gift that can be stripped away in an instant. Our time on this earth isn’t a guarantee. I need to know our name won’t die with us.”

“Dad—”

“I want you to get married,” he interjects. “And if it’s not too much to ask, I’d like to be a Pappy before I go.”

Laughter spews from me in a raucous wave. The release feels good, until I notice my father isn’t joining in the hysterics. That sobers me faster than an ice bath. “You can’t be serious.”

“I wouldn’t joke about the state of our fortune.”

The wind gets sucked out of me. “I’m not getting married.”

“Well, not right this second. But I’m hoping we can negotiate a speedy ceremony.”

“My answer is no. Period.”

His exhale is resigned. “Be reasonable, son.”

“What you’re asking isn’t reasonable,” I bellow.

“It’s perfectly acceptable to have contractual demands. Call me sentimental, or senile. This is what I’m requiring of you to take ownership of Benson Farmstead.”

“Sounds a lot like coercion and bribery.”

Dad smirks, unbothered by my temper tantrum. “Call it whatever you’d like. Won’t change the fact that I have stipulations.”

“You can’t expect me to go along with this.”

He shrugs. “Nobody is forcing you.”

“I’ve earned this spot.” My finger jabs the desk.

“Sure, but it’s not officially yours.”

“My own father is blackmailing me.”

“It’s just business,” he states casually.

“This isn’t the way I run our company.”

“You’ll be free to make changes soon enough. Or not,” he taunts.

“Thanks for plunging the knife deeper, Dad.”

“Hold your horses, son. I want you to be the one who carries on our legacy. You’re damn good at the job. Nobody is discrediting that or trying to overthrow you, regardless of what you’d have me believe.” The stern edge in his tone is almost comical.

That bogus attempt to shake Dad from the funk is biting me in the ass. “It wasn’t far off. Jimmy is constantly on my ass about money. Where do you think the bonus structure came from?”

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