Page 55 of Peaches

Kasey, though, stays in control. “We were hoping to ask you a few questions about the ranch,” he says matter-of-factly. “About the land trust.”

This catches my father’s attention. “The trust?”

Kasey nods. “A lawyer stopped by last week looking for you. And then we got a letter in the mail. A summons.”

Dad frowns. “What’s the lawyer’s name?”

“Stuart Brown.”

“Don’t know him.” He shrugs, like that’s the extent of what he can do for us.

“What do you know about the details of the land trust?” Kasey tries.

“Not much to know,” Dad gripes. “The land is ours.”

“Cut the bullshit,” I say, a little louder than intended. Dad’s smokey eyes find mine again, and I see the welcome challenge in them. “There’s a lawyer who is looking for you about the ranch. There’s gotta be a fucking reason. Did you gamble the deed at some point? Make enemies with another ranch? What about your brothers—would they try and take it?”

A flicker of something cold registers on his face before he tries to hide it. His gaze falls to the carpet beneath his socked feet and he takes a deep breath. “My brother, Huck . . . he’s always been a jealous man. Especially when it comes to this ranch.”

“What do you mean?” Kasey asks quietly.

Dad lets out a humorless laugh. “He was always the serious one. Smart with books and money, not great with instinct or the horses. But he didn’t care much about the animals. He just wanted the business. Wanted to sell us all out and turn the ranch into some stupid tourist trap. And if he’d been born first, I’m sure that’s exactly what he would have done. Luckily for everyone, I was.”

I snort, shaking my head. It’s not news to us that the eldest Bennett of the brood inherits the bulk of the ranch and operations, something Brooks has been preparing for his whole life. The rest of us will profit from it, more so if we stay on and work with him. He doesn’t officially take over until our parents formally retire, and I’ve done nothing over the years to hide the fact I think Brooks should ask Dad to do just that.

We’ll always make sure Mom is taken care of, whether Dad’s running the ranch on paper or not. But I think Brooks has wrestled with guilt about making that move, especially with Dad’s disability. He has his own complicated relationship with Dad, since Dad had a pretty long stretch of sobriety during Brooks’s formative years. They . . .bonded, in ways I never got the chance to. Kasey benefited from those good years too, I think. It’s what makes it so hard for us to understand each other when it comes to our father.

“Huck knows I’m in a chair,” Dad says. “He’s probably looking for a way to weasel his grubby hands in.”

Kasey frowns. “But . . . Brooks is next in line to take over.”

Again, something flashes across my father’s face, and it looks a lot like fear. “Despite his inability to gain control of the ranch, Huck’s done pretty well for himself. Last I heard, he’d built a little empire out in Dallas. But he was always scheming under my nose, getting himself nice and cozy to Mayor Moore and Sheriff Jones with his dream of what this place could be and what it could do for the town.”

And he never thought to mention a threat like that? Fucking figures. “What does any of that matter if Brooks is taking over?” I demand. “I mean, there are five of us . . . there’s no shortage of successors.”

The bedroom door creaks open behind me, and I whip around to find Mom walking into the room. Her eyes bounce around at all three of us as a grim line sets in her mouth. And then she moves to stand behind my father, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re here about the letter?” she asks Kasey.

He nods before looking back down to where Dad sits in front of her.

Mom surprises us both when she, too, turns her attention to our father and says, “I think you need to tell them, Bud.”

My eyes snap to hers. “Tell us what?”

Dad sighs, and the sharp heat of anger coils through me like a venomous snake. “Four generations ago, there were . . .rulescreated around how the ranch transitions to the next generation. The oldest child has the right to it by default, as you boys know. But there are stipulations about the inheritance, old bylaws that we have to adhere to about who can rightfully take over.” He fidgets with a wrinkle in his pants, pressing the pads of his fingers over it to smooth it out. “I’m fairly certain the Bennett line has always possessed its share of recklessness, because one of those stipulations exists to make sure the one who inherits the property is supported as best as possible.”

“What does thatmean?” Kasey barks out.

Dad looks right at him when he says the word. “Marriage.”

Silence falls over us again as we consider what he means. And then Mom chimes in again. “Your great-great grandmother saw the flaws of her husband and knew, if left to his own devices, he would have run the ranch into the ground.” She gives Dad a knowing look. “She was a fierce old woman who forced few of her own opinions into the details of the inheritance trust when it was created.

“She believed that any firstborn Bennett—man or woman—who wanted to take over the deed would need the structure of a life partner to be successful with the weight of responsibility the ranch entails. Marriage, in every sense. It also ensured that new generations born into the inheritance would be raised in a nuclear family setting on this very ranch.

“Traditions were different back then. And while your father and I have never cared about what your futures look like, who you choose to love or how you choose to love them, wearebound by the rules of the trust. I personally would love to take a red pen to some of the nuances of it, but as the woman of this household and your father’s wife for almost forty years, I can understand where the old bird was coming from. How our marriage has kept the wheels on the track over the years.”

We all know what she’s not saying: when Dad was too drunk or angry or miserable to be responsible for anything, Mom kept things moving. Kept us boys on track.

Something still doesn’t make sense. “Brooks is married,” I say to no one in particular.

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