Page 2 of Red Mountain Burning
Like a teacher reprimanding his favorite student, Otis shook his finger at Brooks. “You do, Brooks. You must. The burden is on you whether you like it or not. They may call me the grapefather, and perhaps I can carry that name. But they’ll bury me with it soon, and we’ll need someone who understands where this mountain is going. Think back to Burgundy. Think of the men and women who put their land before themselves, even during the great wars. You, Brooks, must preserve the resilience of ourterroir.”
Brooks watched a truck move slowly along Demoss Road. “I think we’ve found this mountain can take care of herself.”
“As much as I’d like to believe that,” Otis said, “every good piece of land needs a steward, like a good flock needs a shepherd.” Otis waved a hand in the air. “All this is yours. I need you to be here after I’m gone.”
It was impossible to imagine letting Otis down after all the man had done for him.
Brooks turned and looked to the top of the mountain. “Oh, c’mon. Don’t go saying your goodbyes yet. You’re not even seventy. Let’s have this talk in another decade or two.”
“I’m tired, Brooks.” Otis dusted the snow off his tweed cap. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll come back as a coyote to keep an eye on you.”
“I don’t doubt it, but that’s a long way off.” Brooks felt the weight of his mentor’s charge settle onto his shoulders.
