Page 92 of Plentywood
“And what about you, sir?” Ben asked. “You lived and worked here for decades. Why would you go along with his plan?”
“Because I got nothing. My old lady ran off because I’m a jerk, and my own son won’t visit me anymore. I’ve been a selfish old fool, I guess.”
Dad turned away from me, and I supposed emotion got the best of him when I noticed his back heave as he fought the reality of his life.
Ben stepped behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Would you stay on and manage my ranch if I stop all of this, sir?” Ben asked. “I’ll figure out a way for you to have anownership interest in your house for as long as you live. But I need to assure that the ranch lives on for years and years so the town can thrive.”
Dad turned to face Ben. I’d never seen my dad tear up. Frankly, I didn’t think he had the compassion for such a reaction. “You’d do that?” Dad asked. “You don’t even know me, son.”
“I know him,” Ben said, gesturing to me. “He gets his strength and caring from someone. I’m willing to bet some of that kindness came from you.”
“Most likely his mother,” Dad corrected. “I never deserved her.”
Dad’s admission shocked me. He’d never admitted that to Mom. Perhaps she would’ve stayed had he done so. What I saw now was a broken old man who knew he’d fucked up. Maybe I could find some forgiveness somewhere in my own heart.
“Are these drills active, Dad?” I asked.
“Not yet,” he replied. “Senior is just waiting for Junior to bail eight months from now.”
“Not happening, sir. Sit tight and keep taking care of our ranch,” Ben stated. “I got you.”
We walked down the hill and Dad shook Ben’s hand. He stood nervously and glanced at me. “I’m sorry, son,” he said.
“I know you are, Dad,” I replied. We were both uncomfortable, not sure if we should, or even could, hug each other. “Meet me at the diner tomorrow, Pops?”
“I’d like that, son.”
Ben and I were halfway home and neither of us had spoken a word since we got into the Tahoe. I’m sure he had dozens of things on his mind, and I was so overcome with sentiment about Dad that I was afraid to speak and reveal my emotional state.
Dad looked beaten down. Like a billion-pound secret had been eating at him since he’d gone along with Ben’s father. Mydad loved Plentywood, and he loved the ranch more than life itself. I was certain of that fact. I’d been pissed at my dad when he told me the plan about agreeing to sell in the past, but I got his reason now. He was alone. He’d been afraid of ending up with nothing.
My throat constricted when I thought about my relationship with my dad. “You did a nice thing back there,” I whispered, fighting my emotional response to seeing my dad. “You are really something, Ben. You know that? And I love you because of your kind heart.”
“Let’s fix this problem, Hunt. Then we’ll fix our family after.”
“How do you do this?” I asked.
Ben turned to face me, and I saw he’d been crying. “And what am I doing?”
“You continue to amaze, baby. You are so much more than I could’ve imagined,” I said. “I realized these past few weeks that I’d been so wrong about you in the beginning. Trust me, I wanted you so badly back then, and it hurt. But God! What a special man you’ve become!”
“Ilikethis life,” he whispered. “IlikePlentywood, but Iloveyou, Hunter.”
I reached for his hand and turned back to the road. I thought about the day I’d seen the picture of Ben on the cover of the newspaper. My heart hurt that day because of the man in the picture. I remember saying to myself that I wished he was coming for me.
Maybe he had. But I think he may have come for all of us in Plentywood.
CHAPTER FIFTY: Benedict
“It’s late, baby boy,” Hunt said, squeezing my shoulders from behind. “And what are you staring at with that kind of concentration?”
I removed my glasses and turned away from a computer screen full of graphs and figures. My new team of attorneys hired an accounting firm to comb through the trust for the ranch’s financials. I was reading through the findings.
“He was bleeding money from the ranch as well,” I said. “Charging outrageous management fees and phony expenses for his own gain. The town lost out on millions of dollars annually under his conservatorship.”
“What does he say about it?” Hunt asked.
“Not much since I filed a lawsuit to regain the money. He’s gone silent on his end,” I said. “I’m sure he’s lawyering up as we speak.”
