Page 91 of Plentywood
“The hell you are,” Dad erupted, repositioning his shot gun.
“What are you going to do, sir? Shoot me?” Ben asked, leveling his eyes at him. Ben glanced my way. “Sheriff, this is my land, so I’m asking you. Is it in my rights to go check out what that machine is?”
“As far as I know, it’s your right, Mr. Hawthorne,” I stated. “And if this man tries to prevent you, I’ll arrest his ass.”
Dad was madder than a hornet in a sprinkler, moving his head back and forth between us, snorting imaginary fire from his nose. Ben began walking up the slope.
“Get back here, boy!” he yelled, racing after Ben and fighting to keep up. “That is none of your business, you little fucker!” he hollered, staggering and mumbling as he tried to stay upright while he scurried up the slope.
I shook my head in disgust and chased after the both of them. Dad was easy to overtake, but Ben had a full head of steam and was racing to the top of the hill. By the time I passed Dad and caught up with Ben, he was standing by a machine that towered over both of us by at least a hundred feet in height.
“What is this, Hunt?” he asked.
Part of the machine that looked like a robotic arm was inside an open ditch in the earth, while the massive remaining piece was supported by huge steel pillars that could only be described as legs, and all four sat on a metal platform. Was this a drill for wells? The ranch had over thirty wells on it already and I could clearly see the pump house below us where the main house’s well was located, so I doubted they were digging for more water.
“Hunt?” Ben repeated. “What is this giant machine used for?”
“Get away from that!” Dad yelled, huffing and puffing as he caught up with us. “This is none of your business, so get off my land.”
Ben faced him and displayed what was probably the meanest face he could muster at such short notice. “This ismyranch, asshole!”
Dad was taken aback. Like me, he hadn’t thought this fancy-dressed man had it in him. I moved to the huge behemoth beside us all, my eyes moving up the towering mechanical device. It was definitely a drill of some type. I turned to face Ben when my eyes traveled across the land to the east. We were on top of a knoll and could now see hundreds of acres of land beyond.
“What the…?” I muttered, raising my hand and pointing in the distance.
Ben stood motionless as he scanned the horizon. “Holy shit,” he mumbled. “These things are everywhere, Hunt.”
I faced my dad. “You are not looking for water, Dad. What the hell are all of those machines looking for?” I demanded. “Andzerobullshit, old man. What are they?”
Dad turned away and studied the machines in the far distance. “You weren’t supposed to come out here, Junior,” he said, putting his hands deep into his pockets. “Senior is not gonna be happy about this.”
Ben stepped near my dad, also gazing at all the yellow monster-like machines across the ranch. “What are they, sir?” he asked.
Dad remained fixated on the view, whispering to himself under his breath for a few moments. Then he turned back to us, focusing on Ben. “I told him you’d eventually find your way out here. I told him his idea was fucking flawed,” he defended. “But I needed a place to live, Junior. I did this because I needed a house to live in when I’m too old to work anymore.”
“Dad, what are they?” I asked.
Dad kicked at the ground, seeming frustrated by the turn of events. “They found natural gas reserves. The exploratory drills are all over the ranch, son,” Dad said, exhaling slowly, dropping his hands to his sides in defeat. “Some geologist suspected huge reserves because the neighboring ranch has natural gas under it too. Old man Hawthorne had sample drilling sites commissioned, andson-of-a-bitchif there aren’t millions, maybe billions, of gallons underneath us right now.”
“Jesus!” Ben gasped. “Everywhere on the ranch?”
Dad nodded. “More drills coming this year. The gas is worth billions, Junior.”
Ben was confused by the entire scene in front of him. I sensed him digging through his mind with a million questions about what was going on and why. “He never told me,” Ben whispered. “But then again, I never asked either.”
“Your old man said you’d never suspect a thing. He actually referred to you as clueless,” he admitted. “He plans to sell the entire ranch to a huge energy company out of Texas.”
“But what about the house deal for you?” Ben asked. “Hunt told me you get the farmhouse.”
“I get ten acres by the road and the house if I cooperate,” Dad admitted. “When you leave next May, the terms of the trust would’ve been met. Senior could sell it.”
“Terms would be met? If I leave? How?” Ben demanded.
“Your gramma wanted you to visit Plentywood at least once. She put the ranch in trust for you because she figured you’d want to continue to support her causes in town once you visited here,” Dad began. “Your grampa never got over your old man leaving for college and then refusing to return. They decided that if another generation refused to return, then the ranch could be sold. But your gramma insisted that her only grandchild had to spend a year here before it could be sold. She insisted the terms be in the trust. She wanted the chance for you to see Plentywood. Then your dad found the gas.”
Ben looked wrecked as he listened to my dad. All the remaining blanks were being filled in and the answers he’d wanted came flowing forth from my dad. “My father knew I’d protest about coming here. And he knew I’d hate Plentywood once I did,” Ben said, crossing his arms and surveying the land. “He knew I wouldn’t ask any questions. And he figured that I’d bail as soon as I could. Next May.”
“He was planning on exactly that. When you leave after a year, the trust ends and reverts to Hawthorne Holdings. His company,” Dad said. “Your father wants the money and doesn’t give one single shit about this town.”
