Page 90 of Plentywood
My dad studied Ben carefully and then focused on me. “Why is he here?” Dad asked me. “I didn’t give permission for him to be here.”
“Ben wanted to meet you, Dad. He’s not here to bother you.”
“Why?” he insisted. “I don’t take orders from any Hawthorne but Senior.”
Ben stepped to the front of the truck and to my side. “I’m his son,” he said. “I wanted to check out the ranch, sir.”
“I know you’re his son, for fuck’s sake,” Dad countered. “But Senior didn’t say you’d be out here sniffing around while you’re in town.”
“So my father told you I was going to be in Plentywood, sir?”
“He did. Said you’d be here for one year only,” Dad said, slowly descending the steps.
One of Dad’s coon hounds shuffled off the ground near the bottom of the steps and joined him at his hip. Dad held the shotgun across his chest as he eyed both of us.
“Did my father tell you why I came to Plentywood?” Ben pushed.
“So he could sell the ranch, I assume,” Dad said, cupping his eyes and surveying the land around the house.
Unlike most farms or ranches, where the main house was the center of the farm with several outbuildings surrounding it, the bulk of the working ranch was three miles away. Massive buildings for equipment and livestock were located there. The ranch was so vast that there were several homes scattered around the ten thousand acres, where assistant foremen and workers lived as well.
I was unsure why Dad answered the way he did, so I decided to see what he knew about it. “Why does Ben being here have anything to do with the sale of the ranch, Dad?”
Dad’s eyes narrowed when I spoke. “Cut the shit, Hunter. What the fuck do you two want?”
Ben stepped closer to my dad, extending his hand. Dad simply stared at it and ignored the polite gesture. I kept a wary eye on him and one on Ben. Ben didn’t know what an asshole my dad could be, and I didn’t want Dad to hurt Ben’s feelings. I’d had a lifetime of being toughened up to him, but this was new for Ben.
Ben pulled his hand back and looked at my dad with disdain. “Maybe you know this, sir. Perhaps you don’t. But I own Triple H Ranch,” Ben stated. “And if I want to tour my land, I’ll do just that. So you can be respectful of your son and of me, or I’ll use other means to remove you. How would you like to proceed?”
I was stunned by Ben’s remarks. Here was a man who had many facets I hadn’t expected to see. He was smart. I knew that. He was incredibly empathetic. I’d witnessed that at the bar andhow he dealt with Charlie. But this man? He was direct and strong. What a serious contradiction to how he acted with me. Ben preferred a passive role, but I had to admit, his directness and firm way of speaking were hot as fuck.
My dad looked from Ben to me. It was obvious he hadn’t expected Ben’s approach any more than I had.
“Found a replacement for your deadhusband, have ya, Hunter?” Dad asked. “Another fruit to do your bidding?”
“That’ll be quite enough, Dad,” I hissed. “Ben is the owner of Triple H, and I have a feeling you already know that fact.”
“Yeah, I heard,” he muttered. Dad glanced at Ben. “But ain’t you heading back to New York City next May?”
“Maybe. Maybe not,” Ben replied. “What difference does it make?”
Dad pulled the toothpick he’d been chewing out of his mouth and eyed Ben suspiciously. There was something about Dad’s demeanor that worried me. He knew something, and he didn’t appear to want us to know. Perhaps it was a hunch, but I knew his conniving face well. I’d seen him manipulate my mom with the same expression many times.
“How’d you find out about the trust, kid?” Dad asked, flicking the toothpick to the ground. “Your old man said you was queer like my kid. Said you wouldn’t last a day in Plentywood.”
“Sounds like something my father would say,” Ben agreed. “And he’s right. I might not last until next May, but that changes nothing.”
Dad spit and adjusted his stance. I knew he was wondering what Ben knew and what Ben didn’t know. He was correct. We hadn’t connected all the dots just yet. “Is that right, boy?” he snorted. “I guess we’ll see about that come May.”
I glanced around the fields near the house while my dad peacocked and acted like the tough guy he thought he was. There was a large piece of equipment I’d never seen on a ridge aboveus, maybe an eighth of a mile uphill. The structure definitely had nothing to do with farming. “What is that, Dad?” I asked, pointing toward the large yellow machine. He didn’t look toward what I’d gestured at, purposely ignoring me. But Ben did.
“What is that, Hunt?” Ben asked. “Is it a drilling machine of some kind?”
I had no idea, so I turned to my dad. “Dad?”
“Nothing you need to know about,” he stated. “You fruits can leave now. And you can call your old man if you need more information,” he added, motioning to Ben. “Because I’m done yakking.”
“I’m going up there,” Ben announced.
