Page 9 of Wed By the Lumberjack

The last Forester sibling to die was Buckee’s brother and Cali and Beau’s father. That left just Buckee who lived on the ranch alone. Through financial hardships, moving, and a lack of heirs, many Forester siblings sold their portions of land to Buckee, who was well off from his bull riding days. By the end, he owned the whole fifty acreage, and without heirs of his own, he promised his siblings he’d redistribute the land upon his death between the remaining Foresters. I doubt he told them of his little clause though.

“But why does it matter? Everyone dies Buck. Whether they have families or not.”

“That’s not my only point,” Buckee says. “There’s another reason I want the ranch to go to Foresters with families. I want the land to stay in the Forester family. Do you know how much of a headache it was when some family members were on their deathbeds without heirs? They wanted to divide up the land to sell to strangers or donate to charities. Look, I’m just as charitable as the next person, but our great-great grandparents bought this land when they first settled here. It’s been in the Forester bloodline for over one hundred years and that’s where it should stay. That’s why I bought them out. I know heirs don’t guarantee a smooth inheritance, but I hope that each Forester will raise their kids with the same mentality I have. That ranch is sacred. It stays in the family at all costs, and that can’t happen if there are no Forester families to manage and maintain it.”

Despite my father not having a legal claim to the ranch since his father sold out to Buckee before I was even conceived, he raised me to believe the ranch was holy ground and not just a hilly plain full of cow dung surrounded by a wild forest.

“Thank the heavens for Beau and Cali’s twins. The next heirs apparent.”

I struggle to not roll my eyes. “You're acting like we desperately need a crown prince to ensure the Forester dynasty.”

“That we do,” Buckee says. “Or crown princess. I’m not biased.”

“I hate to break it to you Bucks, but we’re lumberjacks, with pickup trucks, ten-year-old flannel shirts, and some axes. The land is beautiful but it isn’t Buckingham Palace where the next country's ruler will reside and births are urgent and dire.”

“Then why are you so upset that you’re not in the running for it,” he snaps. “And those boys are little Dukes in my eyes. The Dukes of Forester Ranch. Or they will be anyway.”

I pinch my nose bridge. “So nothing I say will make you change your mind about this clause?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

Buckee places a gnarled hand on my shoulder and I notice how alarmingly thin and fragile his wrist is.

“No. And if I truly thought you enjoyed having lumber as your mistress, I wouldn’t offer my advice. It’s true that some people don’t want families, and that’s perfectly fine, but that’s not you. And that’s not your cousins either. You may all hate me now but you’ll be thanking me later for the kick in the ass when I’m long gone. Besides, none of you are getting any younger. What are you, forty?”

“I’m not even thirty,” I deadpan.

“All the more reason,” Buckee says with a purse of his lips before unmuting the TV just as the happy couple arrives home from the hospital.

When I get back to Dixie’s room she’s awake and terrified.

I swear she jumps an inch off the hospital bed the moment the door cracks open and I slip inside.

She looks so fragile and small like that night she did in the treehouse. Even her expression is the same as she stares at me with round, wide eyes.

“It’s you. It’s just you.”

“It’s me,” I say gently, approaching the bed slowly. “Who else would it be?”

She looks to the window as if searching for someone, but when she looks back at me, her expression grows frustrated like she can’t think of who it is.

I press my finger between her eyebrows to force them to unknit, the way I did when we were kids.

“They’ll get stuck like that. Don’t think too hard tonight. Just rest.”

Before I can pull my hand away, she clings to my wrist.

“Will you hold me?”

My throat grows dry, my eyes darting to her full lips before I catch myself and look away.

The hospital bed’s pretty wide, but I’d still probably squish her a bit. That aside, the doctor said she’d get her memory back soon. What would happen if she woke up first and found me in bed with her? Someone who’s a grown man now and someone that she hasn’t seen in 15 years.

“Please.”

That one little word erases my resolve. I kick off my boots and climb into bed behind her, relishing in her warmth and softness.

She clutches my hand and presses it to her breast. To her racing heart. A minute passes before it slows, but her worried eyes are still flickering from the window to the door.

“You can sleep, peanut. I’ll be on the lookout.”

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