Kit softened his good-ol’-boy grin until his jowls sagged. Blinked at me with puppy-dog eyes. “I sure am sorry about your daddy, Mercy. I know it’s got to’ve been hard, coming back here after Wyatt’s death and handling all this stuff, the ranch, your sister-bless her soul-and the estate legalities. Lot of responsibility for a single woman.”
I didn’t have to guess what Kit was getting at. Surprised me it’d taken him a month to get around to it.
“I saw Hope at Besler’s grocery. She told me she’s anxious for you to make a decision on what you’re gonna do with the ranch.”
“Did Hope talk to you about it?”
“Yep. Sounds to me like you might be convinced to sell.” His eyes searched mine. “That true?”
“What’s it matter to you if I sell it or not?”
“Well, now, I’m glad you asked. ’Cause I’ve put together a sweet opportunity. It’s real exciting.”
“Real exciting,” Hi chimed in.
They paused, letting the silence build drama.
I made the on-with-it gesture. With my gun.
“First off, let me tell you I know better than anyone what this ranch means to the community. It’s a piece of living history. We’d all like to see that history preserved, Mercy. In a beneficial manner to the Gunderson family, for all they’ve done over the years.”
I muttered, “What a bunch of bullshit,” but old Kit heard something else because he beamed an indulgent smile.
“Saddens me to see young folks being forced away from the country way they was raised in because they can’t afford to ranch. Either because their older brothers and sisters are carrying on the family traditions, or because the price of the land is too damn high for a young couple just starting out. I’d like to keep some of them around here and offer them the same chance that was given to their daddies and granddaddies. Keep the community young and thriving.”
“I imagine you’ve got something in mind?”
Dollar signs lit his eyes. “As a matter of fact, I do. I’ve rounded up a group of investors that would like to buy the Gunderson Ranch from you. In its entirely.”
“Yeah? What are their plans for it?”
“We’d keep a large chunk of it intact. The rest we’d parcel out, about five hundred acres each. It’d give some of these young ranch couples a place to start.”
Five hundred acres might mean a lot of land in fertile prairie-farming communities, but as far as ranching in western South Dakota? Forget it. Not enough room to run a decent herd of cattle. Not enough cattle meant not enough money to live on. Which meant the people buying the land wouldn’t be ranching.
In essence, he was proposing to turn the “historic” seventy-thousand-acre Gunderson Ranch into a bunch of hobby ranches. Where white-collar professionals could play cowboy. Dress up in new Wranglers, fancy cowboy boots, and custom-made hats. Talk about low cattle prices, the lack of moisture, the high price of feed. Build a half-million-dollar house next to the quarter-million-dollar barn where they could stable their expensive hobbyhorses and fleet of top-of-the-line ATVs.
They’d throw branding parties in the spring. Sit in air conditioned- three-season porches in the summer and watch satellite TV while chatting on their cell phones about “real” country livin’ with their stockbrokers. Then in the fall, they’d invite their buddies with purebred Labrador retrievers for a week of roughing it out West to do some real hunting.
God. Maybe I was channeling my friend John-John’s abilities to see visions. A shudder ran through me. I actually felt my dad spinning in his grave.
What bothered me more than Kit’s offer was Hope discussing our private family business with this big mouth. No wonder everyone in the county gossiped about my intentions. No wonder Dad left the final decision about the fate of the ranch to me and not my flaky sister.
“Whatcha think? Would you be willing to sit down and talk to the investors?”
“Sure.”
Kit looked so happy I was afraid he’d lay a big honking kiss on me. Eww. I’d pop him one first, and not necessarily with my fist.
“When?”
“That’s the thing, Kit. A group from Florida has asked to come and check the place out.”
His white eyebrows rose clear to his hairline. “Florida? How’d they hear about it? Why would you even be talking to them kinda folk?”
I shrugged. “Don’t know how they heard, but they offered to buy the whole property, sight unseen, as an investment.” I grinned nastily and lied, “In cash.”
Now old Kit looked like I had plugged him in the heart with my trusty gun. “B-but. You ain’t seriously thinking about it, are ya?”
“Yes. Seems these other folks really do have the Gunderson family’s best interests at heart.”
Kit’s sagging shoulders snapped straight with indignation. “You saying I don’t?”
“I’m saying none of the people who have contacted me are pretending they want this chunk of land for any altruistic reasons.”
“But-”
“You think I’m stupid, Kit? You think I don’t know what this land is worth? You think because you paid me a personal visit I’ll be inclined to sell it to you? Or will you bring up my daddy and your great friendship with him and lie about what he would’ve wanted?”
His brown eyes turned as cold and hard as frozen cow chips. “For years your daddy hoped you’d come back here and take over. Except we all know he was delusional when it comes to you and your crazy sister.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to defend Hope. No one had the right to call her crazy but me.
But Kit wasn’t finished. “You always thought you was too good to stick around these parts. You couldn’t even be bothered to show up before your daddy passed on. No big surprise you’re finally back here, now that you don’t have to look him in the eye as he was wasting away to nothing. I’m glad he ain’t around to see the heartless creature you’ve become, God rest his soul.”
Wind rustled through the elm leaves. A drawn-out, high-pitched hawk’s screech made me twitchy.
Hiram moved in. “He don’t mean it, Mercy.”
I stared at Kit. Revulsion stared back at me. “Yes, he does. So now that I know how you really feel, Kit, don’t hold back.”
“Fine. Here it is: you don’t know all the problems you’d be causing if you sell out to someone who ain’t local. Who’s it gonna hurt? Your neighbors. Remember them? The ones who helped out your family when your mama died? When your daddy’s diabetes got so bad they chopped off his leg and he couldn’t take care of this place? When your granddad nearly lost everything in the dirty ’30s? Oh, and let’s not forget way back when your great-grandma Grace nearly lost her mind.”
Seemed old Kit knew my family history better than I did.
When he spit a wad of tobacco out the side of his mouth, I expected to see a forked tongue.
“Think those fellers from Florida give a rip that your daddy’s been letting the Marshall family hunt here off-season so they don’t starve in the winter? Them rich snobs will close the land off to all hunting except for their bigwig buddies.
“Sure, they’re willing to pay you top dollar. They don’t have to worry about some damn conglomerate moving in next to them, sending ag-land values through the roof and forcing them out of their heritage. By then they’ll probably already have bought up half the damn county and sent the people who’ve lived in this area for generations into town so’s they can work for Wal-Mart.”
His venomous declaration wasn’t a revelation to me. So far he’d been the first person to voice his concerns to my face. For that alone I ought to have given him props. I might have, if it weren’t for the sneaky-ass way he’d gone about it.
Oh, and his shitty opinion of me and my family.
“You done?” I asked coolly.