He nodded again. To call his father a sad disappointment was generous. What his father had done to him—to his mother—was unforgivable. But he didn’t like to talk ill of the dead. Hell, he didn’t like to think about his father. The man had taken too much from him when he was living. Now that he was gone, Click figured he had more important things to think about.
“After your folks died, she wrote this up and never wanted to change it.” Kevin Glenn tapped the will with one gnarled finger. “She laughed some, knowing you’d have the people so quick to judge you come calling in the hopes you’d sell her little piece of heaven.”
Click sat back then. “Sell?” he asked, still absorbing what was happening.
Mr. Glenn’s brows rose. “Hell’s bells, boy, this land is worth more than just money. To the Wallaces and the Boones, it’s about victory. Those two have been nosing around this place since before you were born. Now that there’s a chance they could get it, hold it over the other, you best be prepared for the squabbles and the offers to come rolling in.”
“Right.” He blew out a long, slow breath. Lynnie had brushed aside their offers, determined to hold on to her land—her only legacy. The fact that she wasn’t too fond of Woodrow Boone or Vic Wallace might have something to do with it. To Lynnie, Woodrow Boone was a self-important ass and Vic Wallace an unforgiving curmudgeon. Other insults included money-grubbing, unappreciative and bullies. Click had no reason to believe otherwise.
He frowned. Last time he saw Woodrow Boone, the man had been holding a shotgun, scowling at him.
He’d never met Vic Wallace, not formally. He and Brody had been bawled out by the man for shooting rabbits without permission. Even after Brody had explained he was trying to protect his mother’s garden from the varmints, Mr. Wallace had turned a cold eye on Click and blamed him for his son’s reckless behavior. He’d been asked to leave and not come back.
Selling Lynnie’s place seemed wrong—especially since he knew she didn’t want either one of them to have her place. But staying here, being smack-dab in the middle of a feud, wasn’t his idea of a peaceful existence either.
Lynnie had been his confidante. Then Tandy. Now he had no one. And no idea what to do. He studied the old man. “If you were in my shoes, what would you do?” C
lick asked the older man.
Kevin Glenn laughed. “I’d cool my jets and wait and see what the great and powerful Wallace and Boone were willing to throw your way. There’s no rush here, son. This is yours, period. Once you sell, though, there’s no going back.”
Pearl’s baby monitor crackled, the sound of her hiccups echoing in the kitchen.
“That right there is the only thing you need to focus on. That little thing don’t care if you’re living high on the hog or out of your truck. As long as she’s got you to care for her, she’s happy. You hold on to that, you’ll always be doing the right thing.” Mr. Glenn pushed himself from his chair. “I best be heading back before the missus gets fired up. I’m late for dinner, it’ll be a month before I hear the end of it.”
Click stood and walked the man to the door. “I appreciate you coming out here.”
He nodded. “People have been making bets about whether you or her cousin in El Paso was inheriting the place. Just so you know, once these papers are filed, everyone will know you’re the proud owner of Lynnie Hale’s ranch.”
“How long should that take?” he asked.
“Depends on Berta Santos, the county clerk. If she’s having a good day, before the end of the week. If she and her kids are fighting, could be a month.” He winked. “Night.”
“Night.” Click nodded at the older man, watching him make his way from the porch to his mint-condition 1976 Chevrolet pickup truck. It was a damn fine piece of machinery. Sitting next to Click’s truck, it was hard to miss just how sad a state his own truck was in. Rusted-out, mismatched doors, the liner of the cab falling down and radio that had next to no reception. But, most of the time, it got him from here to there.
For the first time in his life, he could buy a truck. Something new if he wanted to. Something with reliable air-conditioning and no short in the headlamp wiring. He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. Lynnie Hale had been one of a kind. His great-aunt had always gone above and beyond for him. Many a time he’d wondered at it.
Nate Hale, Click’s no-good son of a bitch father, had seen fit to visit only when he was dumping off Click, picking him up or looking for a handout. Lynnie had never batted an eye or turned the man out. Click hadn’t had much of a male role model, but he’d had something better. He’d had Lynnie.
He stared up at the stars overhead. “I know you can hear me,” he whispered. “I can’t thank you enough.”
He glanced at his watch, knowing Pearl would be hungry soon. And, if he hurried, they could still make the bonfire at Fire Gorge Ranch. Part of him was curious to see how Woodrow Boone would treat him, without knowing about his new inheritance. The other part of him didn’t give a shit about Woodrow Boone.
The same couldn’t be said for his niece.
“I don’t expect her to love me,” he said, still searching the night sky. “But, damn it’d help if I could get her to forgive me. And get her out of my heart.”
He pushed off the porch railing and headed inside. Pearl was chattering away over the monitor, so he headed into the bedroom they were sharing. She stood, gripping the edge of the port-a-crib he’d set up for her. She was busy pressing buttons on the play gym that was strapped to the crib’s side, happy as can be.
“You up, snuggle bunny?” he asked. He’d liked Tandy’s endearment. Try as he might, the name Pearl didn’t roll off the tongue. It felt too formal for this big-eyed, curly-headed baby girl.
She bounced, smiling and gurgling with enthusiasm. Her little hands let go of the crib to reach up for him.
“Hungry yet?” he asked, lifting her. “Bet you need a diaper.”
She blew bubbles, clapping her hands. “Da-gee, da-gee.”
Click smiled. “The doggie is with Tandy, Pearl.”