“Noted,” Luke said. “So,” he said, popping the top off another beer, “what happened with the ranch, Dad?”
“On that note,” Leo said, backing away from the table, “I’ve got a date with the Hounds of Hell.” He scooted back with his remote control, banging into the little bar, then scraping against the door as he pushed his way through.
Luke’s father sighed. He rubbed his face with his hands, rearranging his features and, for a moment, looking younger than his fifty-eight years. But then his flesh slid back into familiar sags and folds. “I got myself into a deal.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Cooked it up with Grant Tyler. You remember him?”
“Vaguely,” Luke said. What he remembered was a rotund guy with a booming laugh, nothing more.
“Grant knew that I needed cash to pay for Leo’s expenses that aren’t covered by Medicaid. Like that fancy bed in there. My credit is maxed out, Luke. I couldn’t borrow enough to buy a shovel. The only thing I had was the ranch. So Grant, he’d done pretty well for himself in some deal, and he said, ‘Look, let’s just do a sale. I’ll give you the cash you need and hold on to the title until you’re able to sell some cattle or whatnot and get on your feet. Then I’ll sell it back to you for the same price.’ It was sort of like a second mortgage, a way to get me some cash. So we did the deal, and everything was good. I sold part of the livestock and paid off some debt. I was building up again, getting ready to get the ranch back when Grant up and died.”
“Okay,” Luke said. So far, nothing earth-shattering. “So there was a deal, and he died, but you have all the paperwork on it, right?”
“I’ve got paperwork for the sale. But we didn’t have a written agreement that I would buy it back for the same price he’d paid.” Luke must have looked as shocked as he felt, because his dad said, “We were friends, son. We had each other’s word, and that’s all we needed.”
And there, in the distance, was the sound of the earth shattering. Luke’s heart sank. “Dad, you always need a written agreement.”
“Well I know that now,” his father said a little irritably. “But I didn’t think so at the time. He was a good friend and he was doing me a tremendous favor.”
Luke looked at the dingy window above the kitchen sink. “Why didn’t you tell me you were having trouble?” he asked calmly. “I could have gotten a loan. I could have helped you.”
His father sighed. “Come on, Luke. You’re in the middle of starting your own business. You’re in school. You have your own problems, your own credit to worry about. You’ve got people backing you up that you have to think about. And you already pay for Marisol—you don’t need my problems on top of that.”
“But I’ve got some money put aside,” Luke argued. “I’m doing pretty good. Dad, we’re family—”
“Luke,” his father interrupted sharply. “I know you mean well, son. But I already have one child who can’t fulfill his dreams. I’ll be damned if I’m going to have two.”
Luke clenched his jaw. He stared down at the table, away from his father’s gray eyes. “I still don’t get why you left the ranch to come to this cracker box.”
“Because a fellow named Jackson Crane came to see me. Said the estate had passed on to Grant’s kids, and they were coming in for a powwow, and he suspected they’d want to sell. He said given the circumstances it was probably best we get out of the way while everyone decides what needs to be done. He knew about this house and I rented it for dirt cheap.”
Luke could believe that. “What about Ernest?” he asked, referring to their long-time cowboy. For all of Luke’s life that he could recall, Ernest had lived in the bunkhouse and taken care of things when Dad couldn’t.
“Oh, Ernest just went down to Albuquerque to see his mom. He’ll be back. Jackson Crane is keeping him on.”
At least there was some good news. Ernest had been with them so long that Luke suspected he had no place to go. But the rest was more than Luke could absorb in one sitting. He stood up and walked to the sink, staring out at the patch of back yard. “So who the hell is this Jackson Crane guy, anyway?”
“He was Grant’s guy. A business manager.”
“He had a business manager, and none of this was written down? Grant essentially loans you money and you put up the title, and nothing about the loan agreement is recorded?” Luke turned to his dad, but Dad’s head was down as he pushed thick fingers through his thinning hair.
Luke’s shoulders sagged. His father was a good man, a great dad, a steady provider. But what he knew was ranching. Not real estate. And Mom had always been the one who kept their finances in check. “Okay, look, Dad, I am going to talk to this Crane guy,” Luke said. “I’ll talk to the heirs, too. I think we can all be reasonable about this. We’ll work something out.”
“Maybe,” his father said with a shrug.