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Gabe almost choked. Was his father serious? The two men sitting across from him hadn’t grown up at the ranch. As children they’d moved six hundred miles away to Northern California and never once come back, ignoring the requests to visit their dying father and say goodbye.
He half listened to the rest of the reading. Violet Hathaway, the ranch’s livestock manager, along with the Dempsey housekeeper of twenty-plus years, were to retain their jobs. Lastly, there was a mention of selling shares to one another and how the profits were to be distributed.
Profits, right. What a joke. There weren’t any, and hadn’t been since August had become ill.
“Questions?” Hector asked, sounding a lot like a parrot.
Gabe shook his head. He would read his copy of the will later, when he was less agitated and better able to focus, though it wouldn’t make much difference.
The empty hole inside him ached. He’d admired, respected and loved his father with boundless devotion. Now he feared he might have been wrong. Whether his father had realized it or not, he’d forced Gabe into partnership with his brothers and, by the looks on their faces, they were as unhappy about the outcome as Gabe.
“Are we done?” Cole asked, his tone sharp.
“Not quite.” Hector set his briefcase on the floor by his feet. “There’s the matter of the trustee.”
“Trustee?” Gabe’s mother leaned forward. “What is a trustee?”
“The Dos Estrellas and August’s other property are actually held in the trust he established. As with all trusts, a person or entity is designated to oversee the trust and carry out the terms of the will according to the decedent’s wishes. Typically, the trustee makes the distributions, and, in this case, will oversee the management of the estate per August’s instructions.”
“Dad hired a manager?” Gabe couldn’t believe his ears.
“Not exactly. You and your brothers will run the ranch. But’s the trustee’s job to make sure you’re running it according to the terms of your father’s will. For instance, your mother and Cara continue to live here as long as they choose and Cara’s mustang sanctuary is protected.”
That sounded reasonable, Gabe supposed.
“You should know your father gave the trustee full financial powers until the ranch operates in the black for at least one full year, and all his medical bills are paid off. The trustee’s duties will end only then or if the ranch is sold.”
“I don’t understand,” Josh said.
“Essentially, while you and your brothers run the ranch, the trustee will be pulling the purse strings.”
If Gabe wasn’t already in a state of shock, this latest bombshell would have knocked him to his knees. His father had preferred for someone outside the family handle the ranch’s finances over his son? His sons?
“Who’s the trustee?” Gabe asked.
Hector waited a beat before responding. “The Southern Arizona Bank.”
Mustang Valley’s sole financial institution. Gabe was familiar with them, like everyone else in the community.
“Why?”
“A trustee is supposed to abide by the terms of the will.” Hector shrugged. “Unfortunately, they don’t always. It can happen when family members are put in charge. Emotions run high. As a result, some individuals choose an entity, such as a bank, or an attorney, to act as trustee. They tend to adhere more strictly to the terms of the will and keep emotions out of it.”
Perhaps Gabe’s father had the foresight to realize forcing his three sons into an unwanted partnership would guarantee high-running emotions.
The front doorbell rang, startling several of the room’s occupants. Not Hector. He made his way to the large, ornately carved wooden door.
“Who could that be?” Gabe’s mother moved as if to rise. “I specifically requested no visitors this afternoon.”
“It’s all right,” Hector said. “I arranged for the representative from the bank to be here today in order to meet you all and put your fears to rest.”
He opened the heavy door. It swung wide, revealing a feminine silhouette cast in dark shadows from the sun’s slanting rays.
“Am I early?” the woman asked.
“Not at all, come in,” he said. “We’re ready for you.”
Gabe blinked as the representative stepped across the threshold, convinced he was seeing things. It couldn’t be. This had to be a mistake. Or someone’s idea of a sick joke. He wasn’t sure if he should shout in protest or laugh out loud.
Hector took the young, professionally dressed woman by the arm and led her to the center of the room as if she were on display.
“For those of you who haven’t met her before, this is Reese McGraw, assistant manager at Southern Arizona Bank and the trustee of August Dempsey’s estate.”
* * *
“THANK YOU.” REESE accepted the cup of coffee Raquel Salazar offered and smiled in appreciation. Other than the attorney Hector Fuentes, Gabe’s mother was the only one to show Reese any friendliness so far.
It was to be expected. Even under normal circumstances, no one in the Dempsey or Salazar families would be pleased to welcome her, the daughter of Theo McGraw. To learn she was the employee at Southern Arizona Bank in charge of overseeing August Dempsey’s estate, well, it must be a shock.
Gabe’s features hardened each time he glanced at her, which was often. If he was trying to scare her off, it wouldn’t work. Reese was here to stay.
It was, she mused, a far cry from the way he’d looked at her yesterday while waiting for her father and Enrico to arrive with the truck and trailer. When he’d buttoned her into the rain poncho, she swore the heat of attraction had flared in his eyes. Not to mention his touch lingered far longer than necessary.
The poncho had kept her warm, all right. That, and the effects of his proximity.
Reese silently scolded herself, alarmed by the direction of her thoughts. She’d known Gabe most of her life, but not once entertained any romantic notions about him. What had changed since their last conversation twelve years ago? Was it her or him?
“You are welcome,” Raquel said in her lilting Hispanic accent. “How is your father doing? He looked a little pale yesterday at the service.”
Reese gave a small start. Raquel had noticed her father’s appearance? Surely, she’d had much, much more on her mind at the funeral than Theo McGraw. Reese swallowed. Soon, her father’s symptoms would become increasingly apparent. Hiding his Parkinson’s would be impossible.
Good. His constant care, and the tremendous burden that came with it, were taking a toll on her, physically and emotionally. He needed help managing his symptoms beyond her limited abilities. Yet he refused to hire an experienced health care professional, convinced people in Mustang Valley would view him differently. Think less of him.
She wished he could see how wrong he was. The same people he feared would pity him had rallied to comfort the family and offer support during August Dempsey’s long illness. They would do the same for her father.
She blamed the damnable McGraw pride, which her father possessed in abundance. She, too, perhaps. Hadn’t she left town shortly after realizing she was pregnant with Blake Nolan’s baby, convinced people would talk behind her and her father’s backs?
“He was tired,” she explained to Raquel. “His arthritis has been keeping him awake at night.”
Her hostess sighed expansively. “I understand. I have my own complaints. Give him my regards, will you?”
“Of course.”
She patted Reese’s arm before gliding away.
Reese admired Gabe’s mother. While the sadness in Raquel’s eyes showed evidence of her grief and sorrow, she remained strong and stalwart. Perhaps, in a way, she was relieved at his passing. August had been in considerable pain at the end, and no one wanted to see their loved one needlessly suffer.
Funny they’d never married. August and his wife divorced twenty-plus years ago. Reese was curious. Reading the entirety of his will hadn’t provided any insight.
Sipping her coffee, she made her way to Cara Alvarez, who, by her estimation, was the one person with the least reason to dislike her. They had once been school friends, after all. Before the feud between August and Reese’s father severed their budding friendship.
“Hey, how you doing?”
Cara glanced up from the spot on the floor she’d been staring at. “All right.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.”
With her luxurious black hair and striking beauty, Cara might have been related to Raquel and not just the daughter she never had. One prominent difference was their eyes. While Raquel’s sparked with a wide array of emotions, Cara’s alternated between listlessness and despair. They had been that way since the tragic death of her toddler son two years ago.
“I hear you’re doing great things with the mustang sanctuary,” Reese said.
“I don’t know about great.” Cara shifted and resumed staring, this time out the window.
Was she remembering her son’s funeral?
Reese decided her former schoolmate wasn’t in the mood for conversation. “If there’s anything you need, feel free to call me or come by the bank.”
“Okay.”
She touched Cara’s arm before crossing the room. Feeling a prickling on the back of her neck, she turned and found Gabe staring at her from a far corner of the room. He stood by himself. No surprise, anger radiated off him in waves.
Reese squared her shoulders, refusing to wilt beneath the visual assault. She was at the ranch in an official capacity. Gabe and his family may not like the fact she was the trustee, but there was nothing they could do about it. August Dempsey’s last wishes would be honored.
Lifting her coffee cup in acknowledgment, she nodded at Gabe. He responded with raised brows and a look of surprise. How about that? She’d bested him. Surely it was a first.
Pleased with herself, she continued her casual stroll of the room. Hector was currently immersed in conversation with Raquel. From what Reese could discern, he was answering the questions she’d have gladly done if asked.
She’d certainly chosen a rough road to travel, though she wouldn’t have refused the assignment. Losing her credibility at the bank, and possibly her position, weren’t options. She needed a job with decent income and one that enabled her to be close to her father. Assistant manager of Southern Arizona Bank fit the bill perfectly.
Besides, she liked her job. And, if she said so herself, she was good at it.
Finishing her coffee, she started for the kitchen, planning to dispose of her cup in the sink. At the large archway separating the dining room from the kitchen, she paused. The strains of what was clearly a private conversation reached her ears from the other side of the archway and around the corner. It was between Josh Dempsey and his brother Cole.
“What am I going to do with one-third of the ranch?” Cole demanded irritably. “I don’t want it. I don’t want anything that belonged to him.”
“Let’s get our copy of the will and read through it,” Josh suggested. “The terms may not be ironclad.”
“You heard what the attorney said.”
Cole had understood correctly. The will was ironclad. August had been thorough, perhaps anticipating a conflict.
“Maybe we can contest it.”
“And where are we going to find the money for that?” Cole scoffed. “Getting custody of your kids drained your bank account.”
Reese recalled reading the background information Hector had provided on the Dempsey brothers. According to the report, Josh was locked in a bitter legal battle with his ex-wife over custody of their two young children.
“Take it easy, Cole. My financial problems aren’t what’s making you mad.”
“You’re right. I don’t want to be here, and I’m sorry we came.”
“Give it another day or two. We’ll figure out a way to get your money.”
“Our money, you mean. Don’t forget, brother, you want your share as badly as I want mine. Attorneys aren’t cheap.”
Reese retreated, concerned by what she’d heard. Growing up in Mustang Valley, she knew about August’s first family and that there was no love lost between him and his sons. But he must have wanted to make amends. Why else would he have modified his will six months ago? Obviously, his two sons didn’t appreciate the gesture.
Should she tell Gabe? Was it her place? No, probably not. But nothing stopped her from dropping a hint or two about his brothers’ intentions.
He hadn’t left the corner. Seeing his hard expression, Reese had second thoughts. Perhaps she should speak to Hector instead. Though what could he do? The same as her, alert Gabe, who’d likely be more receptive to the family attorney than her.
She wavered, still debating and well aware she was drawing attention to herself. A moment later, she headed straight for Gabe.
He didn’t so much as blink at her approach. The guy had nerves of steel.
“I wanted to thank you again for helping me yesterday,” she said.
“How’s the horse?”
“Fine. A bit sore, but otherwise unharmed. The vet prescribed pain relievers, an anti-inflammatory and a week’s rest.” She mentioned the vet’s visit strictly to let Gabe know she wasn’t lax when it came to the well-being of the McGraw horses.
“You were lucky.”
“I was.” She hoped he noted the sincerity she was trying to convey. “I can’t imagine what I would have done if you hadn’t come riding by.”
“Gone for help,” he said matter-of-factly.
“And might not have made it back in time to save General.”
“I disagree. You’re a resourceful woman, Reese.”
“How would you know? We’re not exactly friends.”
Except he’d witnessed one of the worst moments in her life and had treated her secret like it was his own, telling no one. Did that give them some sort of bond?
“It shows.” He angled his head in a way managing to be both confident and boyishly charming.
“I’m not that capable.”
“No? You’re the trustee of my father’s estate. If you ask me, that’s pretty resourceful.”
Ah. There they were. The knives. And here she’d assumed they might have a normal conversation. “Believe it or not, I had nothing to do with your father’s decision.”
“Other than you returned to Mustang Valley and took a job at the bank a few weeks before he revised his will.”
She stiffened. “A coincidence.”
