Her Holiday Rancher. Cathy Mcdavid

Twice his father had used it. There must be some significance.

      “Any questions?” Hector repeated when he’d finished with the specifics.

      “No,” Gabe’s mother and Cara replied simultaneously.

      Hector then listed smaller bequests. Gabe’s mother was to receive ownership of August’s favorite dog. She, along with Gabe and a close cousin, were to get his jewelry, personal items and cherished mementos.

      Gabe studied his brothers’ faces during the reading. He wouldn’t recognize either of them as being related to him or their father. Other than the fact they all three stood over six feet tall, there were no noticeable physical similarities. With their blond hair and blue eyes, Josh, the oldest brother, and Cole must resemble their mother.

      Neither did they look like the boys he remembered from his childhood. Gabe had been in first grade, Josh second and Cole in kindergarten when an older child on the playground had pointed to the brothers and told Gabe in a taunting voice that they were his father’s real sons. The boy had then called Gabe’s mother a name he hadn’t understood at the time, but instinctively knew was the worst of insults.

      Angry and hurt and experiencing feelings he couldn’t explain, much less process, Gabe had passed the rest of the day in a blur. Arriving home after school, he’d gone straight from the bus to his mother and told her about what the boy had said, omitting the bad name.

      She’d hugged him, smoothed his hair and insisted he forget about it. Gabe might have, except the same thing happened two days later. Instead of retaliating against the boy, Gabe went after Josh, who was both older and bigger than him. The attack, poorly executed, nonetheless cost him three days’ suspension from school for fighting.

      His mother had been furious with him. She’d also been saddened. It was the first Gabe had learned that his father, who visited once or twice a week in the evenings, had a wife and children living on a ranch outside of Mustang Valley. It took Gabe several years to fully understand his family’s unusual dynamics, long after he and his mother had moved to Dos Estrellas.

      Did Josh remember the school tussle? Did he know it was Gabe who had hit him and what had made him so angry? Probably not. At least, his face gave no indication.

      “Last, is my beloved Dos Estrellas Ranch, which has been in the Dempsey family for three generations.”

      Hector’s voice jarred Gabe from his thoughts. Every muscle in his body tightened. He willed himself not to look at his brothers, but at Hector instead. They would not see how important this moment was to him, or his devastation if the rumors turned out to be true and Gabe lost the ranch.

      Beside him, his mother shifted and murmured under her breath. Cara grabbed his hand and squeezed.

      “I leave the ranch equally to my three sons, Josh, Cole and Gabe.”

      Pain sliced through Gabe, leaving him numb. He hadn’t inherited the ranch. Worse, his father had named him third after his two legitimate sons, whom he hadn’t seen in twenty-four years.

      Betrayal. It was the emotion Gabe hadn’t been able to define when he was six. It was also the emotion that gripped him now, fresh as the day on the playground with Josh.

      “See, I told you, mijo,” his mother said in a whisper, “your father did not forget you.”

      Not forget him? He might as well have. Gabe was supposed to share ownership of Dos Estrellas? With them?

      “He promised to leave the ranch to Gabe,” Cara hissed.

      “Hush,” his mother ordered.

      “It’s not fair.” Cara’s voice rose, loud enough to draw the stares of everyone in the room. “Gabe’s worked the land. He knows the cattle business and how the ranch is run.” She gestured to Josh and Cole. “They don’t have the first clue. They’re rodeo competitors, for crying out loud.”

      “We can hear you,” Josh said.

      Cole grunted and stared angrily out the large bay window.

      Gabe fumed. What was the guy’s problem? He had nothing to be angry about.

      “If we could please continue,” Hector scolded in an attempt to bring the reading back under control.

      Cara didn’t apologize. She didn’t say anything, merely folded her arms across her middle.

      With a warning nod in her direction, Hector carried on, reading August’s words. “My good attorney has advised me to cover the many details on a separate page. I’ve done that, merely to satisfy him, mind you.” A hint of amusement flashed in Hector’s eyes. “But, in a nutshell, Dos Estrellas can’t be sold in its entirety unless all three of my sons are in agreement. And while individual shares can be sold, it is my fervent wish my beloved ranch remains in the family for many future generations, and the grandchildren I didn’t live long enough to see will grow up here, fine, strong and healthy like my own boys.”

      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?”