“We’re not selling. Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?” Cash asked.
“You’re all guessin’ that we’re breaking up the farm, and you’d be right. But our hopes are to give it to our sons. Six pieces have been equally sectioned—one for each of us. All have water for cattle and grass for grazing.”
“Hot damn!” Witt jumped up and slapped his knee.
“There are conditions,” Pa said.
Witt dropped back to his seat and shoveled two bites of pie into his mouth. “I don’t care about conditions. I’ll do anything to have a piece of Paradise Valley and live my whole life here.”
“Well, that’s what we’re hoping for too, son.” Ma looked to Ted. Forty-five years of hard work had built this ranch, and the seeds of love blossomed into a helluva lot of richness. Hundreds of healthy animals were sold for great profits, and they had a cash crop of hay.
“We’re listening, Pa,” Hank said with a respectful nod.
“’preciate it, Hank. What we’re hoping is that you boys will go find some nice little gals to settle with.”
“Wait—what? Women?” Hank could barely get the shocked words out. On the spurs of his initial surprise was a tightening in his gut. He hadn’t been with a woman in too long. They were thin on the ground here, and he couldn’t think about driving into town in search of some late-night fun after putting in a sixteen-hour day.
“What your pa is saying, boys, is we want you to settle down. Take wives. Then you can have your piece of land to work as you see fit.”
“Is this a joke?” Cash asked.
Beck, who’d been quiet through most of this discussion, spoke up. “We can’t get the land until we’ve found wives?”
“That’s right. I knew you were a sharp tack, Beck.” Pa nodded at the brother who never remembered to remove his hat for dinner no matter how many times Momma scolded him. It sat on his head now, battered and slightly crooked.
“This is medieval. Why don’t you just choose our wives for us?” Witt burst.
“They’d never do that, Witt. Shut up and think about what they’re offering,” Kade said.
“Yeah, I’m thinking that I have a piece of land with my name on it—one I bust my ass working every day. And I’m willing to do that because I love this ranch.” He tapped the table lightly with his fingers. “But it doesn’t seem fair to dictate conditions like that. I suppose you’d tell us how to work our piece of ground too?”
“It would be yours to do as you wish. If you’d like to sell out to a subdivision, that’s your prerogative,” Pa said.
None of them would lay a finger to mar Paradise Valley Ranch in such a way. The Daltons loved having only cows for neighbors. The Guthries were too far away to count.
“I still say it’s medieval.” Witt settled against his chair back and folded his arms over his chest. His denim shirt buttons looked ready to pop.
“What if we can’t find a wife?” Hank asked.
“Then you wait to get your land. In the meantime, you’ll always have a place in this house, and I bet one of your brothers would need a ranch hand.”
“Screw this.” Witt exploded from his chair and stomped out of the room.
Cash rubbed a hand through his messy hair. “Which one of y’all came up with this scheme?”
“We decided together. Your momma believes you need the care of a good woman, and I believe the land needs a good man.”
“It’s not going to be easy, Pa. We rarely go into town. Driving an hour after putting in a full day’s work doesn’t appeal to any of us. Riding the bus to school for years was bad enough.” Hank looked at his brothers.
“Maybe I could find a woman if I hang out at the one stop light in Vixen,” Beck said.
“There’s always the market,” Cash added.
“That market has high prices,” Momma muttered.
“Don’t forget the coffee shop.” Hank’s lips quirked up. In their teen years, they’d prowled the coffee house, pretending to like dark roasts in order to lure women into believing they were more brooding than they were.
They’d also had plenty of fun in the back parking lot.
“Finding the perfect woman to fill your life with joy is never an easy task, Hank. But we believe there’s one for you. It’s time to get cleaned up, put on your Sunday best and go courtin’.”
“They don’t really call it courtin’ anymore, Pa.” Beck chuckled.
“Whatever you call it, get out there and get it done.” Pa’s face was stone. Once he had his mind set on something, there wasn’t a person in the state who could sway him. Well, maybe one—Momma.