Chapter 3
Cole
“I’ve read over the will,” Mr. Whitaker began, nodding his head slowly as he spoke.
“I was the one who helped the late Mr. Nelson complete it and file it with the state. Everything contained within is legally binding, and should one of you wish to fight it in court, I’m afraid you will be in for a losing battle. ”
Well, that filled me with fucking terror. “What do you mean?” I asked, knitting my brows together. “Why would you start with that?”
The lawyer held up a hand. “I’m just letting you know the facts, Cole,” he replied.
“Your father was… thorough. He had himself evaluated by a doctor and papers signed to prove he was of sound mind. Then he filed everything before his death so that there would be no mistaking what he wanted and no grounds to dispute the will should either of you disagree with its contents.”
My dread grew with every passing moment. “How the hell did he manage that? He’s been bedridden for months!”
“Some doctors and lawyers still make house calls,” he replied, adjusting his glasses. “Regardless of how old-fashioned you youngsters think that sort of thing is. Evelyn was also very helpful, running errands for your father when he needed them.”
Evelyn. Of course. That explained her incessant need to warn me before I left. Between her and Mr. Whitaker, I already knew I wasn’t gonna like what was contained in my father’s will. It seemed everyone, not just Jesse, was out to betray me.
“Dad was always a step ahead when it came to legal stuff,” Jesse added nonchalantly, picking at his fingernails. “Just like that time when those men tried to claim—”
“Shut up,” I spat, shooting a glare at Jesse.
He just stared at me, one eyebrow raised. “Are you this much of a dick to everyone, or am I just lucky?”
I hated that fucking sarcastic tone he always used with me. He knew how much it irritated me. It was like talking to a teenager.
“Why don’t you—”
“Gentlemen,” Mr. Whitaker barked, interrupting what would’ve probably been the start of another fight.
“If you can withhold your animosity toward one another for the next five minutes, I’d like to deliver this will to you both.
” He glanced down at his watch. “As entertaining as it would be to listen to you two fight like children, I have a lunch date I would like to keep with another client.”
I gritted my teeth and forced myself to sit back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest. The lawyer was right. I was acting like a child. But something about Jesse always brought out the worst in me. Always had.
“Apologies,” I muttered. “Go ahead.”
Mr. Whitaker nodded, carefully opening the manila envelope and extracting several official-looking documents.
“As you know, your father owned the Nelson Ranch outright, approximately five thousand acres of land, the main house, and all structures and livestock therein.” He glanced up at me. “A substantial estate.”
My heart pounded in my chest. This was it. This was the moment when everything I’d worked for would be confirmed as mine.
“Jack Nelson’s will is... unconventional,” Whitaker continued, adjusting his glasses. “But as I said, entirely legal and binding.”
Jesse shifted in his seat, suddenly looking less smug. Good. He should be nervous.
“The will states that the Nelson Ranch, in its entirety, is to be jointly owned by both Cole Nelson and Jesse Harris, with equal shares and equal responsibility.”
The words hit me like a physical blow. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
“What the fuck?” I finally managed, my voice a strangled whisper.
Jesse looked equally stunned, his mouth hanging open slightly. “That’s not possible.”
“I assure you, it is.” Whitaker tapped the papers. “Furthermore, there is a stipulation. The ranch cannot be sold, divided, or transferred to another party for a minimum of one year following Jack Nelson’s death. During that time, both of you must live and work on the property together.”
“No.” I stood up so fast my chair nearly toppled over. “No fucking way.”
Jesse looked pale. “I can’t stay here for a year. I have a life in Seattle. A job. A—” He stopped himself, swallowing whatever he was about to say.
“I’m afraid those are the terms,” Whitaker said firmly. “If either of you refuses to comply, the entire estate will be donated to the Montana Land Conservation Trust.”
I felt like I was going to be sick. “This is bullshit. He can’t force us to live together.”
“He’s not forcing you to do anything,” Whitaker replied calmly. “You’re both free to walk away. But if you do, neither of you gets the ranch.”
My hands clenched into fists. “I’ve given fifteen years of my life to this place. Fifteen fucking years! And now I have to share it with him?” I jabbed a finger toward Jesse. “He doesn’t know the first thing about ranching anymore. He’s been gone for—”
“Fifteen years. Yeah, we get it,” Jesse interrupted, rolling his eyes. “Christ, you’re like a broken record.”
I took a threatening step toward him, but Whitaker’s voice cut through the tension.
“There’s more.”
We both froze, eyes darting back to Whitaker, who seemed almost amused by our reactions.
“According to the will,” he continued, glancing down at the paper, “neither of you is permitted to hire managers or foremen to run the operation in your absence. You must actively participate in the daily management and labor of the ranch yourselves. And you must reside on the ranch, in the main house. Together.”
“This is fucking ridiculous,” I growled, pacing the small office. My boots thudded against the hardwood floor, each step echoing my mounting rage. “Dad wouldn’t do this to me.”
“Apparently he would,” Jesse muttered, running a hand through his hair.
I rounded on him. “You don’t get to have an opinion here. You walked away. I stayed.”
“And yet here we are,” Jesse said, his voice deceptively calm. “Seems like your father thought I deserved half, regardless.”
I wanted to grab him by his fancy collar and throw him against the wall. Fifteen years of back-breaking work, of sleepless nights worrying about money, of putting my own life on hold… all of it meant nothing now. Dad had betrayed me in the worst possible way.
Whitaker cleared his throat. “There’s one final provision.”
“Jesus Christ, what else?” I snapped.
“If you two manage to successfully run the ranch together for the full year, and if—” he paused, glancing between us, “if you can resolve your differences and forge a working partnership, then at the end of that year, you’ll gain access to a separate trust fund Jack established for each of you.
Each fund is worth well over a million dollars. ”
My jaw nearly hit the floor.
“That’s impossible,” I whispered. The ranch had never had that kind of money.
“Your father made some very wise investments over the years,” Whitaker explained. “He was quite shrewd with his finances.”
Jesse let out a low whistle. “Damn, old man.”
“The funds remain intact only if you fulfill all conditions of the will,” Whitaker continued. “If either of you leaves before the year is up, or if you fail to work together in the spirit your father intended, the money goes to charity along with the ranch.”
I leaned against the wall, suddenly feeling like the floor had dropped out from under me. “So that’s it? I’m just supposed to let him waltz back in after fifteen years and hand over half of everything I’ve worked for?”
“Not waltz in,” Whitaker corrected. “Work alongside you. As equals.”
“Fuck that,” I spat.
Jesse stood up, his expression unreadable. “Look, I don’t want this any more than you do. I’ve got a life in Seattle.”
“Then walk away,” I challenged. “Let me buy you out.”
“Did you not hear the man?” Jesse gestured toward Whitaker. “We can’t sell or transfer ownership for a year. It’s both of us working together, or neither of us gets anything.”
The reality of the situation was sinking in like a knife to the gut. Dad’s will had trapped us together, like two wolves in a cage.
“You’ve both heard the terms,” Whitaker said, gathering his papers.
“I’ll need your decisions within seventy-two hours.
If you both agree to the conditions, we’ll proceed with the transfer of ownership.
If not...” He shrugged. “The Montana Land Conservation Trust will be very grateful. The Nelson Ranch would make a beautiful state park.”
I stormed out of the office without another word, the door slamming behind me hard enough to rattle the glass. Outside, I sucked in deep breaths of cold Montana air, trying to calm the rage threatening to consume me.
The sound of the door opening again made me turn. Jesse stood there, looking just as shaken as I felt.
“Cole—”
“Don’t,” I growled. “Just don’t.”
“We need to talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” I jabbed a finger at his chest. “You’re not taking what’s mine.”
Jesse’s eyes flashed with anger. “It’s not yours. It’s ours. That’s what Dad wanted.”
“Don’t you dare call him Dad,” I snarled. “You lost that right when you walked away.”
“I had my reasons for leaving,” he said, his voice quieter now.
“Yeah, you always did.” I turned toward my truck. “Go back to Seattle, Jesse. Go back to whatever fancy life you’ve built for yourself. The ranch doesn’t need you.”
“And lose everything? Let you lose everything?” He followed me. “Look, I don’t want this any more than you do, but—”
I whirled around, getting right in his face. “But what? You think we can play happy family for a year? Live in the same house? Work side by side like nothing happened?”
Something flickered in those hazel eyes of his. It was uncertainty, maybe even fear. Good. He should be afraid.
“I don’t want the ranch, Cole,” he said, his voice gentler now. “And I don’t want to stay here. But…”
“But what?!” I snapped. “Stop wastin’ my time!”
He gritted his teeth. “But I don’t want you to lose it either.”
I just stared at him, not sure if I could believe what I was hearing.