Chapter 8 #2
His son was already sprinting toward him from the corral where he’d been playing. Tank was barking as he herded his son his way. Ben swung down from the saddle and sent Flame back to the barn with a nudge to her flank.
Will’s mouth was tight as he reached Ben. “Logan is on his way, but he wants me to video the encounter since he doesn’t think he’ll get here in time.”
Ben pulled Cooper to his side as the boy arrived. “Son, I need you to run to the main house and stay put. Okay?”
“Who is it, Papa?” Cooper asked, out of breath.
“Someone who doesn’t know the meaning of trespassing. Now go. Reba is at the front door waiting for you. Reba! Tell Dad and Gramps I’ll handle this.”
He set his weight and put his hands on his hips, watching as the extended red truck pulled to a stop a few hundred yards away.
“The cost of that truck is about a half million and could cover our ranch costs for a nice little while,” Will murmured darkly.
“I wonder why anyone feels the need to have a military-grade truck with bulletproof glass and body armor outside a war zone,” Ben replied tightly. “Oh, I know. An asshole intent on making enemies.”
James Taft swung his short, round body out of the truck, wearing some kind of highfalutin driving suit in all black, along with black cowboy boots studded with what looked like real silver.
“Ben! Will! I was out driving when someone from town called me about your old girlfriend returning. What I didn’t know was that she was part of Will’s plan to turn Wild Mountain into a spa and rehab facility, with the hot springs at its center. You stole my idea, boys.”
Ben made sure Will was recording before he walked forward to meet the man. “No, the idea was Elena McAllister’s in the late 1880s. Will’s finally bringing to fruition what she started, but that’s our business. You’re on McAllister land, Taft. Uninvited. That’s trespassing.”
“I got lost, Ben.” His laugh held three shades of disrespect before he gestured around them. “You own so much of this beautiful land, it’s hard sometimes to know where you are.”
This time, Ben gave a dry laugh. “I’ll bet your Rezvani has GPS.”
“A malfunction, I’m sure. Ben, I’m pretty upset you’re developing Wild Mountain after turning my offers down. How many have I given? At least three, by my count. Well, I’m here to offer my fourth—”
“Like I said, it’s a longtime family project coming to fruition, James,” Ben bit out. “Now, get off our land.”
Taft’s sagging jowls turned red along with his face as he shook his head.
“I’ve worked on Wall Street for over thirty years, and no one’s ever talked to me like you do, McAllister.
Part of me wants to respect you. The other part wants to crush you.
I’ll leave you to figure which I’ll end up picking.
Because when I want something, I get it.
Start your little project but remember. Come hell or high water, Wild Mountain will be mine. ”
“Get off our land, Taft,” Ben ordered. “Unless you want to be here when Sheriff Delaney arrives. We called him when we spotted an intruder on our property.”
“An intruder?” His derisive laugh made Ben’s jaw lock. “When I’m trying so hard to be a part of this sweet little community, what with your McAllister Cherry Festival and your barn dancing and simple life.”
He was talking down to them, and Ben felt his lip curl. “Don’t worry. Our Cherry Festival this year will be invitation only. I’m sure yours will get lost in the mail, seeing as how we have such a simple life and all.”
Taft slapped the hood of his truck like he was in some fancy conference room.
“Some men are built for great things, and I happen to be one of them. That’s no slap to your way of life.
Only…it’s so outdated, living and working on the land and all.
I mean, do you even own a computer? Have you ever traveled outside this fair state? ”
Ben wanted to punch that smug, superior look right off his face.
“That’s why my ancestor, James Taft the First, didn’t put down roots in Sanctuary Springs like he’d hoped. He headed to Chicago because he wanted more out of life. I’m here to do what he’d hoped, you know.”
Ben and others in Sanctuary Springs had brushed up on their town history when Taft had shown up looking to buy more land six months ago after he’d secured a minor ranch holding and talking about his ancestor being part of the town’s fabric in the late eighteen hundreds.
“Taft, your ancestor was known as Billie Taft. He was thrown in jail for being a card shark—the historical society has the notice of his incarceration. Oh, and that sidewinder was the owner of the Velvet Saddle Whorehouse for a time. Until my great-great-great-grandmother Elena’s normal efforts of closing it down didn’t pan out.
So she played him for the deed in a very unusual high-stakes poker game.
Unusual because my grandmother was a lady.
She beat your ancestor hands down. Then she made good on her promise to make this town a safe place for women and families.
There are multiple accounts of that infamous card game if you’d like to read about it. ”
He enjoyed seeing the glower on Taft’s round face. “Utter fiction. All of it! He had big plans for this town. You should know that Bartholomew Taft’s name graces libraries, museums, and schools—”
“Maybe he was good at covering up his misdeeds. Now, I won’t say it again. Get off our land. Or I’ll tell the sheriff I took your keys away because I smelled alcohol on your breath.”
Taft gave an amused shake of his head. “That’s a clever thought, Ben. I underestimated you McAllisters. I won’t again. You remember what I said. This isn’t over. Oh, and tell your boys to let me pass, seeing as I’ll be taking the main road out of the Triple M and not the bucolic way I came.”
Ben stared him down like he would a wolf, thinking his gramps would say Taft looked mean enough to steal the coins off a dead man’s eyes.
He let the silence lengthen. Taft might have more money than Ben ever would, but he was stronger in both body and spirit.
They both knew it. “I’ll do that. Make sure you take it slow and easy, Taft. ”
“Of course.” He gave a chilling smile. “Oh, and happy Father’s Day, Ben.”
With that, he walked back to his truck, got in, and revved the engine. Ben watched him drive down the main road until he was out of sight. “Text the hands on duty and tell them Taft is leaving. Then send that video to Logan.”
“Done,” Will commented moments later. “Well, we knew he wouldn’t be happy about my plans. Ah…Dad’s coming.”
Ben bit off his response and started toward his father. Gramps was slowly following, his hunched frame a testimony to how many James Taft characters the Triple M had had to fight off in its history.
“Let’s go inside and have some of that pie Reba made,” he called out. “I handled Taft. No need for it to spoil our supper.”
His father’s shoulders didn’t fill out his work shirt like Ben remembered growing up, but his frown was still scary enough to make a horse step back.
“Your grandfather and I heard the entire conversation through the window Reba opened. Taft’s a bastard—a dangerous one.
Probably much like his ancestor was. Ben, I don’t like his boldness this time, trespassing on our land. ”
No, the brazen move meant to convey he wasn’t worried about conforming to any laws or being held accountable by them.
“Back in my day, we’d call that upping the ante.
” Gramps placed a grizzled hand on Ben’s shoulder.
“God, he’s ugly enough to back a buzzard off a gut-wagon.
You did good, Ben. Handled him like a McAllister.
I think we start having a few of the hands patrol that horse trail from the ranch to town.
I don’t think we’ve seen the last of that skunk. ”
Ben had no doubt Taft would be back when he found out Will’s project was grandfathered in. “Will, you need to break ground. As soon as possible. Good thing you took all the steps you did to be ready.”
Will nodded curtly. Finding out his brother had worked with his dad these past months to make sure they had everything they needed to start building—under his nose, mind you—had been a surprise. Now he was glad they had.
Taft might be new to the area, but he had money. That meant lawyers. Ben wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to stop Will’s project with an injunction. God, he was going to have to call Lloyd. Their lawyer was sound, but his time cost money—funds he’d rather invest in the ranch.
He wasn’t going to think about that now. Today was Father’s Day. “Now, how about that pie?”
“Sounds good,” Gramps agreed cheerfully.
They started walking to the house. When Cooper met him at the front door, he hiked him up and threw him over his shoulder like a grain sack, heading to the table, going on about how many slices of pie he was going to eat—even if he exploded into a million pieces.
Ben finally shook off his tenseness and started laughing along with everyone else.
That was good. Sunday was his only day off, and it was family time.