22. Jaxon
Jaxon
Somebody once said, Good fences make good neighbors. But that’s only when they’re on the right property, which is why Hank Branford has twenty-four hours to move his stakes before I get my lawyer involved.
Not that James wants to get in the middle of a land dispute. For a lawyer, he’s the most peace-loving man I’ve ever met. But I won’t hesitate to use the law to defend what rightfully belongs to Lucky Chance.
So when Hank says he wants to stop in to talk about the misunderstanding, I already know he’s not here to make amends. As far as I’m concerned, there is no misunderstanding. It’s our land.
Hank shows up outside our stallion barn at eight sharp the next morning, wearing a black Stetson and boots as shiny as a new Chevy.
“Hank.” I extend my hand because that’s the nice thing to do, but really I want him to understand who he’s dealing with now—the eldest son of John Chance.
“Jaxon, good to see you.” He grips my hand harder than what’s usual for neighbors. “How’s the farm?” He takes in the property, rubbing his thumb across his palm. “Doesn’t look like much has changed since I was last out here.”
“We’ve got some plans we’re working on,” I say.
“Interesting.” He gives me a tight smile. “Are you looking for more cash to get these plans off the ground?”
“I’m not looking to give up my fence line, if that’s what you’re asking.” I give him the same tight smile back. I don’t care if he offered to pay our entire loan—he’s not getting any part of Lucky Chance Ranch.
“Listen,” he says, putting up a hand. “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding with the new fence. I’ll get my guys out there to fix it tomorrow.”
That seems too easy. I didn’t think Hank would give in without at least making an offer.
“Thanks,” I say. “Appreciate that.”
“No problem,” he says. “That’s what neighbors do.”
Something in his tone tells me not to trust Hank’s goodwill, even if we didn’t already have reason to distrust the Branfords after Dad’s sour business deal.
“I also wanted to talk to you about horses,” he says smoothly.
Ah, there it is.
He nods toward the stallion barn. “Mind showing me around?”
“Sure,” I say, trying to read what’s behind his eyes. But Branford’s smarter than that; he knows a good poker face is critical when you’re in the horse business.
I take him inside, where he looks over our stallions like he’s checking out his competition.
Any thoroughbred-farm owner worth his salt tracks the sales results of other horses the same way I tracked the scoreboard in hockey.
You watch which stallions are producing stakes winners, where the stud fees are headed, and which stallions have breeders lining up months before breeding season.
He stops outside Kentucky Gent’s stall. “He’s been a good horse for your father.”
“Sure has.” I rub Gent’s neck.
Branford inspects the horse. “John Chance built a solid operation here. It’s a shame the way things have gone the last few years.” His voice has that syrupy tone of sympathy that rubs me the wrong way. I already know he’s the type of guy to see our bad luck as his next opportunity.
He lifts his hat slightly to readjust it. “It’s just too bad it all happened at once. These kinds of operations are hard to keep up with when family passes on. Especially when the next generation isn’t all that interested in taking it over.”
I tilt my head. “Who said we’re not interested?”
He steps back. “You said at the farmers market that you might expand the farm. But I always got the impression from your dad that you boys didn’t want Lucky Chance.”
“Folks can change their minds.”
He nods at Gent. “Fine animal who was quite the runner in his day. It’s a shame his stud fees have gone down.”
I smooth a hand over Gent’s shoulder, ignoring Branford’s jab. Gent’s best days might be behind him, but he’s still holding his own for Lucky Chance. “His bloodlines haven’t changed.”
“No, but the market has.” Hank leans against the stall. “I’ll be honest with you, Jaxon. I didn’t come here only for the fence. I came because of this stallion. His fees aren’t what they used to be, and I know you need money. I’ve got the cash and want to make an offer on Gent.”
“I’ve already told you we’re not selling,” I say firmly.
He puts a hand up. “I’m asking you to hear me out.
You’ve got a farm that’s struggling, and I’m not saying that as an insult.
I’ve been watching Lucky Chance Ranch for a long time, saw the way your dad built it up over the years.
But times have been hard for everyone, especially your dad.
You were off playing hockey—you didn’t know what was happening back here. ”
“None of us did.” I wish Dad or Mom had told me what was going on so I could’ve stepped in before we’d gotten to this point.
Even after Dad died, Mom kept quiet about all the problems on the farm.
She knew that if she’d told me, I’d have come home, and she wasn’t willing to be the reason I quit hockey while I could still play.
She was protecting me from a choice I’d have resented for the rest of my life.
Sure, it might be the same decision I’m making now, but this time it was my injury that decided for me.
There’s no going back to hockey. And I won’t let my parents down.
“Jaxon, I know what it would take to bring Lucky Chance back to its glory days,” Hank continues. “And right now, you don’t have the capital to do that. So let’s face this problem like men. You know I would give you a fair price for Gent.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “Answer is still no.”
“But you’ve got a florist running the broodmare barn. And we all know Earl wants to go back into retirement. He’s only doing this out of loyalty to your parents.”
“Hold it right there, Hank.” The muscle in my jaw clenches.
“Summer’s been managing the broodmare operation at this place with more competence than most men I know.
And we are not selling any part of it to you or anyone else.
Elijah Chance built this place, and my brothers and I are going to continue the legacy.
So I’d appreciate it if you refrained from making offers on my horses or anything else at Lucky Chance. ”
“Suit yourself,” he says flatly. “But I think you’re risking too much. Eventually, all those debts will catch up to you. When they do”—he pauses, adjusting his hat—“I’ll still be here.” He pats Gent once more, then turns and saunters out of the barn.
I lean against the door of Gent’s stall as Earl comes inside the barn. “Did Hank leave already?”
I straighten slowly. “Yep.”
“Did he make an offer on Gent?”
I frown. “How’d you know?”
“Been doing it for years,” Earl says, then grabs a stall fork. “Last farm manager almost sold Gent before your mother intervened.” He pauses. “You know he’ll be back.”
“I know.” I sigh. “He knows that selling to him would be the easy way out.”
Earl leans on the fork. “Your dad always said taking the easy way out usually cost him more in the end.”
No wonder Dad hardly ever took a day off. Farm life isn’t a nine-to-five job—it’s a life.
“Earl, what do you really think about me taking over this farm?” I ask him, point-blank. “Am I crazy for thinking I can do this?”
Earl chews his lip. “I think your daddy would be proud,” he finally says. “And I think you’re more like him than you realize.”
Then he gets to work in an empty stall.
My dad liked open pastures and the smell of hay in the morning—the same country life I was only too happy to leave in my rearview mirror. But when I look at Lucky Chance Ranch now, all I feel is pride.
I know whose son I am now.
Maybe that’s what Earl meant when he said I’m like my father. My dad didn’t quit either.