The Bequest
Chapter 33—Amanda

Another package has gone missing. It probably doesn't help that the mailbox on the street is overflowing with letters. I haul them all in, dropping one every two feet. It takes me forever with all the leaning over and picking up, and reconfiguring, and dropping another, but eventually I reach the house. I dump them unceremoniously on the counter.

"What's all that?" Abby asks.

"This is the mail-which specifically did not include a package that I was supposed to have received already from Ariat."

"What are they sending you?" she asks.

"Boots," I say. "They reached out to say that they like my recent posts and asked if I'd be interested in some area appropriate clothing and shoes." I shrug. "Since we've got a few more weeks, I said why not? But...the package is nowhere." Abby's now flipping through the mail of a dead man. She just can't let anything go. "Mhmm," she says. "That's nice. I have to pay for all my clothing."

"But you also get to choose it."

Abby's now opening letters and sorting them.

"What are you doing?"

She looks up. "You do actually manage your own life, right?"

Oh my word, she's such a snot. "Of course I do."

"I'm ashamed to admit that I've looked at living here a bit like a vacation. A terrible vacation in which I'm both working on a farm and also doing my job, but still. Since we're here, we're supposed to be managing things. Like paying the power bill." She points at the light above our heads. "If we don't do things like that, they tend to cut the power off. Then no internet will feel like less of an urgency, I promise."

She's a brat, but she's probably also right. I turn to help her, filtering out the spammy mailers and chucking them, while handing the reputable-looking mail to her. "National Forestry Service?" I toss it onto the spam file.

"Wait." Abby lunges for it.

"You think we need that?"

"That's where the cows run," she says. "Remember?"

"I thought it was Bureau of Land Management."

"Kevin says out here that land is all desert. He said the forestry service land is way better-and cheaper too."

Huh. I suppose I ought to be paying more attention, but it's hard to care when I've only got a few weeks.

When Abby opens the letter, her hands tighten on the edges of it, and the color drains from her face.

"Not great news, I take it?"

"It says that because we didn't file for a renewal of our permit, we can't take any cows up to the forest this year."

"Perfect," I say. "Geez, why didn't we do that to begin with? Now they can just stay here, and you won't have to spend all day herding them up there."

Abby grits her teeth, but I try not to let it annoy me. "Amanda, I know that you're not here to participate, but have you heard anything Kevin and Jeff have said?"

Not really.

"The cows need to go up there," she says. "If they don't, we won't be able to grow enough hay to feed them through the winter. If that happens, and we're forced to buy hay for hundreds of cows, then we'll lose any profit we might have otherwise made."

I lean forward, bracing my hands on the table. "Abigail, correct me if I'm wrong, but in a few weeks, your son Ethan is going to college." I lift my eyebrows and wait for an answer. She blinks. "That's right."

"And this entire ranch, as well as the cows, will presumably be sold."

If you're loving the book, nel5s.com is where the adventure continues. Join us for the complete experience all for free. The next chapter is eagerly waiting for you! She nods.

"None of that money comes to us, right?"

"Right."

I lean even closer. "So why do you care?"

She releases the letter and it flutters to the table. "Well, I guess..."

For someone who insists this isn't a real option, she sure acts like it is.

"So what if the cows stay here? So what if there's not enough hay for the winter?" I shrug. "Let the new owners deal with that."

Abigail looks a bit like a kite whose strings were cut. She collapses into a chair and leans back into it. "It's been such a mad dash of one emergency after another since Nate died."

I sit next to her. I remember that feeling. I have PTSD from that feeling, really. For more than a year, I had no idea whether we'd be evicted. I pulled out a cash advance on a credit card to pay rent once, and ouch, that was hard to repay. "You're only here for Ethan, so-"

"Ethan will know if I don't take it seriously, and he'll blame me." Her brow furrows. "I told him that we'd try. That we'd make sure we succeeded at every task, and that I would give the entire enterprise a fair shake."

"But what can you do at this point?" I shrug. "I mean, you've done what you could do, right?"

"I guess." A moment later, she ducks out the door for another riding lesson-which might actually halt. I mean, if there's no cattle drive, there's no desperate urgency to learn how to ride and rope, either, and Emery will lay off about it. Hallelujah.

I've walked all the way to the 'office' on the hill, and I'm filing a complaint with the US Postal service for the lost package when Ethan comes pounding toward me on his big brown horse. "Aunt Mandy!"

In forty years, I doubt I've ever stood up quite so fast, and Roscoe flings himself in front of me, his fur on end, growling. "Ethan, watch out."

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But his horse slides to a stop just in time, grass and dirt flying, a half dozen yards in front of me and the dog. "You talked to Dr. Dutton, right?"

"What?" Where did that come from?

"In the middle of our lesson, Mr. Archer asked Mom why she was upset. I didn't even know she was upset. That guy's smart. But she said that the Forestry Service didn't approve a renewal of our permit, because we didn't file the right forms, or rather, Uncle Jed didn't."

"Okay."

"Mr. Steve said it's too bad we don't know Eddy, because the only person Ranger Dutton listens to is his son."

"Are you saying the park ranger in charge of the permits is Eddy-the-vet's dad?"

Ethan nods. "You seemed to have a nice chat with him the other day. Could you possibly ask him for a favor?"

The guy who flirted outrageously, but never called me? The guy with the prettiest face I've ever seen? The guy whom my followers are still asking about? Yes, why don't I just call him up and ask him for a favor?

I'd rather eat my lost boots than beg him for a favor. "Ethan, the thing is "

"Please, Aunt Mandy?" He may be seventeen, but Ethan's still got the little boy puppy dog eyes down pat.

I open my mouth to shut him down, but instead, for some reason, I say, "I'll call, but I can't promise you that it'll help."

Ethan closes his eyes and mutters, "Yes." For once, I feel like a rock star. It's nice to be the one people are grateful for, the one that people are excited to have on their side.