Page 6 of Burning for You
“One and three quarters. I’ll be fine!” I gesture for my old man to deal with Jesse.
“She looks like Lucy!” Jesse’s voice curls through the dining room separating us, arriving at my ear with seemingly no loss of volume and crudity.
Anger draws me back into the living room.
“He’s just teasing you, son.” Dad pulls me by the shoulder.
Lucy’s death has torn Jesse and me apart, and ten years on, we still don’t know how to deal with each other.
For Dad's sake, I decide not to entertain Jesse’s provocation. I take solace in cooking a meal for my family, and tonight I’m making Dad’s favorite: roast beef and potatoes with all the trimmings.
In the end, my dad has to help me with the roast tray and the serving. The food seems to shut everyone up. We sit around the dining table like civilized men.
“You still have a country touch when it comes to food, I can give you that,” Jesse finally breaks the silence. He then continues munching like a grazing buck. “I wish you made more.”
“Take mine,” I say.
“Serious? Thanks!” Jesse quickly pierces his fork into my slice of beef.
“Jesse!” Dad says in a gruff tone. “You’re not twelve anymore! Give it back.”
“It’s okay, Dad,” I say.
But my dad stands up and rounds the table to get to his eldest son. He snatches Jesse’s plate and slides the stolen slice back onto my plate.
“Alright, let’s be nice to each other now,” the old man says and sits back down.
Jesse turns to him. “You can’t bow down to Rupert and his men, Dad. If that prick returns, call me!”
“And what? You’re going to kill him?” Dad says. “You go to jail, and what will happen to me?”
Jesse shakes his head.
“We have to let those horses go,” Dad tells me.
“I brought some cash with me,” I say. “I’m sorry I haven’t se—”
“Levi!” Dad cuts into my word. “I’m grateful, but please don’t say sorry.”
Between mockery and amusement, Jesse says to me, “What happened to internet banking? New Yorkers still deal with cash, do they?” Then he narrows his gaze, looking certain he’s found an explanation. Acting out his best coke-sniffing move, he says, “Do I get a discount? I’ll be your best customer.”
“I’m no drug dealer, Jesse,” I say. Although I’d rather have them think it’s drug money; it would be somewhat acceptable, compared to what I actually did to earn that cash.
“Shame,” Jesse sneers.
I turn to Dad. “I’ve got twenty-five grand. Does it mean you still have to sell Grudge?”
“I’m sorry, son.”
I sigh. “Who’s this Highpoint Properties?”
Dad puts his knife and fork down. “I owe them. They lent me fifty grand when the draught started, then more, and more. Selling is the only way to pay them off. The horses are part of the deal, and I don’t want any trouble. After this, no more buy-outs. I’m saving this land for you, Jesse. And the Little Random Lake is still yours, Blue Jay.”
I knew the ranch has been in trouble for quite some time, but this latest development worries me. The way Dad touches his face and his attempts to escape my eyes tell me this is far from over. “How much do you owe them now?”
“It’s done,” Dad says assertively, but his face is scrunched, as if his own words hurt.
“Were you tricked? Where was your lawyer?” Then I glare at Jesse. “Where were you?”