the Broward Webb Broward Heritage Ranch, always served as the perfect place to discuss business—both personal and professional.
Grandpa Charles, the family patriarch, pounded the side of his chair with his fist. “I want to know what’s going on. I want to know where we’re headed before we get there. Who is doing this?” he said, asking the question they all wanted to know the answer to. Why had their beloved town of Granger, Montana, suddenly been thrust into the spotlight by an unnamed investor—or several investors for that matter, they weren’t sure how many interested people there were.
That’s what worried Jameson the most. The lack of transparency. Unfortunately, however, one particular land sale had been made clear, brutally so, and had struck him and his entire family in the heart.
“What can we do about Wes?” his mother, Gwendolyn Broward asked. She sat across from him, poised and graceful like the professional horsewoman she was. She was worried, very much so, but kept her voice and features calm. She was an attractive woman whose youthful looks belied her age of fifty-six.
“Nothing. The land is gone,” his father, Steven, said as he stroked his graying beard. Jameson could hear the hurt and dismay in his voice. His father, Charles, along with his three brothers had been responsible for developing their land into a lucrative ranching business. Millions of dollars, and years of blood and sweat, had gone into creating the family business they expected to keep.
Betrayal. He’d experienced it before, but he hadn’t expected it from his own flesh and blood. Jameson knew that just like him, his father felt hurt by what his younger son, Wes, had done. Without telling anyone, he’d sold his land to Samara Lionne, a Hollywood actress no less. Yes, Jameson’s brother was the reason for the family get-together. Not the buying up of the town, not even the mystery of the buyers, but the fact that a member of their own family had completed a substantial transaction without telling them.
Although, technically the land he sold was not part of their family land, it was still Granger land, and they all felt it shouldn’t have been sold to an outsider. They’d known Wes had been entertaining buyers, but they’d never thought he’d go through with a sale without at least warning them or giving them an option to buy it themselves. But, either in an act of cowardice or just pure luck, Wes hadn’t stuck around to deal with the ramifications of his actions. He was off traveling in Europe with his fiancée, Lydia. Jameson didn’t like to think too cruelly of his brother, but he always knew that Wes had never loved the land the way Jameson and the rest of the family did. The land was Jameson’s life. His heart. It was the one thing that never betrayed him. It never let him down. The ranch and the town of Granger were all he had and he would fight to the death to maintain it for generations to come.
And, just like the rest of the family, Jameson had a feeling something shady was going on. They needed to find out what. Both his father and grandfather had been unable to get straight answers from people in town or their trusted friends. Unfortunately, over time, many of the old-timers of Granger had either retired and moved away or had died or, as was the case with most of the current residents, their children were more like Wes and were looking for ways to make money off the land.
Gwendolyn shook her head, casting a quick glance at Jameson as if she expected him to say something. He remained silent. “Why didn’t he just come to us? We would have bought it from him.”
“I never thought I’d live to see the day one of us would sell land instead of buy it,” Grandpa Charles said, for a moment looking older than his eighty-four years. His blue eyes tired, he also sent Jameson a look as if hoping he could add something, but Jameson looked away. Charles had grown up on the land that his father, Silas Broward, had claimed as a homestead in the 1930s. While the Depression’s strong grip decimated lives in the big cities, Silas had built up the ranch one horse at a time, raising four sons with his wife, Olivia. Charles and his brother, Stanley, grew the Broward Ranch into a highly successful cattle breeding operation. Stanley also raised four sons who had prospered and owned ranches in another part of Montana.
Jameson felt that ranching wasn’t just a family tradition. It was a calling. He knew that both his father and grandfather wanted him to speak at this gathering, but he had nothing to say. Nothing that could be said to his family. He was seething but kept his face a neutral mask. His brother had a right to do what he wanted with his land. Because it wasn’t part of the BWB Ranch, it wouldn’t affect their bottom line, but it was the recklessness that bothered him. And the fact that Wes always did exactly what he wanted as long as it made him happy. It didn’t bother Wes that outsiders were sweeping into Granger like vultures to taint the pristine land with their foolhardy dreams of ranch or farm work, most of which they had seen romanticized on TV and in the movies. He looked at his younger sister, Laney, who was unusually quiet.
“Is there any way to talk to this woman?” Gwendolyn asked.
Steven sighed. “Damn it, I told you he did it too quickly for us to do anything.”
“Change is on its way,” Grandpa Charles said. “But sometimes it worries me. This ranch was built up one horse at a time, but others see a quick buck and don’t care about the people or this place. They don’t care that there are people who depend on us. Granger has been a major employer for cowboys and ranch hands who want to work the land.”
“Dad, things will work out,” Steven said to his father. He quickly looked at Jameson as if he wanted him to speak up. Jameson folded his arms instead. “Besides, it was Wes’s land. It was not officially a part of our family heritage. So, he had the right and freedom to sell it to whomever he wanted and for whatever amount he wanted. I just wish he had given us a chance.”
Excuses. All Jameson heard his father say were excuses. Excuses for Wes. Excuses to explain away how his younger son’s actions had hurt them.
“Jameson,” Steven finally said, clearly the only one brave enough to involve him in the conversation. They all had been sending glances to him, as if he were a volcano they expected to erupt. But he was too controlled for that. Yes, he was furious. He was enraged by a feeling of helplessness he couldn’t contain, but exposing how he felt wouldn’t be something he’d let them see again. They’d seen it once before, more than ten years ago when a woman had ripped his heart apart.
At twenty-two, Meredith Palmer, the woman he’d planned to spend the rest of his life with, had ended their relationship. She’d been his first love. She was his high school sweetheart and after they’d graduated, they’d maintained a long-distance romance while he’d studied agribusiness at Montana State University in Bozeman and she’d attended a college back East. He’d imagined them growing old together and making his family’s business even more successful than his father had. But with one phone call a few weeks before his graduation from college, she’d dashed his hopes.
“I’ve met someone else,” she’d said over the phone, as if she was reciting a weather report. Her words had been cool, practiced. What she had to say was stated without a single sign of emotion, while every word pierced his heart.
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t marry you.”
Jameson thought of all the people who expected them to get married. Damn, he’d expected it. He’d had his whole life planned and at that moment it was coming apart at the seams. He knew he couldn’t win her back, and frankly, he didn’t want to. Years before he’d even looked at another woman.
He’d thought Priscilla Clark would make a perfect rancher’s wife. But he soon learned he’d been wrong. He should have known it wouldn’t work from the beginning. For one, she’d kept calling him “James,” which he hated. But he’d forgiven her all her faults, primarily because she was very pretty,
