belongs to you now. You can do anything you want with it.”
Zach stared at him. “Why did the old man leave me anything?” he said at last. “He hated my guts.”
Cade sighed and scrubbed his hand down his face. “Yeah, that’s pretty much how I felt when I heard he’d left us the Triple C.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Mariah convinced me the old man had a change of heart. She worked for him and lived here on the ranch for the last several years, took care of him when he got sick. She says he regretted the drinking and everything that came with it. And Wayne says he stopped drinking and became a hermit after we all left.”
“He stopped drinking?” Zach stared at Cade. “That’s hard to believe.” Although if Wayne Smalley had told Cade that Joseph Coulter had given up alcohol, it was hard to dispute the claim. Zach had known his parents’ friend, and Wayne’s buddies—Asa Kelly and Ben Hol-comb, since he was a child.
“I know.” Cade nodded in agreement. “But it seems to be true.”
Zach lifted his mug and realized he’d emptied it. He pushed back his chair and stood, crossing to the counter and the coffeemaker. Beside him, Mariah removed bread from the toaster and proceeded to spread butter on the slices.
“It’s true.” She glanced sideways at him, her brown gaze level. “I never saw him take a drink in the three-plus years I’ve lived here.”
“Hmm,” Zach responded noncommittally. He’d worked with men who drank too much and concealed it from most people. Where there was a will, there seemed to always be a way. Nonetheless, Mariah apparently was convinced Joseph Coulter had quit the bottle and if she wanted to believe, who was he to question her conviction?
“Tell me about the will,” he said as he returned to the table and Cade. “I’ll read the entire document and whatever else Anderson put in the envelope later but for now, give me the Reader’s Digest version.”
“It’s pretty straightforward,” Cade told him. “Dad left everything he had to the four of us—you, me, Eli and Brodie—except for the cabin and the three acres it sits on. He left that to Mariah.”
Surprised, Zach’s gaze flicked across the room just as Mariah turned from the stove with a steaming plate of food. She met his gaze calmly as she slid the plate of steak, eggs, hash browns and toast on the tabletop in front of him.
“Thanks,” he murmured. “Looks great.”
“You’re welcome.” She smiled and went back to the counter, returning with a carafe of coffee and setting it in the center of the table before slipping back into her chair.
Zach wasn’t sure how he felt about his grandparents cabin being given away outside the family, but Cade seemed fine with it. He decided to question his brother later, outside Mariah’s hearing.
“Go on.” He nudged Cade as he cut into the steak and began to eat.
“As I told you earlier, Dad left each of us individual assets that we solely control. He left me the livestock except for the horses, Eli gets Mom’s studio and the contents and Brodie has the horses. And you got the Lodge.”
Zach lifted his head, his attention caught. “What horses? Are the Kigers still here?”
Cade shrugged. “I don’t know—haven’t gone looking for them. Figured I’d leave that for Brodie to find out.”
“Hard to believe Dad didn’t sell the Kigers,” Zach commented. “Mom loved those mustangs and he got rid of everything she loved when she died.”
“That’s what I thought,” Cade agreed. “But since I’ve been back, I learned he did several things that didn’t make sense. For instance, he left longhorns in the far pasture. They interbred with Brahma stock and Herefords that probably escaped the lower pastures and climbed into the rough country. We rounded up enough rodeo stock and whitefaces to make a payment on the taxes.”
“Why didn’t Dad sell them years ago?” Zach asked, puzzled. “It wasn’t like him to let an asset sit idle, especially not cattle.”
Cade glanced at Mariah, then back at Zach. “Mariah says he was sick for several years before he died. It’s possible he didn’t have the energy to drive them in and brand them.”
“Hmm.” Zach considered Cade’s words. It was hard to picture his father without the physical strength and energy to run the Triple C. The last time he’d seen Joseph, he was a strong, physically powerful man. He shook off the questions that rose with the thought and looked at his brother. “So tell me the bad news. None of this sounds like you’d need my input. What’s wrong?”
“The inheritance taxes are astronomical and there are no cash assets.”
Zach went still, eyes narrowing over Cade. “So we have to sell?” he asked slowly, surprised at the instant rejection of the idea that slammed into him.
“That’s one option,” Cade agreed. “But it’s one we can’t take without all four of us agreeing. And, so far, you and I are the only ones here.”
“You mean we all have to agree before we can sell any sections of land?” Zach guessed shrewdly.
“Exactly.” Cade nodded and leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table, his mug cupped between his hands. “As I said, I rounded up cattle and sold off all I could to make a payment on the taxes. Anderson said it bought us some time, but we’re going to need a hell of a lot more to clear the tax debt.”
“No other assets?” Zach asked. “What about Mom’s collections—and Dad’s. Did he sell them all off after we left?” Zach had vivid memories of the art, antiques and historical artifacts his parents had gathered. His favorite had been the dozens of wagons, buggies and other conveyances that had filled a huge storage building a mile from the ranch house.
“If any of Mom’s sculptures were in her studio when Dad locked the doors and sealed the building after she died, they have the potential to be very valuable. Mom’s more famous now than she was when she was alive and working. And if Brodie decides to sell some of the horses—if there are any horses—they could be worth quite a bit.” Cade paused to lift his mug and drink. “And if you find a way to raise money with the Lodge, it could go a long way to paying off the tax debt. I’m assuming you don’t have a few extra million sitting in a bank account that you’d be willing to use?” he added drily, his lips quirking.
“Me?” Zach shook his head. “I have investments, but nothing I can liquidate to get that kind of cash.” He eyed Cade. “Exactly how much money are we talking about here, in round figures?”
The amount Cade quoted had Zach whistling softly.
“That’s a hell of a lot of zeroes,” he said. “If we all agreed, what about selling off some acres of land to raise the money?”
“We could do that,” Cade told him. “But if we do, the size of the Triple C would be radically reduced. And if we want to keep it, we’d have a hard time making it profitable.”
“So we either find a way between the four of us to raise the money to pay the taxes, or we sell the ranch intact, pay off the taxes, split what’s left between the four of us and walk away.”
“That’s about the size of
