Page 109 of Bad Decisions & Back Roads

“That’s not how ricochets work!”she shot back.

Across the room, Timothy, Josh, and Mark crowded around the television with beers in hand and a baseball game on loud enough to compete with the children.A hitter had flipped his bat after a home run, and somehow it had become a full courtroom trial.

“It’s disrespectful,” Josh argued.“Somebody’s going to end up wearing that bat.”

Timothy pointed at the screen.“The man just took a ninety-eight mile-an-hour fastball into the next county.Let him have his moment.”

Mark laughed.“You only like it because you’d do worse.”

“Absolutely.”

Their voices tangled together with the clatter of dishes, the squeak of sneakers on hardwood, Buck barking at flying foam darts… It was loud.Messy.Alive.

For the first time in a long time, I wasn’t standing outside of it looking in.I belonged in it.

We’d buried Mama and Misty beneath the old oak at the property line where the shade stretched longest in the evenings.It felt right having them there together, somewhere peaceful at last.My father… I’d handed his ashes over to his second family and walked away clean.I didn’t want him near us.

The McClary land still sat heavy on my shoulders.Mark had taken over transitioning the day-to-day beef operation to another manager, which helped more than I expected.I hoped to demolish the house.Nothing but bad memories remained in the place.

Lisa had also helped me accept a generous offer on the Tennessee property—enough money, she said, to keep my groceries paid well into retirement.That eased some of the pressure.Maybe it even meant I didn’t have to drive myself quite so hard at work anymore, though stepping into the role of medical director for farm animal medicine had brought far more responsibility than anticipated.

I slipped out onto the front porch for air.

Mason rocked quietly at one end.Buck followed me out and curled beside his boots.

“Can I join you?”I asked softly.

“Course.”He tipped his beer toward the empty rocker beside him.

I sat and let the chair creak beneath me.For a minute we just rocked in silence, listening to muffled laughter spill through the screen door.

Then I asked, “Can I get some advice?”

“Always.”

I stared out toward the fence line separating Hurst land from McClary land.One side familiar.One side haunted.

“What do you recommend I do with the McClary farm?”

Mason let out a slow breath.“Did you ask Timothy what he thinks?”

“He’s got plenty of opinions.”I smiled faintly.“I wanted yours.Do I keep it separate?Let y’all incorporate it?Sell part of it?I don’t have the time or interest to manage it.”

Mason looked out over the pasture, dark and endless beneath the moonlight.“This land here?”He motioned around us.“This is Hurst legacy.Always will be.”Then he nodded toward the far side of the fence.“That over there is McClary legacy.Your people may’ve mishandled it, but the land itself ain’t done anything wrong.”

I swallowed hard at that.

“What do you want?”he asked.

The answer came easier than I expected.“I want to stop running beef.I’m not a cattle person.”

He nodded once, like that mattered more than anything else I’d said.“Good.That’s honest.”

“I don’t want the place wasted either.”My voice quieted.“But I can’t bear the thought of carving it up or leasing it out to strangers.”

Mason took a long pull from his beer before speaking again.“Then maybe you let Timothy take it over for now.”His mouth tipped into a small smile.“The boy may have fought this life tooth and nail, but he’s turned this place profitable.He’s good at this.His ideas work.Maybe trust him.”

I looked back through the screen door.“I do trust him.”