I went with Collier Schmidt because I remembered him from going to high school with his kids. His son was in my grade and I’d dated his daughter, who’d been two years older than me, when she was a senior.
As I drove to his office, I wondered what he’d think if he knew his daughter initiated our sex. She’d been my first, but I hadn’t been her first. Not that she’d been promiscuous. But she’d never been without a boyfriend since I’d known her. At the time, I remembered feeling like the big guy of the sophomore class because I was dating a senior.
That first time having sex, I was scared shitless that I was going to embarrass myself. After that, sex was easy, until Sinclair. I was scared with her too. Scared it was a mistake and I’d ruin our friendship. Scared that I’d hurt her because I was pretty sure it was her first time. Scared Ryder would kick my ass, not that he could, but that I’d have to let him because friends didn’t fuck their friend’s sister. And when it was done, I nearly panicked when I realized I hadn’t used a condom. I didn’t say anything to her because I didn’t want to scare her either. Maybe she was on the pill. Sinclair was the type of girl to be responsible like that. When a couple of weeks passed and she didn’t say anything about a pregnancy, I could be confident I was in the clear. Then my father beat my mom, I beat my father, and I left town.
Jesus, my life was one big risky move after another.
I parked in the parking lot in front of Schmidt’s law office, deciding to walk in instead of call, hoping that would give me a better chance to be seen.
“Why, as I live and breathe. It’s Wyatt Jones.”
I nearly laughed as Jeannette Schmidt, the girl who’d taken my virginity, greeted me. “Jeannette, how are you?”
“Good.” She gave me a friendly hug. “I didn’t know you were back.”
I nodded. “Yep. Back on the ranch. You working with your dad?”
“I got my law degree and instead of moving to New York, like I’d planned, I came home. Married Mark Carson. Have two kids.”
I wasn’t jealous, but I did have a moment of emotion thinking that could have been Sinclair’s story. Get her degree. Come home to marry her sweetheart. Have a couple of kids. That was what we’d planned.
“How about you? What’s your story?”
I shrugged. “Ran away from home. Joined the military. Did a few tours. Dad abandoned Mom. Come home to save the family farm.”
She made a face of disgust. “Stark after your place too?”
“Yep. That’s why I’m here. There’s some weird deal about how the farm is passed through the family. My dad wants to sell and keep the money. My mom insists he can’t do that because he’s not living and working on the farm. I want help in figuring out my rights and what I can do to fight Stark.”
“You’re in luck, because I have some time, if you want.”
“I don’t have the deed or will information…or whatever you’d need from me.” I was an idiot to come unprepared.
“I can search public records.”
I followed her into her office. It was neat and tidy, with pictures of Mark looking rounder and softer than he had as a high school football player, and two cute kids.
“What’s Mark up to these days?”
“Fighting Stark and growing soybeans.”
Good. She’d understand. Sinclair was on our side, but I wasn’t sure she truly understood the farming life. She’d grown up in Salvation, but not on a farm. Her mother was primarily an at-home mom while her father owned the local grocery, selling many of the goods grown in Salvation.
“So, let me see what I can find on your farm,” she said, typing into her computer. A few minutes later she gave a soft laugh. “Well, that’s interesting.”
“What?” Of course, I had an idea.
“This goes back to practically the beginning of the farm and how it passes to the descendants. It says here that the farm can’t be sold unless all adult Jones eligible for ownership agree. I assume that’s you and your dad.”
“Right.”
“It also says that ownership involves living and working the land, which if I understand correctly, eliminates your father.”
“I hope so,” I said.
“But this part… I don’t suppose you’re married?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Your claim is better than your father’s as you’re here and I assume you’re running the ranch?”
“I am.”
“But to sell, you need to be married.”
“I don’t want to sell. I want to keep the land. I want Stark to not be able to buy the land.”
She frowned. “This is strange, because it’s almost as if your land is unsellable because neither you nor your father has absolute ownership. If your father came home that would be different.”
“I’m told he filed divorce papers.”
She bit her lip as she studied her computer a little bit more. “We could go to court and petition to have you deemed the rightful owner as a means to protect the family farm against Stark.”
“Is Stark doing that with my father? He had some goons show up and try to tell us my father was selling the farm.”
“It’s possible. I think your claim is better, and I’d recommend you file to get a judgement that you own the farm.” She looked at me, lacing her fingers together and resting them on her desk. “It would help if you were married. Any prospects in that department?”
“No. But I could try without
