“Willis isn’t talking about our house,” said the kid, looking angrily at Kirby. “He’s talking about the whole valley.”
Kirby said, “There’s plenty of room right on this ranch. You could even keep your cattle. There’s plenty of room. This place is too beautiful to keep to yourself.”
Willis fixed his ice blue eyes on Kirby, raising hairs on the back of Kirby’s neck. “You think a resort hotel won’t change this place? All those people, all their trash, all their cars?”
Kirby didn’t like this hick, getting angry now, leaning into his ice blue stare. “I was speaking with Mrs. Potter, not with you.” The hick didn’t flinch.
“Mr. Kirby,” said Carolyn, still looking at Willis. “. . . everyone speaks their mind in this house.” She finally looked at Kirby, cold and absolute. “Everyone.”
“Ouch! Sorry, I just . . .”
Idiots.
Kirby shrugged and forked in a mouthful of potato.
“Willis is our friend,” said the kid, looking at Willis instead of Kirby. “He built this place. He has the right to ask whatever he wants.” He looked at the Indian now. “So does John.”
Looking at Kirby, smiling a little, Carolyn said, “So does Mr. Kirby.” She smiled warmly at the kid. “Jason’s the one you need to ask.” She looked at Kirby. “The family trust goes to the first born male heir in perpetuity. This ranch, the bank, the mineral and timber rights, they all belong to Jason.”
And that’s that. The kid would never go for it.
“Well, it was just a thought.”
Willis set his knife and fork down, his food barely touched, looking very uncomfortable.
This discussion could wait until Kirby got alone with Carolyn.
The new clock chimed once.
5:30pm.
Willis said, “Getting late. Moon’ll be up by ten. I’d better get going.” He looked at Jason. “Be sure you bar the doors.” He threw Kirby a brief, icy grin, slid from the booth and stood, waiting for the Indian.
The Indian nodded and slid out.
Speaking to Carolyn, Willis said, “Mighty toothsome vittles, ma’am. Thank you for the invite. Good Christmas.” He dipped his head to everyone, including Kirby.
What an illiterate boob.
The Indian said, “Very fine supper, ma’am. Thank you.”
Carolyn and the kid got up and they all went into the living room. The dog woke up from under the table and bumped past Kirby, following the others.
Kirby stood and followed them into the living room.
They all stood in the entry, the hick and the Paiute pulling on their coats. The Paiute put on his broad brimmed black hat and both men stepped outside.
Kirby followed up to the entry. The blast of cold air cleared Kirby’s senses and his resentment toward this stupid hick clod-buster grew. Changing this place into a money maker was a great idea. It had too much to offer. It was perfect. He wrapped his sport coat tight to his chest and stayed inside the entry.
Her and her obnoxious kid could wave all the goodbyes out there they wanted, them and their stupid dog.
Too damn cold out there.
Phew, those stinking flower.
He turned into her office, got a fresh glass, some ice, opened a fresh bottle and filled the glass with rye whiskey. He took a drink and returned to the entry.
Carolyn and the kid came inside and closed the door.
Thank you.
The kid glared at Kirby. “You ruined our Christmas dinner.” He shoved past Kirby with his stupid dog and Kirby could still smell those stinking flowers. The stench soured his stomach. He took a drink.
Carolyn gave Kirby an apologetic smile and shrug. She probably agreed with her little monster. “I don’t like his talking like that. He should be more respectful.”
Yeah.
Kirby followed her down into the spacious living room.
The kid looked at the bicycle like he wanted to kick it.
“Jason, stop that!” She marched across the living room and spun him around. “You apologize to Mr. Kirby.”
“No, I won’t.” The little monster’s anger more than matched hers, staring at her like he wanted to kick her too.
She spun him around and swatted his bottom, instantly flinching her wrist in pain.
His dog didn’t like it, growling at her.
“You shut up.”
The dog growled again.
None of this was Kirby’s fault.
I need to get back on track.
“Carolyn, it’s okay. He doesn’t need to apologize to me. It’s his Christmas and it’s his house.”
Carolyn pursed her lips and shook her head. “He’s getting just too big for his britches.” She held both of the kid’s shoulders at arm’s length, looking into his anger. “Now, you apologize to Mr. Kirby. He should be allowed to speak freely in our home like everybody else, don’t you think?”
The kid looked at his feet and leaned back against her grip, thinking about what she'd said. Without looking at Kirby, he said, “Okay, I’m sorry.” Her stupid little monster didn’t mean it.
Be smart for once.
He'd play the forgiving father. “That’s alright, Jason. I apologize for any discomfort my comments might have caused.”
Perfect.
They'd both appreciated that one.
Wait a minute.
“There’s something I’ve meant to do.” He climbed to the entry, set his whiskey on the table and went outside. Snow came down hard but those stinking flowers were protected under the deep roof overhang. He hurried down the steps and yanked a bunch of flowers. They snapped off at the frozen ground. He showed them toward her face. "These smell like skunk."
Her dismay sent him up two steps. He extended the flowers, prompting her to take a whiff.
She smelled, coughed and spun away.
He said, “Yeah, me too.” He yanked and snapped more flowers off at the cold, hard ground.
“What are you doing?” The kid yanked at Kirby’s shoulders from the porch, trying to make him stop.
“These flowers stink. Here, take a whiff.” Kirby thrust a handful into the kid’s face.
The kid wrinkled his nose and leaned back. “I don’t care. Willis planted those.”
“So what?” All the flowers were gone now, busted, yanked and tossed into the driveway where falling snow covered them quickly.
“I hate you.”
