Stealing His Heart

Chapter One

Chapter One

Cash

Carthage, Texas—Panola County

January 1st

As the snow fell, my heart pounded with each flake I witnessed falling to the ground along the side of the road. A grandfather I not only never had known but hadn’t even heard of had left my brothers and me a ranch in a town a little over an hour away from where we’d lived. A suburb of Dallas was where we’d always called home; now I wasn’t sure where we’d call home.

All I knew for sure was that Mom and Dad weren’t on the attorney’s list of the people who’d inherited Collin Gentry’s things. Even though he was my father’s father, the man had left everything he had to the three of us and no one else. Why? I didn’t know.

Tyrell, the oldest of the three of us, was the one to get a phone call on Christmas day from the man who’d said he was Allen Samuels, our grandfather’s lawyer. He’d set everything up and now we were in Carthage, Texas, about to see what he’d inherited. Our father thought it would be a real headache, but I had other ideas.

We’d ridden on a private plane from Dallas to Cartage’s small municipal airport. From there, Allen came in a limo to pick us up. He sat in front of us, looking through a folder as we all sat quietly, waiting to hear what he had to say.

Finally, the lawyer put the folder down to look at us. “The whole of the estate, that includes Whisper Ranch, the thirty-thousand square foot home that’s on the ranch, and of course all of the vehicles, including the Cessna Citation II you came in on, belongs to you three men now.” Allen looked over his shoulder then tapped on the dark glass that separated us from the driver. I saw the window between the driver and us come down. “Davenport, we need to make a stop at Mr. Gentry’s bank please.”

With a nod, the driver said, “Sure thing.”

Allen turned his attention to Tyrell. “Tyrell, what have you been told about your paternal grandparents?”

“Not much,” my oldest brother said. “My mother’s famous quote when any of us asked about our grandparents was that if one couldn’t say anything nice about a person, they shouldn’t say anything at all. We’d assumed our grandparents weren’t very good people.”

“Yeah, Mom and Dad didn’t like even to be asked about any of them,” my brother Jasper added. “So, we stopped asking when we were very young. Just asking them who our grandparents were put them in terrible moods.”

The lawyer nodded. “I see.” We pulled into the parking lot of the Bank of Carthage. “Here we are. I’m going to have you all put on the ranch’s bank accounts. And we can transfer the remainder of your grandfather’s money into accounts that you each will personally open with this bank. If that’s okay with you. You certainly can open accounts elsewhere if you’d like to. Your grandparents used this bank exclusively for years. I can assure you that the president appreciates Whisper Ranch’s business and does everything they can to keep their customers happy.”

Tyrell shrugged as he looked at Jasper and me; we sat on either side of him. “This bank seems as good as any. What do you guys think?”

Thinking about what we should do, I ran my hand through my hair. “Sounds fine to me. It’ll be my first bank account anyway.” I’d always worked for cash and hadn’t had any need for a bank account before. Now it seemed I would need one.

Jasper shrugged. “Sounds okay to me too. All I’ve got in my bank is about twenty bucks. Hell, I might not even have that. I bought a bottle of Jack before getting on the plane—that might’ve overdrawn my account, and I might owe the bank something.”

“This bank will do for us, Allen,” Tyrell said as we started getting out of the car. “Thanks. He said your name is Davenport, right?”

The driver held the car door open for us. “Yep. I also drive various tractors and trucks at the ranch too. You need a ride, you call me and I’ll get you there.”

Tyrell didn’t look like he was comfortable with something as he asked, “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your first name?”

“Buddy,” the driver said. “Your grandfather liked to put on airs.”

“We’re not like that at all. Mind if we call you Buddy instead?” Tyrell asked.

Buddy seemed happy about that. “Not at all. It would be nice, actually.”

Jasper clapped the man on the back. “Nice to meet you, Buddy. I’m Jasper, this is Tyrell, and the little feller there is Cash, the baby brother of the Gentry family.”

None of us were little fellers, and I always took offense at how Jasper teased me about that. “Jasper, you’re the littlest out of all of us, you jerk.”

Flexing his left bicep while threading his fingers through his dark hair, Jasper replied, “By a smidgeon of an inch, Cash. You’re shorter.”

“Also by a smidgeon of an inch.” I walked ahead of them. “This bank is pretty fancy.”

“It’s the best one in this little town,” Allen said he stepped in front of me, opening the door. “Here we go. Mr. Johnson is the bank president. He’ll be handling this for us.”

“The president will handle all of this?” Tyrell asked, sounding surprised. It had me thinking that bank presidents didn’t often handle things of this nature. “How much money are we talking about, Allen?”

The lawyer c****d his head to one side, looking a little confused. “Are you telling me that even with the jet, the mansion, and the ranch, you still don’t understand how much money your grandfather was worth?”

“Not a clue,” Jasper said as he came inside and looked around. “Whoa. Posh.”

Tyrell came in and looked up at the chandelier in the middle of the ceiling. “I haven’t seen many banks with a thing like that hanging above peoples’ heads before.”

Everyone in the bank looked at us as the lawyer led us to the back of the large, open area. “This bank deals with a lot of exclusive businesses here in Carthage. They can afford certain luxuries that other banks cannot.”

“Hello, gentlemen,” a young woman said as we came into a small office. “You must be the Gentrys.”

My oldest brother introduced himself as he shook her hand. “Tyrell.”

Jasper nodded. “Jasper.”

A smile went clear across her face—and a pretty decent face it was, too. “Then you must be Cash.”

“Yep.” I shook her hand as I smiled back at her. “And you are?”

“Sandra, the bank president’s personal assistant.” She let go of my hand, still smiling away. “And if you gentlemen will follow me, I’ll let Mr. Johnson get things started.” Her attention turned to Tyrell. “By the blue jeans and T-shirts, I assume you’ll will be greatly surprised by what you’re about to inherit.”

Dad had told us that we’d most likely inherit only enough money to pay off our grandfather’s debts. I didn’t have hope for much more than that. But the way the lawyer and secretary acted told me our parents might not have been right about things after all.

As Sandra ushered us in, the bank president got up, greeting us warmly. “Bryce Johnson at your service, gentlemen. Please take seats anywhere you’d like. Can I offer you a cigar? They’re Cuban. Or a drink perhaps? I’ve got a thirty-year-old scotch that would be perfect for this occasion.”

As we sat down, Tyrell answered for all of us. “Okay, Bryce. We’re pretty sure this ranch is swimming in debt. And we’re not even close to being ranchers. Our father’s advice was to find a buyer for it and move on.”

I didn’t see why my oldest brother needed to rush through anything. Narrowing my eyes at him, I let him know what I wanted. “I’d love a scotch, Tyrell. Let the man handle this meeting, will ya?”

“Scotch for everyone then,” the bank president told Sandra, who left to get the drinks. “So, Allen hasn’t filled you all in on things?”

“I have,” the lawyer said. “Not the exact numbers, but I’ve told them about everything they now own. They don’t seem to get it, Bryce.”

Sandra came back with our drinks. “Here you go, gentlemen. Enjoy.” Offering us each a crystal glass of expensive scotch, she gave me another smile. I was used to the attention. Most women did pay special attention to me. I credited my shoulder-length dark waves for most of the attention; my blue eyes didn’t hurt either.

“A hell of a lot of hoopla, don’t ya think?” Tyrell asked just before taking a drink.

Sandra winked at me. “You’re all worth it.” She put the tray down on a nearby table then took a seat on a chair nearest to me.

The bank president gave us each a piece of paper with some numbers on them. “I’ll let the numbers speak for themselves.”

“Not sure how to say this number,” Tyrell said, sounding confused. “And not sure I understand what it even means. Our father told us there has to be debt that the ranch has built up.”

The banker laughed as if that was the craziest thing he’d ever heard. “Whisper Ranch is one of the most profitable businesses this bank deals with. What you each are looking at is your third of the money Collin Gentry had in his personal accounts.” He handed a paper to Tyrell. “This is what’s in the ranch account.”

Still wearing a confused expression, Tyrell said, “If I’m seeing this right, the ranch is worth millions.”

“You’re not seeing it right,” the banker said. “Look again.”

My oldest brother didn’t seem to get it. “Oh, thousands.”

Unlike Tyrell, I did understand the numbers on all the pages we’d been handed. “Tyrell, the ranch is worth billions, and we’ve each inherited fifteen billion dollars.”

Still, my brother wasn’t convinced as he said, “Dad said there’d be more money to pay out than we’d get.”

The bank president set Tyrell straight. “Your father was wrong. Your grandfather went from only raising cattle to raising racehorses. You might’ve heard of some of his famous horses. The General’s Son? Old Faithful? Coy’s Burden?”

“We’ve never followed horse racing, sir,” Jasper said. “I guess those are horses on the ranch?”

“They are,” the banker said. “And they all are prize-winning stallions. Your grandfather began selling their semen and making a killing from it. Those sales, the cattle, and the racehorses have made him a pretty penny. Pennies that now belong to you three.”

“Our father isn’t mentioned at all in the will?” Tyrell asked.

The attorney took that question, which I wanted an answer to as well. “Look, I know it’s difficult to understand but let me show you in writing why that is.” He handed Tyrell another piece of paper. “See, your father signed this paper, stating that he wanted nothing from Collin or Fiona Gentry from that date forward. He wasn’t forced to sign it. Coy did it to prove a point to his parents when they refused to acknowledge his marriage to Lila Stevens.”

Tyrell looked as confused as I felt. “Wait. What?”

“See, your grandparents wanted to make the Gentry name something akin to royalty around here,” the banker told us. “But your father fell in love with a girl from the wrong side of the tracks. A girl whose family lived on welfare. A girl who’d once worked as a maid at the ranch house.”

We all looked confused as Tyrell asked, “Why would they never tell us about that?”

“Most likely because they didn’t want you three to know what they’d walked away from,” the lawyer said. “They chose love over money and their families. Your mother’s family was just as against their marriage as the Gentrys were.”

“Wow, seems our parents hid a hell of a lot from us.” Tyrell looked at Jasper and me as we all felt shell-shocked by the news.

The lawyer wasn’t done talking yet as he went on. “There’s one more thing you need to know about the will, gentlemen. It stipulates that neither your mother nor father are ever allowed on the property. And your grandfather’s money can never benefit them in any way. If you do so much as hand your parents five dollars, the entire estate, that includes the money, will revert to the state of Texas.”

I thought that to be a bit much. “Harsh.”

“Yeah,” the bank president agreed. “Your grandfather was considered to be a harsh man. So harsh, most people think your grandmother died at the age of forty-five, only two years after your father left the ranch, because of his hard ways.”

Who the hell am I related to?