His Revenge

Chapter One

Chapter One

Jasper

Carthage, Texas—Panola County

January 1st

In the matter of one week, our lives changed drastically. My older brother, Tyrell, sat between me and my younger brother, Cash. A limo had picked us up at the small airport in Carthage, Texas. We’d come in on a private jet—I’d never felt so cool in my life.

We’d never met our grandfather who’d passed away a little before Christmas last year. We’d never met any of our extended family though, so it wasn’t that strange—for our family anyway.

We’d grown up in a suburb of Dallas, Texas, called Seagoville. The town we drove through wasn’t a thing like what we’d come from. The population sign at the Panola county line said there were only a little over six thousand people who called the place home. It wasn’t the smallest town in the world, but it sure was close.

Our grandfather’s attorney, Allen Samuels, sat across from us. Taking a piece of paper out of a folder he had on the seat next to him, he finally started telling us why the hell we were summonsed to Carthage in the first place.

“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—belong to you three men now.” He tapped lightly on the window that separated us from the driver and the chauffeur rolled it down. “Davenport, we need to make a stop at Mr. Gentry’s bank, please.”

“Sure thing,” the driver said, then the window up slowly rolled back up.

The lawyer gave my older brother his attention. “Tyrell, what have you been told about your paternal grandparents?”

“Not much,” Tyrell 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.”

I added my two cents. “Yeah, Mom and Dad didn’t even like to be asked about them. So, we stopped asking early on. Just asking them who our grandparents were put them in terrible moods.”

“I see.” The man’s brown eyes seemed a little on the sad side to me. “Here we are.” Looking around, I noticed we’d pulled into the parking lot of a bank. “I’m going to have you all added to the ranch’s bank accounts. And then we’ll transfer the remainder of your grandfather’s money into personal accounts for each of you—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.”

Since neither Cash nor I spoke up, Tyrell looked at us, then shrugged. “This bank seems as good as any. What do you guys think?”

Cash pushed his hand through his thick dark hair. “Sounds fine to me. It’ll be my first bank account anyway.”

I just shrugged. It wasn’t like I had anything better to do. “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.” I’d never been real good at keeping track of my monetary gains.

None of us were that experienced with money as we were pretty young. Tyrell was twenty-seven, I’d just turned twenty-five, and Cash was only twenty-two. And none of us ever had great jobs either. Money and The Gentrys didn’t exactly go hand in hand.

Tyrell let the man know what we wanted to do. “This bank will do for us just fine, Allen.” We got out of the car, and I saw the driver standing there. Tyrell greeted him. “Thanks. He said your name is Davenport, right?”

The old guy nodded. “Yep. I also drive various tractors and trucks at the ranch. If you need a ride, you call me, and I’ll get you there.”

Tyrell being who he was, didn’t much cotton to formalities. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your first name?”

“Buddy,” the man told him. “Your grandfather liked to put on airs.”

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

“Not at all.” The old man smiled. “It would be nice, actually.”

I figured we ought to introduce ourselves to the man who’d occasionally be driving us around. “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.”

I loved teasing my baby brother; it pissed him off.

“Jasper, you’re the littlest out of all of us, you jerk.”

I flexed my bicep and shoved my hand through my hair in the sexiest of fashions. “By a smidgeon of an inch, Cash. You’re shorter.”

“Also, by a smidgeon of an inch.” Cash wasn’t waiting around for us; he walked up to the door of the bank. “This bank is pretty fancy.”

“It’s the best one in this little town.” The lawyer got in front of Cash to open 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 like he thought that was kind of weird. “How much money are we talking about, Allen?”

The lawyer gave my brother a look that said he couldn’t believe he’d asked such a dumb question. “Are you telling me that even with the jet, the mansion, and the ranch, that you still don’t understand how much money your grandfather was worth?”

“Not a clue.” I finally made it into the bank lobby and looked around the big space kitted out with all sort of leather seating and cowhide rugs on the marble floor. “Whoa. Posh.”

Tyrell looked up at the giant chandelier. “I haven’t seen many banks with a thing like that hanging above peoples’ heads before.”

“This bank deals with a lot of exclusive businesses here in Carthage.”

Everyone inside had turned to look as us as the lawyer escorted us to the very back of the building.

“They can afford certain luxuries that other banks cannot.”

We went through a door and a woman jumped up from behind her desk. “Hello, gentlemen. You must be the Gentrys!”

Tyrell reached out and shook her hand. “Tyrell.”

I gave her a nod. “Jasper.”

Her face lit up when she looked at Cash. “Then you must be Cash.”

He shook her hand. “Yep.” With a smile, Cash asked, “And you are?”

“Sandra, the bank president’s personal assistant.” She turned to lead us through the door behind her. “And if you gentlemen will please follow me, I’ll let Mr. Johnson get things started.” As she opened the door, she looked Tyrell up and down and smiled. “Judging by your blue jeans and T-shirts, I’m going to guess that you all will be greatly surprised by what you’re about to inherit.”

Our dad had shared some things when we got the call about inheriting the ranch he’d grown up on. He’d said not to get our hopes up, that we’d get much more than a headache from the massive debt he was sure our grandfather had gotten himself into.

Mr. Johnson rose from his desk as we entered his large office. Gesturing to the many seating options, he said, “Bryce Johnson, at your service, gentlemen. Please, take seats anywhere you’d like. Can I offer you cigars? They’re Cuban. Or a drink, perhaps? I’ve got a thirty-year-old scotch that would be perfect for this occasion.”

The three of us sat down on the nearest couch as Tyrell got right to the point. “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.”

Cash gave Tyrell a look that could kill. “I’d love a scotch, Tyrell. Let the man handle this meeting, will ya?”

“Scotch for everyone then,” Mr. Johnson said, and his secretary hurried away. “So, Allen hasn’t filled you all in on things?”

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

In no time at all, the woman returned with our drinks. “Here you go, gentlemen. Enjoy.” We each grabbed one, and just by the smell alone, I knew I held something expensive in my hand.

“A hell of a lot of hoopla, don’t ya think?” I asked before taking a sip.

“You’re all worth it,” the woman said as she took a seat.

Mr. Johnson handed us all papers as he explained, “I’ll let the numbers speak for themselves.”

After reviewing the sheet, Tyrell said, “Not sure how to say this number and not sure I understand what it even means. Our father told us there has to be built-up debt.”

The numbers didn’t make sense to me either.

Mr. Johnson just laughed out loud. “Whisper Ranch is one of the most profitable businesses this bank deals with. What you are each looking at is your third of the money that Collin Gentry had in his personal accounts.” He handed another paper to Tyrell. “And this is what’s in the ranch account.”

I’d never seen a more confused expression on my older brother’s face. “If I’m seeing this right, the ranch is worth millions.”

“You’re not seeing it right,” Mr. Johnson said. “Look again.”

“Oh, thousands.” Tyrell just wasn’t getting it.

Cash did get it though. “Tyrell, the ranch is worth billions, and we’ve each inherited fifteen billion dollars.”

Still unable to believe it, Tyrell said, “Dad said there’d be more money to pay out than we’d get.”

Mr. Johnson just shook his head, grinning, as he said, “Your father was wrong. Your grandfather went on from raising cattle alone to raising racehorses, too. You might’ve heard of some of his famous horses. The General’s Son? Old Faithful? Coy’s Burden?”

I still felt more confused than ever. “We’ve never followed horse racing, sir. I guess those are horses on the ranch?”

“They are.” Mr. Johnson nodded. “And they all are prize-winning stallions. Your grandfather began selling their semen, and he made a killing from it. Those sales, along with 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 lawyer had compassion in his eyes as he looked at Tyrell. “Look, I know it’s difficult to understand, but let me show you in writing why that is.” He pulled another paper out of a folder and handed it over. “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 seemed incapable of understanding any of this. “Wait. What?”

The bank president, Johnson, tried to help out. “Your grandparents wanted to make the Gentry name something akin to royalty around here. 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.”

Tyrell looked at me and Cash, both of us just as confused as he was. “Why did they never tell us about that?”

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

“Wow,” Tyrell said. “Seems our parents hid a hell of a lot from us.”

“There’s one more thing you need to know about the will, gentlemen,” the lawyer said. “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.”

“Harsh,” Cash mumbled.

“Yeah,” Mr. Johnson agreed. “Your grandfather was considered to be a harsh man. So harsh that 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 do we come from?