Chapter 3

The confrontation in Dallas was just the start. A few days later, Uncle Robert decided to make his move. He arrived at the ranch with a half-dozen distant cousins I barely knew, all of them looking hungry.

"Ethan," Robert announced, his voice booming with false authority as he strode into the main house, "we need to talk. About the running of this ranch."

Mr. Thompson stood beside me, his presence a silent wall of support.

"There' s nothing to talk about, Uncle Robert," I said, keeping my voice even. "I'm in charge here."

"Now, Ethan, be reasonable," Robert said, trying for a conciliatory tone that didn't fool anyone. "You're young, inexperienced. Grieving. This is too much for one man to handle. We, your family, are here to help."

One of the cousins, a portly man I vaguely remembered from childhood holidays, chimed in, "That's right. We think Robert should take over management, for the good of the family assets."

Their intentions were as clear as glass, they wanted to carve up the Miller Ranch like a Thanksgiving turkey.

"The ranch is not 'family assets' to be divided," I stated. "It's mine, and I will run it."

Robert' s face hardened. "We don't think you're capable, Ethan. Perhaps it's time you stepped aside gracefully." He took a step towards me, Dylan smirking just behind him. It felt like they were about to physically try and remove me.

Mr. Thompson moved slightly, placing himself more squarely between me and my uncle.

Just as the tension was about to snap, a sleek black car pulled up the long driveway, dust billowing behind it. A man in a sharp suit emerged, carrying a briefcase.

"Ethan Miller?" he inquired, his gaze sweeping over the assembled group.

"I'm Ethan Miller."

"A delivery for you, sir. From Governor Sterling's office." He handed me a large, official-looking envelope.

I tore it open, my uncle and his cronies watching with narrowed eyes. Inside, on the Governor' s official letterhead, was a document. I read it quickly.

It was a formal declaration, affirming my position as the sole heir and head of the Miller Ranch trust. It also reiterated the condition, my marriage within the year.

I looked up, meeting Robert's gaze. "It seems the Governor disagrees with your assessment of my capabilities, Uncle." I held up the letter. "This formally recognizes me as the head of the Miller Ranch. Contingent," I added, a new thought forming, "on my upcoming marriage."

The wind went out of Robert's sails. The cousins started muttering amongst themselves. The official seal of the Governor' s office was a powerful deterrent.

"Marriage?" Robert sputtered, thrown off balance.

"Yes," I said. "And the arrangements are already underway."

They looked at each other, their coup deflating before their eyes. The timely arrival of that letter had saved me from a much uglier confrontation. For now.