Prologue
I had made the day-long journey from my family ranch in Mercy to the lawyer’s office in South Dakota. All on the promise that I might finally get what was owed to me. ‘I am not going home empty-handed,’ I told myself as I watched the short blonde receptionist call through the intercom to the office behind a set of large wooden doors.
Those same doors swung open only a minute later, revealing a short, balding man striding towards me.
I pulled off my Stetson before holding out my hand to shake.
He spoke first. “Mr. Jacobson, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He said as he finally shook my outstretched hand, “My name is Lewis Snyder. Why don’t we head into my office and we can discuss your inheritance?” He gestured to his office behind the large open doors. We walked in silence, Mr. Snyder quietly closing the doors behind us. I took a seat in a large dark leather chair, throwing my Stetson on the small table in front of me and waiting quietly as he took his seat in a large leather office chair behind an even larger mahogany desk.
“If you would allow me a moment to offer you my deepest condolences for your loss, your great-aunt Irene was such a charismatic woman, a ray of light in a dark land, a true measure of sunshine, and she will be sorely missed... not just by me, but the entire company.” The grey-haired man gestured dramatically—a cane and a top hat short of a show on Broadway.
I gritted my teeth as I tried my best to not interrupt his grade-A brown-nosing. I sighed softly, ’Lord, help me; he’s so boring! HURRY UP! Let’s get down to business. I have a job to get back to.′ The little patience I had for lawyers was wearing thin. I let out a low growl.
His eyes widened before clearing his throat. Before beginning to tap on the desk rhythmically, quickly after another low growl of impatience. “I can see you are not a man with a lot of time to spare, so I will be as concise as possible. Mr. Jacobson, your aunt imposed a series of requirements that your older brother was required to pass in order to inherit the ranch and all of its surrounding land. After his recent refusal of the inheritance, it passes to you. But there is still a need for you to pass the imposed requirements before you are to inherit the property.”
This time the growl was anything but low as I sprang out of my chair. “Requirements? My brother said nothing about requirements; my siblings didn’t say anything about requirements.” I began to argue, my boots firmly planted on the hardwood floors beneath me.
“Your siblings’ inheritances did not impose any requirements, however, Mr. Jacobson.”
I held my hand up to interrupt, “Max, call me Max.”
“Very well,” he agreed with a simple nod of his head. “Max, none of your siblings are set to inherit such a large and financially profitable property; surely you cannot expect your aunt to just hand it over without some level of compliance.”
He made a fair point, but I wasn’t in the mood to stroke any egos. “So my aunt set requirements; how many?” The question had to be asked.
“Your Great Aunt Irene had a flair for the literary arts and compiled it into what she called ‘The Three M’s’...” He gestured dramatically.
Three? That’s not sounding too bad...
Snyder continued “Maturity, Military, and Marriage.”
I spoke too soon. I exhaled and stood up; I needed to move. I began pacing the length of the room. I pulled a hand through my hair. I was in need of a haircut. I reminded myself to visit the barbershop when I got back to Mercy.
“Please, Mr. Jacobson... Max, if you will allow me to explain,” he held up both of his hands. “Maturity was met when you turned 25 years of age, and I believe you have some served time in the military.” He asked with a hopeful look, raising his eyebrows in expectation.
I nodded. “Six years with the US Marine Corps.” I began to calm down and sat back down.
He counted the two requirements on his right hand. “So your only real outstanding requirement is marriage.” He explained waggling his third finger.
Prison isn’t nice for cops, I reminded myself as I imagined snapping off the waggling finger. It wasn’t like I could go to the store buy a can of beans and just pick up a wife off the shelf. I picked up my Stetson from the small table and stood ready to leave. I needed to get out of the suffocating office before I did something stupid.
“There are what you may consider some ‘further complications’ associated with the requirement,” he air quoted. I hate a man who uses air quotes.
I threw my hat down on his huge desk, crossing my arms as I waited for the anvil to drop on my head. “Go on,” I commanded through gritted teeth as I sucked in a calming breath.
“There is a time requirement,” he started, and my gut tightened. “You must marry before the time your great-aunt stipulated in her Last Will and Testament, or the property and all the land on which they sit will be divided and sold.”
I hate lawyers, I told myself as I tried to comprehend what the lawyer was saying. “Let me understand what you’re trying to tell me behind all that fancy lawyer talk: If I don’t marry within the time that my crazy Great Aunt imposed, you are going to sell my home, my business, and 200 years of the blood, sweat, and tears that my family have sacrificed to survive two world wars, an economic nightmare, AND A WAVE OF IDIOTS WHO THINK MEAT COMES FROM MUSHROOMS!!.” I was shaking with anger by the time I finished. I looked towards him.
He was silent for a moment. I watched him squirm as he tried to think of a way to say what I already knew. He took a deep breath before finally speaking. “Frankly, yes, that is what I am saying.”
Finally, the first real sentence I’d heard from him in the entire duration of the meeting. “Can the time frame be fought?” I asked my stomach in knots as I awaited the inevitable.
“I’m afraid the requirements are ironclad; contesting them will only waste time and money.”
‘Well, at least he’s being honest with me,’ I told myself as I tried to push through the haze of anger and confusion. Fighting the ever-tightening gut “I think we both know my next question,” I stared into the short man’s dark eyes.
“Thanksgiving,” Mr. Snyder replied flatly.
I exhaled, nodding as I began to relax a little. “Next Thanksgiving? That would give me just over a year to find someone" - and persuade them to run away to Vegas with me.
The lawyer was quiet again—too quiet. I looked back towards him; it almost looked like he was tensing in anticipation. He grimaced before finally speaking, “This Thanksgiving...” He grimaced.
My senses dulled, and I recoiled as if I had been hit by a speeding car. All I could do was blink... I fell back into the large plush chair behind me. When I finally came back to my senses, the rage overcame me: “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” I screamed as Snyder urged me to take a breath. “I work 90 hours a week in a parish town with a population of two hundred people. When do you suggest I find someone to marry?” I asked expectantly. In the rage I had found myself on my feet again, leaning over the large mahogany desk.
“If you prefer; we can start the Sale paperwork of the property. As the next in line, you will of course have first right of purchase...” He began
I was seething with anger. “No!” I growled loudly before paddling the room again. Taking a few calming breaths as I walked back and forth in the large office. I eventually calmed down and sat back down. “I’ll figure something out.” I slouched back into the large leather chair and looked at the now-calm Mr. Snyder. “Just how married do I need to be?”
“Your aunt must have been a smart woman or a mind reader; she specifies marriage as the exchange of ‘I do’s’ in front of a congregation of your peers and the formal signing of a certificate of marriage.”
What was my aunt thinking? ‘Three M’s.’ “Of course she defined it,” I replied with an unexpected chuckle. I took a deep breath and stood. “November 24,” I asked. Seven days from now.
“Yes,” Mr. Snyder confirmed.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Snyder; I will be in touch.” I shook his hand, grabbed my Stetson, and without another word walked out of the office and onto the street. I pulled the necktie from around my neck, stuffed it into my back pocket, and untucked my shirt.
I walked for a few blocks, not really knowing where I was going. I wandered a little aimlessly til I came across a small park. I walked over and sat on one of the wooden benches. Looking out towards a pond of ducks. I was overwhelmed by the mix of emotions. I didn’t know whether to laugh or to punch something. Instead, I simply slouched back into my seat and tried to consider the possibilities; I knew one thing. I didn’t have the money to buy the ranch, and I didn’t have the time to earn it.
I had one option: I had to get married.
I hadn’t dated all that much; even in the small town, there were plenty of options. I began to remember the faces of all the single women that my mother had tried to set me up with over the years. Had I let my future wife go? I sat with my thoughts for a while. The ringing of church bells in the distance pulled me back to reality. I thought of my dad; he’d have the answer. He always had the answer, but how was I supposed to tell him that I had made such a mess that we were about to lose our family home? I stood up and began to follow the sounds of the church bells until I reached the front step of a small Baptist church. Whitewashed clapboard and open doors. I took the steps two at a time and made my way inside. I took a seat in the back pew. I sat listening to the ringing of the church bells. It wasn’t long before I was approached by a member of the church. A young-looking, redheaded man sat down next to me. I looked toward him and gave him a silent nod. He did the same before he spoke: “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. My name is Todd.”
“Max, I’m from a little town in Montana; I just finished a meeting with my lawyer.”
He grimaced comically. “Lawyers,” he shuddered.
“Boy, do I need a miracle!” I explained with a deep sigh,
“This is the place to find them,” he gestured around the small chapel with a grin.
I chuckled lightly, “I guess so.”
