Chapter 5: Stetson

Stetson pulled the alternator off the tractor and carried it over to a workbench. Covered in a thick coating of grease and dirt, it didn't look like much, but he was sure that with a bit of a tune-up, he could make it sing again.

Or at least put-put-put down the field. Wouldn't that be something – he could start using this tractor around the farm a little again. Machines were meant to be used, not to just sit around under a tarp.

"Hey, Stets, you here?" Declan's voice called out as the barn door squeaked and rattled open.

Dammit. What is he doing here?

Declan was certainly Stetson's favorite brother – it wasn't hard to be declared the winner in that contest, considering the competition – but that didn't mean he wanted him here on the farm. Not with the damn banker still here. It wasn't five o'clock yet, so she would still be in their father's office, doing her best to steal the farm away.

Stetson didn't want Declan anywhere near Jennifer-the-Thief.

"Hey, Dec!" Stetson called back, as casual as he could. "I'm back here!" He listened to his brother's cowboy boots echo on the dirty concrete floor, and then he appeared in the doorway, pushing his hat back on his head as he looked around the indoor riding arena that had long ago been turned into a large repair shop.

"Whatcha workin' on?" he asked, making his way through the random piles scattered about. He got over to Grandpa's tractor and let out a little laugh. "Is the farm doing so well, you don't need to worry about working out in the fields anymore? You can take a day to just work on this old thing?"

Stetson shrugged as he fiddled with a nut, pretending to be utterly fascinated by it. He couldn't meet his brother's eye. "I just...wanted to do something a little different today. Figured it was'bout time someone worked on this."

"Yeah, Dad would've loved to see this up and moving again."

They both stood in silence, staring at the family relic. "So," Stetson finally said, clearing his throat and wiping his hands on a grease rag, "what's up?"

"Just wanted to stop by and talk to you about having a family meeting. Are you free on Friday afternoon? With the drought hitting hard this summer, Wyatt's dryland wheat is ripening faster than usual. I think he's anxious to get it out of the fields."

Stetson bit down on the inside of his cheek. Hard. Since Wyatt was the only dryland farmer in the bunch, his wheat always ripened first, which meant he always harvested first. Which meant he could always destroy farm equipment with impunity and then return it without a care in the world because he was cock-sure his brothers would fix it all before starting into their own harvests.

Which was true, mostly because they had no other choice.

"Wyatt...I just don't know," Stetson hedged, trying to figure out a way to get out of sharing farm equipment this year. "You know we haven't been getting along lately."

Or ever.

Stetson decided to leave that part out. "If I have to work with him on harvest again this year, I'm not sure we'd both still be alive by the end of it."

Declan let out a little laugh. They both knew it was true; Declan was just too nice to say it out loud. "C'mon, brother," Declan chided him, "you know it's what Dad would've wanted."

Which was also true, dammit. And it sucked that Declan was willing to play that card, even if it was true.

Of course, he didn't get the title of peacemaker in the Miller family for nothing. He'd been the liaison between his older brother and younger brother since the day Stetson arrived on the scene, and had finely honed his craft over the years. He was the only reason Stetson and Wyatt ever ended up in the same room together. Without Declan serving as a buffer between his two brothers, they would've either stopped talking to each other or killed each other long before now.

It was a toss-up as to which it would've been.

Stetson let out a long sigh. "Yeah. You're right. Fine. Meet me here on Friday? We'll go over our harvest schedules and put together a plan then." Hopefully the banker-a-la-thief would be gone by then.

He could only hope.

Declan grinned. "Awesome. See you then." He turned and started making his way back out of the barn, when he stopped and turned back. "What's up with the fancy car up at the house?"

Dammit, hell, shit, God almighty -

"Just an accountant I hired to come look at the books. You know, make sure they're in tip-top shape." He smiled, trying to act as casual as possible, but he was dying inside. There was no way Declan would fall for that one. It was the stupidest idea known to man. You didn't deal with paperwork; you just threw it in the office, closed the door, and ignored it.

Everyone knew that.

"Great idea! I'm proud of you for thinking of that. Having someone else take over the books is just what you need to do."

Or that. Declan could always think it was a grand idea to invite a bookkeeper into their lives. Stetson barely kept from rolling his eyes. His brother had the most ridiculous ideas sometimes.

"Hell," Declan continued, "I might just go on up to the house and talk to him about coming over to my place and taking a look at my books. Do you - "

"Oh, you shouldn't bother her! Not ummm...not right now. Maybe later. But she has a lot to go through right now. Lots of...paper." He waved his hand in the air vaguely.

Shut

the

hell

up

Stetson gave Declan a weak smile.

"She, eh?" Declan arched an eyebrow teasingly. "Is she a looker?"

"Oh no. Ugly. Mole on her nose. A little hair sprouts out of it."

He had no idea where that came from. Or where any of this was coming from. He shouldn't be lying to his brother. He knew that. He also couldn't figure out how to tell him the truth.

And wasn't that just quite the pickle to find himself in.

"Damn. Well, I better get to work. See you on Friday." He walked out, his footsteps fading away, and then the creak and squeal of the barn door signaled his exit.

Stetson's shoulders dropped and he stared unseeingly at the tractor in front of him. He'd just screwed up, and he knew it. He shouldn't have lied to Declan. His parents had raised him better than that.

But to tell him the truth? That was unthinkable, too.

With an angry growl at himself and the world in general, Stetson gathered up the rags he'd dirtied and carried them to his truck he'd left parked outside the night before. He'd drive the rags back up to the house and make sure that the banker wasn't doing something she shouldn't be. Like, snooping around the house, searching through trash cans or something, hoping to find incriminating evidence. Of what, he wasn't quite sure, but dammit all, she had shifty eyes. He'd seen that this morning. He shouldn't hide out in the barn any longer; he had to go protect his family's legacy.

Ummm...work in the barn any longer. Because he sure as hell wasn't hiding.

He was a man. Men didn't hide from women.