Marry Me, Marine. Rogenna Brewer

He’d likewise never married.

       “My great-great-great-grandfather had this house built for his mistress,” Maddie said. “Rumor has it she ran it as a brothel. The first Maddie Miner was their illegitimate daughter, who turned it into a more respectable boarding house.”

       Leaning over her plate, Angela listened to Maddie carry on about the Miners’ colorful history.

       “The Henrys, in contrast, were the salt of the earth,” Hatch said with a touch of familial sarcasm. “Founding fathers. Land owners. Six generations of cattlemen.”

       “Don’t let him fool you.” Maddie used her fork for emphasis. “That side of the family had quite a few outlaws and bandits.”

       They bantered over which family had the more infamous characters. As Angela saw it, Hatch won either way, being a member of both. But he seemed to identify more with the Henrys.

       Maybe because of his namesake.

       If there was one member he considered the salt of the earth, clearly, it was his grandfather.

       “This house was passed to me around the time my brother, Matt, went to work for Clayton Henry,” Maddie said. “Isabella Henry was a rare beauty and Matthew could be real a charmer. Those two were on a collision course from the moment they met.”

       The man between them tensed.

       “It’s a shame everything fell apart after.” Maddie adjusted the napkin in her lap and patted her nephew’s arm. “Lots of good times before the bad. And I see the best of both of them in Clay.”

       “You still planning on putting Two Forks up for sale?” the judge asked.

       “I have more work to do around the place, but yes,” Hatch replied.

       “What’s your asking price?”

       “One point three.”

       “In this economy? Why wouldn’t you hold on to the property? You’re not going to get that, and it’s worth twice as much. Bennett’s place is listed dirt cheap and has been on the market three years.”

       “Bennett doesn’t have two forks of the river running through it, two pine groves, the peach orchard. And I could go on about the outbuildings.”

       “All of which are in disrepair,” the judge argued. “He’s got just as much acreage in meadowland.”

       “I’m sure Clay’s thought of all that,” Maddie said, coming to her nephew’s defense. “You can’t bully him into keeping it, Booker.”

       “I’m not trying to bully anyone. It’s just a shame the land was ever parceled out. But, Clay—” the judge returned his attention to Hatch “—you could take what’s left and make something of it.”

       “Sometimes a person just has to let go,” Maddie said.

       “Then answer me this.” The judge used his fork to emphasize his point. “If he’s so eager to let go, why hasn’t he?”

       “There’s still work to be done,” Hatch said.

       Angela didn’t know what to make of their heated debate. Most of what was said went over her head. But it wasn’t as if the two men were angry with each other. Just opinionated.

       “Call a cleaning company,” the judge continued. “Have the house cleared out in a couple of days, instead of spending all your damn time holed up at the ranch, chasing people off the property. Which is going to land you in my courtroom,” he warned.

       “Booker, you make him sound like his mother,” Maddie said with a nervous laugh. “He didn’t make that mess.”

       “No, the judge is right,” Hatch said, springing to the man’s defense. “It is my mess. It always was.”

       Angela didn’t interpret this as a confession of a secret life of slovenliness. So why was he accepting responsibility?

       “If you don’t want to live in your mother’s house, the foundation was laid for a new house a long time ago,” the judge said. “Build on that.”

       The conversation seemed to have taken an uncomfortable turn for Hatch with the mention of his mother and the house. He focused on his plate. She bumped his knee underneath the table, causing him to look at her in question.

       Accident? Or on purpose?

       She bumped him again as he held her gaze. Although they’d had their awkward moments today, Angela saw this as her chance to rescue him for a change.

       “These Swedish meatballs are delicious,” she said, taking another bite.

       Maddie went into detail about the recipe, as Angela had been hoping she would, starting with stale bread and sour milk.

       Angela stopped chewing when the woman got to venison.

       Deer meat? Just like the deer carcass they’d left swinging from a tree while they’d dropped off his head to be mounted and sold.

       “Are you planning on bow hunting this season?” The judge trod on neutral ground. “What are you doing about a kill plot?”

       “Kill plot?” Angela looked at Hatch and swallowed. Then took a big gulp of water to wash down the meatball stuck in her throat.