The Bequest

Once we've determined nothing can be done for the dog this moment, the kids' enthusiasm about the new place returns. Ethan jogs through the door. "First one in the house!" Gabe shoots past him like a cockroach fleeing the light. "I call the best room. The best one!"

339

"You can't do that," Whitney says. "It's not specific enough. You have to see the room, and be standing inside of it, and then say 'I call this room."

In the time we spent on the dog, the sun set and now it's pitch black. It feels like an eternity of fumbling around with the flashlights on our phones before Izzy finds a light switch, but once it's on, the children all disappear. Except, instead of hiding, they're searching. The rest of them may be too old to insist as obnoxiously as Gabe, but picking the best room matters to all of them.

They can't call the master, because they'll lose it, but they need to suss out which of the remaining rooms is the best faster than everyone else, or they'll be stuck. "There are six bedrooms, and only five of us, so don't stress. You'll all have a place."

Luckily the fridge works fine, although judging from the fusty smell, I did not buy nearly enough baking soda. It's not the only thing that needs to be cleaned, either. The once-cream linoleum counters probably weren't ever works of art, but now it's hard to tell what's stained with dirt that can be removed, and what's age-stained. I find rags in a drawer near the sink, and the water is on, luckily. I put away the groceries in the mostly bare cabinets, wipe down the counters, and locate the very vintage plates and bowls and utensils. They're dusty, but once I rinse them off, serviceable.

"Guys, let's bring our things inside and then eat something." I preheat the oven. One thing everyone will always eat is frozen pizza. I've never had the brand they sold at the hardware store, but how different can frozen pizza really be? "I want the room with the big bay window," Izzy says.

"You know what a bay window is?" I'm shocked.

"When I stayed at Elizabeth's last month, her mom took us to see some model homes."

"Are they moving?"

Izzy shrugs. "I don't think so, but her mom loves to look at shiny, new houses."

"She'd hate this one." I laugh.

"I love it," Gabe says. "Look what I found!" He hoists a dead mouse up in the air. "It's like the coolest stuffed animal I've ever seen."

"Drop that right now," I say.

"Oh no!" Whitney shrieks. "It's a mouse! It's dead!"

Ethan, out of nowhere, slaps it with his hand and sends it flying across the room. My heart feels like it's going to pound its way out of my chest, and I keep shivering involuntarily, but at least it's not alive. Although, where there are dead mice...

I make everyone wash their hands, and then we clear the other rooms one by one to ensure no other dead rodents are hiding, waiting to be played with. My appetite's gone, but everyone else seems perfectly happy to dig into the pizza, which is finally ready. This oven probably needs to be replaced. It's green inside, which was my first clue, but it takes almost twice as long as the box said it should to cook the pizza, which means it's probably not heating properly. At least everyone eats it.

And in spite of the depressed dog and the dead mouse, they're all in good spirits. After dinner, we spend twenty minutes and finally succeed in luring the dog inside.

"What if he's not housebroken?" Izzy asks.

"I suppose we'll lure him out the same way." He's still lying on the ground, more like a rug than a dog.

"Good thing you got those groceries, Mom," Ethan says.

He doesn't often praise me for doing simple things. It feels nice.

"Thanks for dinner," Whitney says. "I liked the pizza. It tasted like crackers with pizza sauce and cheese."

I pick up a piece of cold pizza and take a bite. She's not wrong. The crust does remind me of saltine crackers. "I'm glad you liked it."

Once the kids have all unpacked their things into blessedly empty dressers, they brush their teeth and head for bed. Not even Ethan argues with me the beauty of the time change, I suppose. We're all tired. I'm locking the front door when I see headlights. You'd think the dog would be barking, but he just lies there. "You're kind of useless," I mutter.

If you're loving the book, nel5s.com is where the adventure continues. Join us for the complete experience all for free. The next chapter is eagerly waiting for you!

I peer out the window at the approaching car, watching as it parks in front of the small house. The lights shut off, leaving everything dark, but I'm positive that it's two men who climb out. My heart's racing, but I can't go to sleep knowing there are two intruders right outside.

Who are they, why are they here, and how do I get them to leave?

I consider waking Ethan, because at least he looks like an adult male, but I can't do it. He's only seventeen-still a baby. If there's danger, I won't send my minor son out to face it. I fumble around on the counter in the dark until I find my cell phone. It only has one bar, and I'm not even sure who I'd call out here. Does 911 work when you're in the middle of nowhere? What if I lose reception entirely? Every cell in my body screams for me to run and hide, but the mother inside of me keeps me moving.

I force myself to unlock the front door and debate about turning on the porch light. In the end, I decide it's better to see what I'm dealing with than to try and sneak up on them. After all, what would I do if I did surprise them? Try and punch them?

They'd probably laugh.

When the light flips on, both men swear. They look...shocked to see me. If I had to guess, I'd say they're both in their mid twenties, or possibly early thirties.

I make my voice as loud and as self-assured as I can muster. "I know this place has been vacant, but it's not any more. I'm going to have to ask you to leave." "Leave?" one of them asks.

The taller of the two says, "But we live here."

"Not anymore, you don't," I say. "I'm sorry if this is inconvenient, but we're Jedediah's relatives and we're going to be staying here for a while."

"You don't want us to help with the ranch anymore?" the tall one asks.

Uh. "You're ranch hands?" Is that what they're called? What if that's an offensive term? "You work here?"

"I'm Kevin," the taller one says.

If you're loving the book, nel5s.com is where the adventure continues. Join us for the complete experience-all for free. The next chapter is eagerly waiting for you!

"And I'm Kevin's better-looking brother, Jeff." The shorter one lifts his hand up to his forehead in some kind of cowboy salute.

"Oh, I'm so sorry,” I say. "I didn't realize.” Mr. Swift said we couldn't hire someone to run it for us, but he failed to mention there was already (hopefully) competent help on the premises. "I'll rest much easier knowing you're here, actually. Please, carry on. I'm sorry I came out here and fussed." "We'll likely be up before sunrise in the morning to rotate the water and move the cows, but as soon as you're awake, come find us," Kevin says. "We'll be done by lunch time, and happy to show you around a bit."

What a relief. "Do you know if the dog we found is Jed's?"

"Roscoe?" Jeff asks. "Yeah, he's not doing too well."

He could say that again. "He barely seems to move."

"We keep putting food out, but he hardly eats it." He spits. Gross.

"He did eat some turkey from our hands," I say.

"Maybe he'll perk up, now that you're here," Kevin says. "That'd be great."

Oh good. Another thing to worry about. "Let's hope." I wave. "Sorry for being a little hostile. Have a great night."

"See you tomorrow."

As I turn out the porch light and lock up again, I feel pretty foolish. I should've known someone would be here. It's not like three hundred and fifty cows would be fine all by themselves on a ranch for weeks. All in all, this isn't my dream setup, but at least we have a big old house to ourselves. Five people sharing two bathrooms will be tight, but we'll survive. We might even look back on it and find it's just what we needed. I keep seeing little Roscoe in my mind and wondering if that's how we've looked to the rest of the world.

Maybe it's time for all of us to sit up and start living again.