San Joaquin Valley, California
Fletcher Garrett is dead. We did not receive word of his passing from Kinsey’s parents but instead in a correspondence from my grandfather, Fletcher’s brother. After reading the letter, it appears Fletcher died doing the things he loved best - smoking a cigar, drinking a whiskey, firing one of his house servants for a misplaced butter knife. The sudden heart attack was shocking, yet I’m certain many found it a relief.
Fletcher’s burial had taken place two weeks prior to the arrival of my grandfather’s letter. I’m uncertain if Kinsey’s mother, Eleanor, attended her father’s funeral. The relationship between my little cousin and her parents is strained which is better than non-existent, I guess. I insist Kinsey write to her parents twice a month and it is a struggle each and every time to get her to do so.
“I’m riding into town. Where’s your parent’s letter?”
“I haven’t finished it.”
“Do it now. I’ll wait.”
“I’m busy.”
“Kinsey, you’re sitting there daydreaming.”
“I’m not daydreaming. I’m reflecting. Isn’t that what you do, Scott? You sit and think and reflect. So, that’s what I’m doing. I’m reflecting.”
Murdoch offered to talk to Kinsey regarding her grandfather but I felt it would be best if she received the news from me. Ultimately, Kinsey is my responsibility. I have willingly assumed the roles of not only a cousin but that of a big brother, occasional father figure, protector, and disciplinarian. The long list is a challenge but never a burden.
Kinsey’s response to the news of Fletcher’s death surprised me. She cried. She sat and mourned over a man she only knew as hard and unforgiving. I’m doubtful Eleanor Furlong had same reaction when learning of her father. I comforted my little cousin the best I could, struggling to find the right words to say. Afterwards, thoughts turned to someday receiving a similar correspondence regarding Harlan and what my response might be.
A few days later another letter arrived, not from Boston, but from Philadelphia and addressed to Kinsey. Jonathon Masters, Esquire, Attorney at Law was the sender.
I calculated a full minute had passed as Kinsey held the envelope in her hand, frowning.
“Are you using your fortune telling psychic powers to decipher what is inside the envelope?”
“The letter is from a lawyer.”
“It is.”
“Mr. Masters lives in Philadelphia.”
“He does.
Silence.
“Kinsey, you read the return address. I’m not that impressed with your psychic powers.”
Convinced it was bad news, I was designated as the reader of the letter. Maneuvering through the terms and phrases that only lawyers seem to use, it became clear that this was a request for Kinsey to travel to Philadelphia at her earliest convenience.
“Why?”
“Mr. Masters is asking to meet with you.”
“Why?”
“Honey, I’m not sure. Give me time to talk to Murdoch.”
Showing my father the summons to Philadelphia, we both agreed it spoke of Fletcher Garrett’s last will and testament, however, it was vague on Kinsey’s involvement. Even though we had only returned home two months ago, my father felt it necessary I take time away from the ranch to accompany Kinsey. I mentioned she would insist she doesn’t need a babysitter.
Arms crossed and leaning in the doorway of his cousin’s room, Scott watched Kinsey throw her clothes several yards into a traveling case.
“I don’t need a babysitter. This is utterly ridiculous, foolish and insane.”
“Please tell me when you’re going to inform Murdoch he is foolishly insane. I would hate to miss that.”
Kinsey, selecting a shoe to prove a point, hurled it, missing her cousin’s left ear by inches.
“Okay.” Grabbing his assailant by the arm, Scott delivered one well placed swat and sat her down on the bed. “Enough. You’re done. You let me know when you’re ready to talk. I’ll wait.”
Watching the stubbornness fade from his cousin’s demeanor, he knew the wait would not be long.
“This is taking you away from your role in supporting the ranch. It’s not fair to all involved.”
“We will travel straight through to Philadelphia and only be gone for a couple of weeks.”
“The trip will be grueling.”
“Grueling? Remind me to have you accompany us on the next cattle drive.”
We leave in the morning.
~ S.
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