still got more college ahead of you, but time moves. You’ll have big decisions to make in just a couple more years.”
“I made that decision, Mom. That hasn’t changed. It’s not going to.”
She leaned toward him. “Owning, operating, running a ranch, being a steward for its animals, depending on its crops, it’s a rewarding life, Dillon. And it’s a hard one, demanding, physical. We didn’t push you into college only for the education, though that’s important. We wanted you to see other things, do other things, experience other things. To step out from the world we have right here, see what else there is.”
“And to get you out of a household where two women run the show.”
Julia smiled at her mother. “Yeah, that, too. I know—we know—you love this place. But I couldn’t let it be the only place you really know. You’re meeting different people now, people who come from different places, have other views, other goals. It’s an opportunity for you to explore possibilities, potential, beyond right here.”
He got a sick feeling in his gut, took a slow sip of Coke to settle it. “Do you want something different? Are you getting around to telling me you want to sell?”
“No. No, God. I just don’t want my son, the best thing I ever did in this world, to limit himself because he didn’t just look.”
“I’m doing okay in school,” he said carefully. “Some of it’s a lot more interesting than I thought it would be. And that’s outside the ag and ranch management courses. I like hanging out and talking about politics and what’s screwed up in the world. Even if a lot of it’s bullshit, it’s interesting bullshit. So that’s hearing other views. I see what some of the others are studying, what they’re working toward, and I can admire it.
“This morning, I was just standing outside for a few minutes. Just looking, and feeling. I’m never going to be that happy being somewhere else, doing something else. I know what I want. I’ll stick, and I’ll get my degree because it’ll only help me be a good steward. That’s what I’m working toward because that’s what I want.”
Julia sat back. “Your dad loved this ranch, and he would’ve given it all he could. But it never had his full heart like it had mine. And like it has yours. So okay.”
When she rose, walked out of the room, Dillon frowned after her. “Is that it?”
“No.” Maggie studied him. “That was some smart talking, my boy. She knows, and so do I, that came from the heart. When you left for college, your ‘I want the ranch’ talk was more a knee-jerk thing, more a stubborn thing.”
“I want it more now than I wanted it then.”
“That’s right.” She poked a finger into his shoulder. “Because a couple women bullied you into college.” She smiled as Julia came back in. “Now here’s a reward for not being too much of an asshole about it.”
Sitting, Julia laid a roll of paper on the table. “When you graduate, you’ll be over twenty, and a man of that age shouldn’t live in the house with his mother and grandmother. He should have some privacy, some independence.”
“And he shouldn’t have to tell the girl he hopes to get in his bed he lives with his mom,” Maggie put in.
“So, what, you’re kicking me out?”
“In a manner of speaking. We all work the ranch, we all live on the ranch, but . . .” Julia unrolled the paper. “We talked options to death and back again, and this is what we think is the best.”
Dillon studied the sketches—obviously professionally done, as he could see the architect’s stamp on the corner. He recognized the stables, but the drawing showed an addition on the far side.
“It’s a nice little house,” she explained. “Far enough away from the main house for privacy, but close enough to, well, come home. You can see from the potential floor plan, it’s got two bedrooms, two baths, a living room, a kitchen, a laundry.”
“Bachelor pad,” Maggie said with a wink.
“Good windows, a little front porch. This is preliminary, so we can make changes.”
“It’s great. It’s . . . I never expected—You don’t have to—”
“We do. You need your own place, Dillon. I’m glad it’ll be here, I’m glad you want it to be, but you need your own. And when you start a family, when in the far, far distant future, you make me a grandmother, we’ll switch. Gram and