Kenzie accepted the papers and sat there, staring at the sealed envelope that bore the logo from the legal offices the Malone ranch used for just about everything. “What...” She glanced between the envelope and Ty several times. Swamped with equal parts anxiety and confusion, her mind shut down and her mouth ran off without a map. “You’re suing me?”
“What?” Ty shouted, eyes wide. “No! Lord, no. Just...open the damn envelope, Mackenzie. Then I’ll explain.”
Her hands shook so badly she dropped the envelope. Twice. But she finally got the flap open and pulled out three sheets of paper. The first was a short, handwritten statement.
I, Tyson Hollister Covington, hereby acknowledge the debt owed and the amount established by one Mackenzie Anne Malone in the amount of $112,742.88. I hereby accept responsibility for that debt with the intent to repay it, in full, via a lump-sum settlement. Said settlement shall satisfy all monies and related interest owed.
Ty’s signature had been notarized by one Elijah Covington, Esquire.
Her father’s hand had added the following:
In recognition of the loan made by the Malone family to one Tyson Covington, the settlement agreement is accepted as proposed.
Below her father’s signature, the notary public from the ranch’s law firm had affixed his seal.
That had been the third male voice coming from the office.
Fingers numb, she let that sheet drift to the floor. “I didn’t lend you the money, Ty. I gave it to you.”
“I asked you for it, and we need to be clear before we can move forward. Keep reading.”
Kenzie moved on to the next page. It took a second to realize what she was looking at and another to process it. Gasping, she shot to her feet. “No. No, no, no.”
He took her by the arms and settled her back on the straw bale. “Yes, Kenzie. Read it.”
The registration and ownership for Doc Bar’s Dippy Zippy Gizmo had been transferred to her name. She was listed as the horse’s sole owner.
She knew her eyes were wild when she met his solemn gaze. “No, Tyson. I can’t take Gizmo. I won’t. I never wanted this.”
“Which is exactly why I’m doing it.” He ran a finger along her jaw. “Keep reading.”
Hands shaking wildly, her voice vibrated with emotion. “No.”
“Please. For me.”
“You have no right to ask me to do anything for you. Not anymore.”
“I hope to change your mind.” He bumped her knee with his. “Now read.”
She fought to focus on the third sheet, a letter composed in a surprisingly legible hand—one she recognized from the first page.
Mackenzie,
Sometimes people screw up. Other times they royally screw up. And rarely someone will screw up so bad that the magnitude of their mistake actually registers on the Richter scale. I’ve been told that the United States Geological Survey recorded and reported a seismic disturbance day before yesterday. The disturbance was recorded at roughly 10:44 a.m. and was located at 35.9439° N, 104.1931° W. (In case you’re curious, that happens to be just outside Roy, New Mexico.) The USGS has said that, based on the available information, their experts believe the event occurred when a total asshole shed every ounce of common sense he allegedly possessed and made a snap judgment. It was the snap judgment and the resulting fallout that caused the disturbance. Apparently, it was the largest event caused by a single individual in recorded history.
You see, I’m the one who set off the Richter scale. I’m the jackass.
I tried to rationalize the event. Apparently the English language hasn’t come up with words that convey that particular level of moronic behavior just yet. I’m on it, though, and will let you know when they’re available.
Next, I looked for an excuse in a bottle of bourbon. It wasn’t there.
I tried to argue with a very wise man who drove over eight hours in crappy weather to come to his daughter’s defense. I argued with that man, that father, and told him he’d neglected his daughter by treating her like a poor replacement for the son he’d lost. I have the bruise on my shoulder from the one punch he threw to prove that this man, this father, loves his daughter for all her own strengths and weaknesses. Nothing more. Nothing less. That collective experience revealed just how far a good man will go to ensure his child is protected.
I looked in the mirror then and realized I’m not a good man. But I want to be.
More important, good or bad, right or wrong, I want—need to be your man.
Movement made her look up in time to see Ty dig something out of his pocket and drop to one knee.