Abby’s Cowboy

An Excerpt from Abby’s Cowboy

 

Layton, Felder, Bach & Moore

Attorneys-at-Law

58 East 42nd Street, Suite 1800

New York, New York 10016

Joshua Callahan

Route 5, Box 3

Buzzard Branch, Texas 78699

Dear Mr. Callahan,

As the executor of the estate of the late Mr. Harold Hopewell, whose Last Will and Testament was entered into probate in the Surrogate’s Court, New York County, State of New York, I write to inform you of certain assets bequeathed to you pursuant to Mr. Hopewell’s Last Will and Testament.

Arrangements have been made with an associated firm in Austin, Texas, to handle the physical transfer of assets. Please contact Ranger Davies, Esquire, of the law firm Davies & Moore, to make arrangements for the delivery of your bequests. Any queries may be directed to Mr. Davies. Contact information is attached.

Kind regards,

Frederick Bach, Esquire

* * *

Layton, Felder, Bach & Moore

Attorneys-at-Law

58 East 42nd Street, Suite 1800

New York, New York 10016

Abby Palmer

201 B State Street

Austin, TX 78701

Dear Ms. Palmer,

As the executor of the estate of the late Mr. Harold Hopewell, whose Last Will and Testament was entered into probate in the Surrogate’s Court, New York County, State of New York, I write to inform you of certain assets bequeathed to you pursuant to Mr. Hopewell’s Last Will and Testament, to wit:

Retainer for your interior design services, such services to be used to decorate, remodel and/or refurbish the main dwelling of the Callahan Ranch in Buzzard Branch, Texas, owned by Mr. Joshua Callahan. The budget for this service is estimated at $250,000.00. An account has been set up in advance for purchase orders; details are attached. Any budget overrides must receive my prior approval, although Mr. Hopewell indicated you were to receive a free and generous hand when it comes to ultimate decisions.

Enclosed herewith, please find a $25,000.00 advance check. A final $25,000.00 payment is to be made upon completion of the agreed-upon services.

Should you require more information or have any questions, please do not hesitate to contact me.

Kind regards,

Frederick Bach, Esquire

* * *

Josh Callahan blinked.

He blinked again.

Seated in a wide leather chair at the law office of Ranger Davies, in fact facing the man across a wide glass desk, Josh Callahan assumed he was having some out of body experience  —  or hallucination.

It was just after 9:30, and the powerful air conditioning in the attorney’s office brought gooseflesh to Josh’s forearms. He shook his head, feeling stupefied.

Nope, he was still seated in the same office. He was wide awake. Perhaps he hadn’t imagined what Ranger had just told him.

Josh cleared his throat. “Can you repeat that?”

Ranger grinned. He looked nothing like an attorney. He was around the same age as Josh, and was dressed in a polo shirt and slacks rather than the business suit and tie Josh had expected.

Ranger said, “Thought that dollar amount might get you. Quite a large sum from a man you barely knew, huh?”

“Let me get this clear. I’m being given custody of the two Corgi dogs I rescued a couple of years ago. Yes?”

“Fact.”

“And a truckload of cash?”

“In the interests of being exact, upon acceptance of your bequests.” Ranger repeated the sum that Josh had found incredible. No stranger went around giving away that kind of money. There had to be a catch.

While Josh was very good at running the Callahan Ranch, he’d never dreamed of becoming a millionaire. Ever. And now, all because of a gesture he’d have made for anyone, the kind of thing anyone would do, just watching out for others — now everything would change. 

“The dogs.” The dogs were how he’d met Mr. Harold Hopewell. Of course Josh hadn’t realized that the owner of the two yippiest Corgis he’d ever met was THE billionaire. Josh had found the dogs wandering around the highway outside his ranch, at risk of being run over by a speeding truck — or worse. Coyote fodder.

Like anyone would have done, he’d scrambled up and down the highway to catch them. They were frisky little guys, and it had taken a while before he’d put them safely in the front of the truck beside him. After bringing them home, he’d phoned the number on their tags, and within hours had handed the pooches over to their owner, Hopewell. 

Hopewell had been interested in the ranch, and Josh had given him the deluxe tour. Evidently being polite had now landed him in lavender.

Josh could handle taking care of the pooches. What were two extra dogs on the ranch? Not only did he raise great cattle, but he was also one of the most sought-after breeders of Australian Cattle Dogs in the state. Cows he could do. Dogs he could do. Happy to, in fact.

“Don’t forget the interior designer,” added Ranger.

Interior designer, no can do. “I don’t have to feed and house her, too, do I?”

“Nope. Just let her work. Once she begins the design project, you receive half the cash, and the other half upon completion.”

Josh sucked in a deep breath. That kind of money, just for taking in a couple of strays and making a phone call. Sheesh. With such a return on his time investment, instead of ranching maybe he should have been hunting strays in his spare time.

The cash couldn’t have come at a better time. Thanks to the economy, the ranch hadn’t been paying as well as it once had. He’d even been entertaining offers from a housing developer for a piece of the property.

A small slice. But still.

Splitting up the ranch wasn’t something he’d ever wanted to do, but he had to do something. He needed updated ranching equipment, a new barn, a larger truck and, of course, all the usual maintenance and costs of a large ranch. Harold Hopewell was a life and ranch saver.

“Where do I sign?”

After they had completed the mountain of paperwork, Ranger picked up his desk phone. “Bring in the pups, Ali.”

A couple of minutes later, the sound of happy yips came from the hallway, increasing in volume as they neared, to almost jet-engine proportions. Ali, Ranger’s executive assistant, stepped into the room with the two Corgis on leads — if you could call all that lace and ribbons leads.

Silence ensued.

Then Angelique lifted her nose and sniffed. She seemed to zone in on Josh’s scent. She barked one yip and dashed toward him, tail wagging in greeting.

But fluffy flapping dog tails aren’t totally suited to an office, especially when the office sports low side tables with expensive bronze statues, crystal coasters and other doodads.

Angelique’s tail knocked over everything on the low side table beside Josh and sent the bronze statue sailing.

Ali, the incredibly-good-at-her-job-executive-assistant, proved her worth with a swan dive worthy of the Olympics, and successfully captured the bronze cowboy statue before it was pulverized by hitting the floor.

Nothing could save the coasters and doodads.

While Ali settled the statue on a bookshelf, out of dog-tail-danger-zone, Ranger quickly stooped to pick up the broken bits and pieces from the floor. 

“Hey there, you remember me?” Josh called to the dogs, to keep them from causing more chaos. He rubbed the sweet spot behind Angelique’s ears and she seemed to smile. Pasqual pushed Angelique aside in order to place his squat legs on Josh’s knee. “You need a pat, too?”

After the office was semi-cleaned up, Ali held out the dog leads to Josh. She did not smile. “Good luck.”

The way she said it sounded like she meant good riddance.

It wasn’t the dogs’ fault that they were dogs. Bringing them into an office without pet-proofing it first was like dumping a two-year-old into a room filled with electronics.

Josh grinned and took their leashes. Pasqual yipped again, but one “Hush” from Josh silenced the dog.

Ali and Ranger’s eyes widened. “Impressive,” Ranger said. “No wonder Hopewell bequeathed them to you.”

Josh shot him a grin, tugged the leashes and headed out. By the time he and the animals reached the street, he wanted to celebrate, unable to believe his great luck.

When he’d told his younger brothers about the meeting with the attorney this morning, he’d thought he might be inheriting something trifling — like a memento or painting.

His middle brother, Mitchell, was going be over the moon because Josh wouldn’t have to sell off property after all. Mitchell was the more serious of the three brothers, and Josh had felt like a failure when he’d confessed he planned to sell the parcel. Now he looked forward to one of his brother’s rare smiles.

When their great-grandfather had acquired the land to create the Callahan Ranch, it was quite a distance outside Austin. By the time Josh’s father had inherited, the ranch was still fairly remote, but Austin had begun creeping their way. Now, with the incredible growth in the Austin area, bedroom communities had sprung up in areas that had been just brush and scrub a few years earlier.

The last thing he and his brothers wanted was to sell to a housing developer, but that’s who was buying. It was either keep struggling along or sell.

Now neither was necessary. The grin that had been on his face in the law office threatened to overflow his face. The cash influx would make all the difference to his family.

Lifting his eyes to the dazzling blue Texas sky, he figured the early May day most definitely matched his mood. Although it promised to be exceptionally warm that afternoon, it was still early enough to be cool.

Between the weather and the inheritance, it was decidedly a great day.

Josh pulled the dogs’ leads toward where he’d parked his truck on the street, while in his other hand he held the bundle of papers Davies had shoved at Josh as he departed the office.

Suddenly, Angelique froze beside him with her nose in the air like a Pointer dog, one foot lifted, tail straight out behind, her whole body straining to point toward her mysterious target. Pasqual snapped into the same pose seconds later. 

“C’mon, you two.” Josh tugged their leads toward his truck at the curb, only steps away.

Both Corgis thrust with all of their might in the opposite direction. The dogs might look small, but that was deceptive. They were solid muscle. Josh clamped down on both paperwork and dog leashes.

But with one huge united tug, Angelique and Pasqual pulled away from him, dragging their satin-y leashes out of his grasp.

“Drat.” Josh dashed to his truck and slid the files through the window that he’d left open an inch, then spun to chase the wayward pups.

 

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