The Bequest

When I was in grade school, I learned that a human can live three weeks without food, three days without water, and three minutes without air. I've since learned that's not precisely true, but it's also not ridiculously far off. Internet access is oxygen to me at least with regards to working remotely.

I've been without it for two days now.

And I am not okay.

It took me four tries on my cell phone to get one SMS message through to Robert.

-NO WIFI IN THE LAND TIME FORGOT. I'M SCREWED.

I have no idea how long it took him to message me back, but I don't receive his reply for almost half an hour.

-YOU'LL FIGURE SOMETHING OUT. YOU ALWAYS DO. TRY NOT TO STRESS. NO HARD AND FAST DEADLINES THIS WEEK.

He's trying to calm me down-what else can he really do? But I know as well as he does that the final round of depositions happens over the next few weeks. Thanks to the fallout from the dumb pandemic, they allow us to do them remotely in most instances, but I need to have the documents reviewed and indexed, and I need the questions prepped and ready.

The internet company may say they won't come until July or August, but every company is made up of people, and people can make exceptions. Maybe I can convince them to come sooner. But until then, I need to figure out some sort of workaround.

A tap at my door distracts me. I drop my laptop on the pink polka dot and gold floral quilt that covers the old, creaky twin bed in my summer bedroom. My eyes don't appreciate the decor, and my old back is still complaining that I gave up the king bed that had a mattress made this century. "Yeah?"

The door swings open a foot or so. "Hey, Mom." Ethan's standing in the doorway, wearing the unsure look on his face that means he needs to ask for help.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Why do you always ask me that?"

I suppress my laugh. "What do you need?"

"I was hoping we could go over this list and make a plan." He inhales sharply. "You're really good at plans."

My heart swells. Apparently I really needed to hear that he liked something about me, even if he no longer trusts my advice on his education or my guidance for his future. "Alright."

"I bet the girls would want to be involved, and maybe Aunt Mandy-"

No way. I'm doing my level best to keep things cordial, but if she sticks around more than a week, I'm going to lose it. "She won't be here very long." I stand up and take the list from him. It's a printout of the list of tasks, plus a more thorough list of daily tasks he's added, presumably with Jeff's and Kevin's input. I'm kind of impressed with his initiative. "We shouldn't bother her with this stuff."

"I know Uncle Paul died a few years before Dad, but she still looks really sad to me," Ethan says.

Oh, no, now I'm crying. I'm such a bad person-worrying only about myself and making my life easier. At least my kids are decent most of the time, and insightful, and kind. Maybe I'll get bonus points in heaven for doing a moderately good job at making them better than I am myself.

"Mom." Ethan's arms wrap around me a little stiffly, but I press my face against his broad chest. Sometimes, even with his height, it's easy to forget how young he is. His frame is still spare he lacks the bulk his dad had-but he's also gotten so big.

"It's okay to be sad," I say. "And I think you're right. I think Aunt Mandy is probably still pretty sad. Maybe this week will be good for her."

"But keep Maren away from me," Ethan says. "Because I swear I'm about an inch away from punching that brat."

I push backward, wiping my eyes. "Ethan Elijah Brooks."

He rolls his eyes. "Oh, please, Mom. I won't actually do it." He mutters under his breath. "Probably."

"If you ever hit a girl, your father would "

"Are you sure she's a girl?" His lopsided grin widens. "I think she might be a cyborg who's in a committed relationship with her phone."

I slug him on the arm. "She's a teenager growing up at a private school in New York City."

He sighs. "She never had a chance, I guess."

Not at being a normal person who can relate with the ordinary world. "She might be less prickly if you tried making friends. You could talk to her about something that matters to her." "Like what?"

"I don't know-social media?" None of my kids have accounts-I barely get on myself-but he could ask her about hers.

"Talk to her about... oh wait, hang on." Ethan turns his head like he's listening to something outside, when I know very well that there's no one calling for him. "Whoops, I think that's Kevin. I better go see what he needs. There's probably a tractor that needs repairs." He's out the door before I can even laugh. He may have a good heart, but he's not Dr. Phil.

Apparently escaping my attempts to force bonding with cousins was more important than making a plan.

I pull the will out of my briefcase and grab a legal pad. There's a calendar of major events and phases of ranch life, but I focus on the things listed for June and July. The main tasks, on the will list and per the information Ethan added, are driving the cows out to the Forestry land for the summer, prepping the meadows for hay, irrigating each of the hay meadows, and harvesting them in July and September for the alfalfa, and starting in August for the grass. Apparently that task goes into September, right until the cows return.

The most nerve-wracking task we must certify as having done is driving all the cattle onto the Forest Service land. Mr. Swift mentioned something about coordinating with Ranger Dutton. I type a quick email to Mr. Swift on outlook on my phone asking for details on how to reach out to him, but the message won't send until I find a place with better reception. The battery on my phone is already down to half-constantly scanning for service isn't helping.

How did Uncle Jed manage here without internet? Why didn't Jeff and Kevin insist he bring in broadband? I was mostly kidding about this being the land time forgot, but my joke might have been painfully accurate. My current plan involves pinning Jeff and Kevin down so I can figure out exactly what we need to do to prepare for driving the cattle to the Forestry Land, and what we need to do in order to prep for hay and irrigate.

But the top of the list is finding a place with internet I can steal until we can get it installed for ourselves.

When I finally leave my room, Maren's poking haphazardly at her phone, which is attached to a charger.

No other kids are around, but I know Ethan went outside. When I duck out there, I see Emery, Whitney, and Izzy, with Gabe trotting along behind them, on their way to the barn. "Be careful around the horses," I say. "Mom, we know," Izzy says.

She's had two years of English horseback lessons once a week, and she thinks she's going to be the next rodeo queen.

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! "Does she like horses?"

I startle at the voice, but when I look for the speaker, I don't see anyone nearby.

Kevin stands up, and I realize he was behind a metal water trough that's turned on its side. "They all seem pretty excited about the animals, and our horses are pretty good, but they're still twelve hundred pound animals." "She's taken lessons for a few years."

"Which one?"

"The blonde with the bob," I say. "Whitney, the one with the longer, darker hair, has had a year or so of lessons. She knows the basics of horse care, but she's not as confident in the saddle. Gabe comes with us to the lessons, so he knows the rules, like not walking behind them or making loud noises that could spook them."

"What about that other little girl?"

"I have no idea. Emery's my niece, but we don't see them much."

"Someone should make sure she's clear on safety rules at least." He harrumphs. "Never mind. Looks like Jeff's on it."

Sure enough, he is. The kids are standing in front of him in a half-circle, like they're at school, heads bobbing as he talks. "That's a relief. But speaking of horses and whatnot, what would the cattle drive to the forest involve? Apparently we have to participate."

"I can't imagine anyone expects all them to come." He bobs his head at Whitney and the other kids.

"That's a relief, but I imagine Ethan will insist, and Izzy and I should be capable, maybe. What exactly does it involve?"

"We all get on the horses and we use them to push the cows up into the mountains." He shrugs. "Most of them have been before and they know what to do. They're eager to get up there even now they're testing the fences." "Why not take them now?"

"Forestry Service rules," he says. "Gotta wait until they give the all clear."

"I imagine Whitney will insist on going if Izzy does. They're both pretty excited about their cattle ranch adventure."

His smile is kind. "The best person to decide if they're safe is Steve Archer."

"The horse trainer?"

Kevin scrunches his nose. "Everybody calls him the Horse Doc."

"That's cute," I say.

"I'll give you his number. We drive the cows in a little over two weeks, though. So I'd call him quick. If you all need some help, you wanna have time for it."

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! "Thanks." I type in the numbers he rattles off.

"But Steve don't usually answer his phone," Kevin says.

"What?"

"He's usually on a horse, plus, the reception's not great."

Don't I know it. "What do you suggest I do if he doesn't answer?"

"I'd just drive out there. It's real close."

"Great. Speaking of small town life-you don't happen to know anyone at the internet company, do you?"

He chuckles. "Sorry, that's over in Green River."

Drat. "Do you know anyone around here who's on the friendly side who might be willing to let me do some work at their office or home until we get our broadband working?" "Huh." He sucks his teeth, presumably while he's thinking. "Well, only person I know who definitely got it last time was Steve."

"The Horse Doc? That Steve Archer?"

"Yep. I imagine the vet's got it, and maybe the Ellingsons. They always get the newfangled stuff."

The internet's apparently a 'newfangled' thing. You can't make this stuff up. "Great, well, I'll start with Steve." Two birds and all. "Directions?"

"Turn out of the drive and drive straight. It's the white farmhouse a few miles down the road with the big barns behind it."

"To the left?"

"Nah, turn right, toward town. The house above us is Amanda Saddler's place, and past that is Wilde Ranch."

Which does not help me at all.

"Steve's probably four miles from here, toward town." He points as if I can't even figure out which direction the town is located.

"I appreciate it."

"Jeff and I are taking your boy out to help us work on the tractor. We got a few meadows left to clear sticks from and drag. I figure that's something he can prolly do." "Right," I say. "Great idea."