His brother, Reed, wouldn’t be remotely happy to see him, but outrageous times called for outrageous measures. Reed would have to deal with it.

Caleb briefly toyed with the idea of bursting in unannounced. He owned the place, after all, and Reed had been dodging his calls for over a week. To be fair, Caleb hadn’t tried to contact his fraternal twin brother in ten years. Then again, in all that time, Reed hadn’t tried to contact Caleb, either.

But now, their father was dead. Caleb wouldn’t have set foot on the Terrell ranch in any other circumstance. He’d probably have been shot if he’d tried. Which made the contents of the will that much more baffling.

He gave three short, sharp knocks.

In the moments of silence that followed, he glanced around the ranch yard, refreshing his memory and bracing himself for the conversation to come.

The main barn had been recently painted a dark green. The square horse corrals were still meticulously maintained, their straight rails gleaming white in the afternoon sunshine. He knew every angle was precisely ninety degrees, and the posts were exactly six feet apart, rail centers at twenty-four-inch intervals.

Beyond the yard, black angus cattle dotted the summer green, hillside meadows between groves of aspen and pine. And the snowy peaks of the Rockies rose up to the misty sky. Caleb blinked against the blinding sun, refocusing closer in.

Half a dozen pickup trucks were backed up in formation in front of the equipment sheds. A freshly washed combine, cultivator and hay truck sat on the far side of the barn, and a few dozen chickens were pecking the ground around the tires. In one of the pens, a black horse whinnied and bucked, tossing its glossy mane as it ran the length of the enclosure before stopping short at the fence, nostrils flaring in annoyance.