“Martha is not the only other Stanton!”

“Well, no, there’s you,” Earl said witheringly, “I’d as soon ask a fourteen-year-old to run a bank as send you to turn the Gazette around!”

“You don’t think I can do it?”

“It’s work,” Earl pointed out.

“You don’t think it’s work to raise cattle? You don’t think it’s work to sort and ship and doctor a herd?”

“Your father worked hard,” Earl allowed.

Big of him! Gabe gritted his teeth. “I worked with him!”

“You lent a hand when you passed by.”

“Who do you think did it since Dad died last year?”

“You?” Earl almost seemed to chuckle. “I thought that’s why your mother hired Frank as foreman. Or maybe Martha did it or that little orphan girl, Claire. Your mother says she lives in jeans and does the work of three men. Who needs you?”

Gabe’s teeth came together with a snap. “Think again.”

“You don’t say you’re actually good for a job of work, surely?” Earl regarded him with tolerant amusement.

“I’m good for anything he’s good for,” Gabe snapped, indicating Randall.

“Ho, ho, ho!” Earl scoffed.

“Don’t ho-ho me, old man-”

“And don’t call me old man-”

“Look-” Randall ventured.

As one, the other two turned on him. “YOU KEEP OUT OF IT!”

“Whatever needs to be done, I’ll do it,” Gabe said defiantly. “And you-” to Randall “-give me the details of this paper, and go take a vacation. Or ‘a holiday,’ I suppose you’d call it.”

“What I’d call it is madness.” Randall shook his head fiercely. “You’ll bankrupt us.”

Gabe slammed his glass down on the table. “Sez who? You think I can’t run things? I’ll show you. I’m off to Devon in the morning!”

There was silence.

Randall and Earl looked at each other. Then at Gabe.