Chapter 2 - My Signature, His Pen
Sheriff Talley asked everyone to stay where they were.
Dad laughed.
It came out too sharp.
“This is ridiculous.”
“Could be,” Talley said. “Still staying put.”
The realtor handed him the document. Her name, according to the badge clipped to her coat, was Marcy Bell.
“I was told Ms. Mercer was overseas,” she said. “That her father had authority to act for her.”
My fingers went cold around the phone.
Leah heard it in my silence.
“What does the authorization say?”
“I can’t see it.”
“Then wait.”
Waiting has never been my gift.
In the Army, waiting usually meant something had broken, somebody was late, or somebody senior had decided time no longer applied to the rest of us.
But I stayed inside.
Sheriff Talley read the paper twice.
Then he looked at my father.
“This says power of attorney.”
Dad nodded.
“There. Exactly.”
My pulse kicked.
I did have an old power of attorney.
From eight years ago.
Before my second deployment.
It allowed Dad to handle one checking account, register my truck, and deal with insurance if I got stuck overseas.
It expired after twelve months.
And it specifically excluded the sale, transfer, mortgage, or encumbrance of real property.
Leah went silent when I told her.
Then she said, “Send me the camera screenshot. Now.”
I did.
Thirty seconds later she said, “That document is not your POA.”
“You can tell from a blurry screen?”
“I can tell because the one I have in your file is four pages. That thing is two.”
My throat tightened.
Leah and I had met through base legal years earlier, when I was trying to clean up a mess involving my mother’s estate before deployment. We became friends later. She had warned me about broad powers of attorney.
“Never hand family a loaded pen,” she’d said.
Apparently someone had built their own.
Outside, Dad stepped toward the sheriff.
“You’re letting her waste everyone’s time. We have buyers arriving tomorrow.”
Marcy snapped her head toward him.
“Tomorrow?”
Dad looked annoyed.
“Yes.”
“You told me the buyer was your son.”
Cole’s face changed.
Just for a second.
Not guilt.
Panic.
Sheriff Talley noticed too.
“So who’s buying it?”
Dad rubbed his jaw.
“It’s a family transaction.”
Marcy stared at him.
“You told me Cole had financing.”
“He does.”
Cole finally spoke.
“Dad.”
One word.
Too late.
A white pickup came around the bend beyond the county road.
Not one I recognized.
It stopped behind the sheriff’s cruiser.
A man got out wearing a dark suit under a ranch coat.
Sheriff Talley looked at him.
“Can I help you?”
The man held up a folder.
“I’m here for the Mercer property inspection.”
Marcy’s face went white.
Dad muttered, “You’re early.”
The man blinked.
“I’m the appraiser for Bitterroot Capital.”
I didn’t know the name.
Leah did.
She said one word into my ear.
“Hard-money lender.”
I felt the floor shift under me.
Dad wasn’t trying to sell my ranch to Cole.
He was trying to borrow against it.
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