The sheriff shook his head. “Blanche, I know this is not the news you wanted to hear, but I have no choice. I suggest you pack a bag and get going.”
But that was the problem. Where would she go? Her mother and father were dead, and she had no brothers or sisters. Her nearest relative was in Texas, and they didn’t want her. She had no place to go and now she was losing her birthright.
With Papa’s death and the loss of the ranch, she had nothing worth living for.
“Get out,” she yelled. “I’ve still got three days. Get off my property, now.”
She fired the gun into the air and the chickens squawked and ran from the yard.
The sheriff’s face turned red. “I should arrest you. But I’m going to leave, but we’ll be back on the first. Be gone.”
This was it. This time the ranch would no longer be hers.
As soon as they rode away, the tears flowed down her cheeks. Sinking onto the steps, she laid her rifle down and began to cry. Great big hulking sobs.
What was she going to do?
Looking out at the pastures, she saw the cattle and the horses, and her heart cringed. She had three days. Half a week to sell everything she could. And then she didn’t know what she would do.
Going into the house, she packed a suitcase of everything she wanted to keep. Glancing around the home, she knew there was so much she couldn’t take with her. Grandma Rose’s rocking chair. Her mother’s spindle. Her father’s…