Whispers of the Dead "When Death Doesn't Die"

By Paul S. Sturm

Returning to the family ranch to attend his mother’s funeral, Cooper learns his deceased father once led a secret life by engaging in an intimate relationship with his doctor. Unknown to the family, the relationship exposed the family’s secret of ancient artifacts in hidden caves on the ranch—artifacts that originated half a world away. After learning of the artifacts, the greedy doctor decides to do anything—including murder—to gain possession of the ranch and keep the treasure of the artifacts for himself.
At the funeral, Cooper is reunited with his first love, India. As disappearances and a bloodbath of mutilations in the area begin occurring, Cooper is forced to reveal the family’s buried secret. He tells his dying great uncle, Travis—and India—that the family has been connected by an ancient covenant to a lost civilization living inside the caves on the ranch. For thousands of years, elite people of great wealth and stature from around the world have journeyed to an eternal spring within the caves to purchase everlasting life from the beast who guarded a hidden shrine. The elite would pay a king’s ransom to disappear into the immortality of a lost Utopia and never-ending life within the confines of the caves. A nightmare of starvation and bloodlust was the punishment for whoever dared to leave.

As an extended drought sweeps across the land, a beast claws to the surface from a hidden cave in search of food for a starving colony of creatures. Now, faced with starvation, the strongest creatures and guardians of the artifacts from the lost civilization are forced to hunt beyond the ranch’s boundaries in search of human flesh to feed the colony. Hoping to preserve the life of the colony until the rains come again to replenish the life-giving water supplying the eternal spring, the creatures relentlessly prowl the night.

Travis rallies from his deathbed and leads Cooper and India deep into the caves to confront the beasts, hoping to destroy the entrance and forever seal the horror inside. In a final unholy showdown with the creatures, the brave trio never foresee the surprising turn of events which ultimately change the outcome of it all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brighton Publishing LLC
• Release date: Aug 3, 2013
• ISBN: 9781936587162

Paul S. Sturm

Award-winning author Paul Sturm holds a doctorate from the University of Texas and is an ongoing student of archeology, forensics and human behavior. He is a member of the Writers’ League of Texas in Austin and the Elks Lodge in Cripple Creek, Colorado, where he escapes to write each summer, along with his wife, Brenda.His first novel, Whispers of the Dead: When Death Doesn’t Die is currently available in print and eBook formats online and wherever fine books are sold.

Book preview

Prologue

The beast narrowed its eyes at the approaching light, hissing, jerking at the trap, its horns glowing as the moon broke above the canyon through dark clouds dancing with lightning.

Sinking into the dry grass, the creature glared at the old man emerging through trees across the clearing, fighting his bulky jacket as the wind plummeted the temperature. Forbidden outside the caverns beneath the ranch, the demon jerked against the steel jaw of the trap as it backed from the approaching light.

Revealing its existence meant death—a preordained sentence of being eaten alive by the starving creatures below the ranch living in an eternal hell of hunger—a hell worsened by the unending drought. Yanking at its trapped foot, the creature bared teeth at the old man’s approach.

The memory of a demon that broke the covenant and harvested a human—of succulent flesh ripped from bone and warm blood lapped from the condemned demon’s carcass amid squeals of frenzied feeding—inflamed the creature’s imagination as it watched the old man through the grass. Blood-lust replaced fear with anticipation as the beast stretched the chain against the stake.

Glaring at the trap, the beast jerked at the remaining bone pinning it to the steel jaw—bloodless, gnawed clean. Only the bone stood between freedom and discovery—life and death.

Considering the lifeless foot hanging below the steel teeth, the creature attacked with saber-like fangs, clamping the bone securely between its jaws then snapped it in two, splintering it, ripping the remaining flesh free as it howled into the night.

Thunder exploded overhead as the demon pulled free of the trap. Grabbing its severed foot, the beast sprang toward the trees, the taste of its own blood teasing an ancient hunger, focusing the creature’s attention on the old man, awakening forgotten memories.

Savoring the taste, the demon watched as the trapper stumbled into the clearing, flooding the area with his flashlight. The old man kicked the empty trap as he spat onto the ground. He examined the dirt for tracks—so near, the beast could hear his heart beating—so close, the creature could taste the brine of his blood with its black, serpent-like tongue.

Having already violated the ancient covenant, the demon would harvest this easy kill, feast until it could eat no more, satiate the hunger it had awakened. It would experience a fullness only dreamed of.

The thought of steamy blood seeping from the trapper’s body riveted the creature’s focus as the old man fumbled with the chain. Lightning exploded overhead as the demon clawed into the bark of the tree preparing to pounce.

Chapter One

What do you mean, leaving? India demanded, stomping her foot on the ground. You haven’t even buried your mother yet.

Cooper looked up from the polished surface of the coffin. The exotic beauty stood hands on hips, glaring. Her hair glistened auburn in the wind; his showed the first strands of gray even though they were both thirty-nine. The sky continued to darken as wind whispered through the gully below the bluff.

He watched a leaf dance across his dusty boot, twirl through the hole beneath his mother’s coffin, then disappear into the darkness of the grave. Stealing a glance at India through the corner of his eye, he sighed as she continued to glare.

His first love in grade school, she remained unattainable because of their close friendship through the years. As he watched, he realized how much he still loved her, now as much as ever. Nothing had changed in the ten years since he had seen her. Why do you do that?

What? she asked, fighting to keep her hair in place.

He studied her warm brown eyes, now blazing. You know.

She caught her hair, clamping it to her neck, jerking her head toward the canyon as clouds continued to skim the rim. I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Hide your face like that.

She snapped her head around, glaring as her eyes widened. You’re the only person who would dare ask me that.

Cooper studied the black space between the earth and the coffin, watching dirt crumble from the side then glanced up. You’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen—that anyone has ever seen, yet…

Beautiful? Her eyes flashed. I own a mirror. I know what I look like. Don’t you think I’ve seen this face before?

Cooper glimpsed the tears before she turned. It’s a shame you don’t realize it.

You think I haven’t seen that look every time someone looks at me? Beautiful? Tell that to those who pretend they don’t notice this mark, this vile thing across my face—or worse yet, the ones that do look—pity in their eyes. I hate that even worse. She faced him, daring him to avert his eyes.

Sorry. I thought you’d gotten over that.

She pulled her hair next to her face. I’ve adjusted. It’s never—ever off my mind. She watched his eyes for any sign of judgment. Mother called it a devil’s mark.

Her features gradually softened as she studied his face. You’re the only one who’s never been afraid to look at me. The only one I’ve allowed to see me, probably because you really don’t see this mark.

You’re beautiful. I’m just sorry I couldn’t convince you of that before I left. I thought of you while I was gone. It wasn’t pity.

Her face gradually darkened then hardened. You’ve only been back a few days and you’re already talking about leaving? What about the ranch? And your uncle—what are you going to do about Travis? You know he can’t take care of himself—his memory is all but gone. He’s too proud to admit it but you know he can’t manage anymore. I can’t imagine what you’re thinking, she whispered hoarsely, glancing at the old man across the clearing, bravely struggling to remain standing. I hope you haven’t said anything to him about leaving. He thinks you’re here to take over the ranch. I can’t bear the thought of his disappointment.

She stomped her foot in the gravel. Look at the man. I mean really look at him. Does that look like someone who can take care of himself—or were you thinking I would always be here to do it?

Looking up from the surface of the coffin, Cooper glanced across the grassy clearing lined with cactus. He watched his great-uncle struggling in the wind. The funeral, typically Texan, began in the church, moved to the graveside and was now adjourning to the house for an afternoon of lame conversation and light refreshment.

He realized as he stared at the old man whose pride was the only thing keeping him on his feet that he had not critically looked at Travis since he returned. He watched the old man clutch his chest coughing, balancing on his cane.

His uncle had bluffed him into thinking he was capable but last night, he had heard coughing in the old part of the house. India was right. He loved his uncle too much to admit he was declining this rapidly.

Cooper turned to the coffin, watching shadows slide over the polished wood. Thunder, across the canyon, continually teased the possibility of rain. The light perfume of wet dirt laced the air, promising relief but the moisture they so desperately needed, refused to come. Glancing sideways, he studied the beautiful woman standing next to him, wanting to move closer, aching to brush his shoulders against hers, to touch her, to smell her hair—to hold her.

Cooper, are you listening? she demanded, stomping her foot. I don’t think you’ve heard a word I’ve said—have you?

Cooper looked up as the last of the mourners standing near his uncle turned toward their pickups. He quickly glanced away, but not before catching Travis’ knowing look as he spotted the two of them near the coffin. Travis was as sharp as ever. His grandfather’s only brother, Travis lived with Cooper’s mother and worked the ranch allowing Cooper the time he needed to finish school.

Working on an archeological dig near Mexico City, Cooper had done everything possible to ignore what was happening at the ranch. He knew from his mother’s letters that Travis was declining. He suddenly felt guilty as the man who had been like a father to him all these years, stood leaning on his cane, studying the two of them.

You can’t just waltz in here, bury your mother, then disappear as if nothing happened, India said, glancing in the old man’s direction.

Cooper turned to face the woman as she brushed renegade strands of hair into place, even though the north wind promised a fight. Darkened by the sun, she was foreign in her beauty, yet as native as the cactus she stood among. Seeing her like this made him realize how much he missed her—how much of a fool he had been to not see it before.

He turned, staring at their reflection on the surface of the coffin. You never married?

What? Have you heard a single word I’ve said, she exclaimed under her breath. You’re driving me crazy.

You’re not going to answer my question? Cooper asked, watching the last truck struggling up the incline toward the house on the bluff.

The almond-shaped eyes examined him, veiling her thoughts. Maybe I never found the right man. Maybe I don’t like men, she said, turning to watch Travis as he cautiously approached through the grass.

You know I could never make decisions. That’s why I’m still in Uvalde. You pick this of all times to ask me that? You’re killing me.

He saw the pain on her face before she turned away.

I’m sorry, he said.

What did you think? I stuck around waiting for you? Her face turned crimson.

Travis drew closer, using the cane he despised to pick his way through the rocks. Fragile as he was, he carried himself with dignity, his hawkish features leathered by years of exposure to the Texas sun, still ruggedly strong, still handsome.

What’s the hold up? Cooper asked, glancing toward his uncle, hoping the flush he felt was not visible.

Travis looked from Cooper to India.

Cooper realized the only reason Travis didn’t mention the color of their faces was his gentleness. Since India had taken it upon herself to care for Cooper’s mother the last few years, his uncle had grown to love her as part of the family. It was apparent to Cooper that India cared for Travis as well.

What on earth are those guys waiting for? Cooper asked glancing toward the two men smoking under the cedar tree. Let’s finish this and get back to the house—people are waiting.

They’re not going to bury your mother—not today, said Travis.

What?

Travis clamped his jaw. Are you in such a hurry to leave?

Cooper felt his face heat.

Lena didn’t die of a heart attack, said Travis. I didn’t mention it because I didn’t want to upset you, but you’ve got to know the truth sometime—we’ve all got to know and I’m not about to bury her until we find out.

What are you talking about?

India backed away from the coffin. Do you want me to leave the two of you alone? she asked, studying Travis’ face.

You’re as much a part of this family as Cooper, Travis said, considering Cooper. His rheumy eyes filled as he looked at the ground near his boots. You two are the only family I have left. I can’t believe Lena’s gone. It just hasn’t sunk in.

He looked toward Cooper. You have a right to know what I’m thinking. He took a deep breath, choking back a cough then sighed. But I don’t know where to start—certainly not here—now. Maybe later—tonight.

If you know something I should know about mother, spit it out.

It’s not that easy. Some things I know—others I suspect. I need to talk to Doc Michaels before I say anything.

I thought Dr. Whitehall―

That quack. Hell no—he wasn’t her doctor.

But he was here—at the funeral. I saw him. He shook my hand.

He didn’t shake mine. Travis turned and spit in the ground near his feet. He better not be at the house when we get up there. I hate him. That snake just wants to worm his way on your good side. He knows it’s too late for me. I hope he rots in hell.

He was father’s doctor. I assumed―

For pity’s sake, let’s not go into that. I can’t—not now.

The old man looked from India to Cooper. The only thing that creep wants is this ranch. He looked up at the house nestled on the side of the bluff, surrounded by cars parked under large oaks. And the only way he’ll get that is over my dead body. He knows that. Turning his face toward the wind blowing up from the canyon, he shuddered.

I hope this was an isolated event. He seemed to wilt as he turned back to Cooper. I should have told you the truth—sooner. Your worthless father should have told you what’s really happening here on the ranch—years ago. Now, it may be too late.

India pulled her hair next to her face as she stared at the coffin, avoiding Cooper’s eyes, moving next to the large oak to avoid the wind.

Travis gripped his cane as the icy air cut through them. As much as I hate the idea, I’ve asked Doc Michaels to do an autopsy on Lena—as a favor to me.

Cooper looked toward India, searching for a conspiracy.

She didn’t know, Travis snapped. I haven’t talked with anyone but Michaels.

You didn’t think it was necessary to tell me what you were planning?

There’s so much I’ve wanted to tell you—for years. It would have killed Lena to hear the truth. She knew most of it, but it’s not something we talked about. Your father—oh, God—Where do I begin about that man?

Travis began to cough, unable to control the spasm any longer, grabbing for his handkerchief. Raising a feeble hand, he waved India off as she stepped toward him. Cooper saw the blood before Travis stuffed the folded cloth into his pocket. His uncle staggered, on the verge of collapsing.

Regaining his balance, Travis motioned to the men under the tree. They took long drags off their cigarettes then dropped them to the ground, crushing them into the dirt beneath their boots. The shorter of the two slid in and began backing as the other guided him.

Travis pulled a folded paper from his jacket, considered it, and then handed it toward Cooper. Sign this.

I’m not signing anything until you tell me what’s going on, Cooper said between clenched teeth, glancing toward India, wondering if she really hated him for leaving.

Travis sighed, wiping drool from the corner of his mouth with the palm of his hand, his expression softening as he looked into Cooper’s eyes. I loved Lena. I don’t know what I’m going to do without her.

He glanced at India. Doc Michaels is waiting at the hospital in Uvalde. He agreed not to involve the sheriff or the staff—at least until he receives the results of the autopsy. Sign, he prompted again, holding out the folded paper. Everyone’s waiting. I don’t like to keep guests waiting.

The coffin slid effortlessly into the hearse over the stainless rollers. The taller of the attendants looked expectantly at Cooper. He said, I’m not signing anything until you tell me what’s going on.

Sign the paper, he said, gripping the cane. The one thing I know for sure is that Lena did not die of a weak heart. Give me a couple of days to prove it and I’ll tell you everything. I promise.

The old man’s knees buckled as he dissolved into a fit of coughing, but Cooper knew better than to step toward him. Wheezing, he looked up. Later—after everyone’s gone. I’ll tell you everything I know—everything I suspect. I promise.

India moved next to Travis, placing her arm around his shoulder.

Please, Travis gasped, holding the handkerchief over his mouth. You owe me that much.

Chapter Two

Liar. You said you brought me here to discuss Mother’s death. Cooper rose from the chair, glaring at the cardiologist. Mother’s not even in the ground yet and you have the gall to sit there and tell me I’ve lost the ranch? What are you trying to pull?

Who’s lying? I was at the funeral—I saw the coffin over the grave—remember? I only wanted—

Travis was right. How could I have been so stupid?

Your father—

Cooper leaned toward the surgeon, crashing his fist in the middle of the desk. You lied—just to get me here.

Dr. Eric Whitehall rose, moved toward the open safe, retrieved an envelope, then turned and stared at the man hovering over the desk. He tossed the envelope in his direction. Cooper watched as it slid to a stop in front of him.

I’m a respected physician, not accustomed to being called a liar. However, I’ll overlook it. I realize you just lost your mother. I’m sorry for your loss.

Liar, Cooper growled, staring at the envelope. I should never have come.

Eric moved to the desk, glancing at the envelope. Everything’s there.

You said on the phone, you knew something about mother’s death. I didn’t come here to discuss the ranch—or its disposition—or my father. That is none of your business.

There are things about your father you should know, Eric said, leaning over the desk shoving the envelope toward him. John was a special friend of mine.

I’m out of here, Cooper said, backing toward the door.

The surgeon stood erect, narrowing his eyes. You’d better read what’s in that envelope.

Cooper snarled. Travis warned me not to go near you but I wouldn’t listen. He said you were a snake.

Travis never told you anything about your father—or the ranch—did he? I’m surprised. He’s never been short of words with me.

Cooper felt his hands sweating.

Your father and I—

My father was a patient of yours? Cooper asked quickly, looking at the physician through the corner of his eye.

Among other things.

Cooper’s eyes slowly rose from the desk to examine the well-groomed bear of a man standing before him in a tailored suit, watching curiously, his perfume nauseating.

Eric strained his face into a sympathetic expression. If you don’t read that document, you’ll get what you deserve. I’m trying to save you that embarrassment.

Liar, Cooper whispered under his breath.

That is the last time you’ll call me that. I don’t know who you think you are. I’m well-esteemed in this community.

Well-liked? Cooper asked, raising an eyebrow.

The physician’s face slowly turned from red to purple as he retrieved the envelope, then leaned over the desk and slapped it across Cooper’s chest with a loud snap. You think you’re so smart. You tell me what this says.

Cooper’s eyes flashed but he remained silent, clenching his fists. He turned and glanced toward the door.

You’re not going anywhere until you’ve read this. Moving from the desk toward the door, Whitehall made a show of locking it then turned and faced Cooper as he dropped the key into his pocket. You might as well sit in that chair and get comfortable.

Breathing heavy, Cooper glanced toward the door. I’m sure the sheriff will be interested when I file kidnapping charges.

Eric raised an eyebrow. I’m doing this for your own good.

Cooper dropped into the chair, slumping, his strength suddenly depleted.

That’s better, said the doctor, relaxing. Maybe there’s one Kennedy left with a brain.

Cooper’s eyes flared.

Your father and I—

Cooper jerked his face toward him. Nothing—not one word about my father or I’m out of here—even if I have to kick that door down.

You’re going to have to face the fact that your father and I were more than just—

I swear I’ll leave. He looked at the envelope in his lap, placing one hand over the other to disguise the tremor. The only reason I’m here is to find out what you know about mother’s death.

Be that as it may, Whitehall said, moving toward the rear of the expensively carved desk, you owe it to yourself—

Why now?

I beg your pardon?

Why are you dragging this out now?

The document explains everything.

Cooper ripped into the envelope, scanned the contents, and then began to slowly read. What does this mean—for an undisclosed amount? What undisclosed amount?

Details? Whitehall asked, moving to the chair. I thought you weren’t ready for details.

My father wouldn’t have done this—not to his own family. The ranch has been in our family for generations—no Kennedy would have sold any part of the ranch.

You’ve been gone for a long time. You don’t—

I know one thing—no one sold anything to you—no matter what this says—for any amount. I see this remains unrecorded.

There’s a reason.

I’m sure there is. It wouldn’t hold up in court—would it?

I understand you didn’t know your father—

Who told you that?

John—years ago. He died before you were old enough to understand what he had to tell you.

And what would that be?

Some family secret. He never told me.

Then how do you know there was a secret.

Over the years, he confided other things. Some I guessed. Some I discovered for myself.

About the ranch?

Managing his ranch wasn’t one of John’s talents. He’d rather—how should I phrase this—satisfy his own short term needs than plan for the future.

Say what you mean, Cooper said, clenching his jaw, trying not to look into the eyes monitoring his every reaction.

You want to know the truth? John drank himself stupid every night. He was a clown—a drunk. He cared for no one but himself, least of all Lena or you. He ended up betraying everyone in the end—even me. He had a secret life no one knew about. It finally killed him. If he hadn’t died when he did, your precious Kennedy name wouldn’t have been worth a plugged nickel. Is that truth enough for you?

Cooper slumped into the chair, staring at the surgeon who seemed fascinated with his own manicured nails.

You have no idea of what’s on that ranch, do you? the salon-tanned man asked, looking up. Your father never told you anything, did he? Read the codicil at the bottom of that page.

I don’t get it, Cooper said, glancing up, allowing the document to slowly drift to his lap.

The document can’t be executed until the death of your mother—and the death of Travis. Travis is standing in the way of my recording this.

You can’t wait for Travis to die—can you?

Your uncle’s death is only a matter of time. I thought it only fair you know my intentions.

Cooper rose from the chair, backing toward the door. You hand me this pack of lies right after my mother’s death—and call that fair?

Whitehall leaned back in the chair studying Cooper.

You pronounced her dead?

I was on call that night at the hospital.

The only thing I want from you are the details you promised—how she died—why she died. Cooper said, moving toward the window overlooking the plaza. He paused at the shutters then turned to face the man in the starched shirt studying him from head to foot. His eyes seemed to search every detail of Cooper’s appearance. I’ll tell you right now, there’s no way you’re getting your hands on the ranch, he said turning back to the window. Not if I can do anything about it.

Whitehall placed his hands behind his head, watching, his face unreadable. I’m just trying to help.

By stealing the ranch the minute my mother is dead? Cooper moved from the window toward the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. Unlock this door—or I’ll kick it open.

Cooper faced the surgeon squarely. He felt rumpled, dirty as he watched the man continuing to examine him. What could be so important to you that you’re willing to place yourself in this position?

The man behind the desk held out his arms out expansively, breaking into a smile. I just wanted to talk to you—nothing more—make sure you understand what is facing you. I feel I owe John that much.

Cooper slumped.

Eric jumped from the back of the desk, pulling the chair toward Cooper. Sit down. Hear me out. You won’t be sorry, I promise.

Cooper dropped into the chair as the surgeon squeezed his shoulder, his hand lingering on Cooper’s neck then moved to the back of the walnut desk.

Let’s start over, Whitehall said, smiling.

I need to talk to Travis, whispered Cooper.

And you shall. However, I wanted to speak with you before you spoke with your uncle.

Cooper raised an eyebrow. Why?

Travis has been declining. I’m afraid a great deal—especially lately. I fear his mental—

You’re Travis’ doctor?

No, but—

Then how could you know his condition?

His physician, Dr. Michaels, is often my anesthesiologist when I do surgery. I know for a fact Travis is on borrowed time. He’s said as much.

And you can’t wait to get your hands on the ranch, can you?

You’re going to have to trust—

I wouldn’t trust you to sew up my dog.

Eric hardened his expression, gazing at the gold coin he pulled from the desk drawer. To be honest, I’m trying to figure out how much you know. A slow smile spread across the surgeon’s face as he looked up from the ancient coin he toyed with. He studied Cooper’s face, fingering the coin. And I realize, you don’t know a thing, do you?

This was a mistake, Cooper said between clenched teeth, staring at his boots. Suddenly, he jumped from the chair as something hit against the inside closet door. He glared at the physician who now sat scowling behind the desk. What’s in the closet?

Eric shook his head, sighing. Hank, Whitehall called, staring at Cooper.

Cooper watched as an arm, covered in prison tattoos slid from the door and the whiskered man with a black patch over one eye leaned out, sheepishly looking toward the cardiologist. Sorry—my leg went to sleep.

What are you trying to pull? Cooper demanded.

Hank and I were visiting when you knocked. I asked Hank to step into the closet.

Cooper narrowed his eyes. And you expect me to trust you?

Hank works for me, said Eric.

I remember you, said Cooper. You’re Henry—

Hank. I go by Hank—now.

Didn’t you turn your wife into hamburger, along with some guy?

Hank ran the liquor store on Highway 90, years ago, said Eric.

I got to know your dad, said the one-eyed man, cocking his head to one side, studying Cooper. Got to know a lot of the locals here in Uvalde, he said, turning toward the physician.

You went to the pen for a long time. I remember now.

I paid my debt.

You think?

Hank does odd jobs for me now, Eric said.

As what, your scrub nurse?

Hank makes sure everything runs smoothly.

So now you’re threatening me?

I’m giving you the opportunity—

You wouldn’t give me anything. You brought me here to steal the ranch. That didn’t work, plan B must be intimidation. Well, I’ve got news for you. Neither is going to work. The ranch belongs to the Kennedy family. It always has—always will.

You seem to be running out of Kennedy family, Eric said, continuing to finger the ancient coin.

Cooper glared, remaining silent.

The surgeon shoved the document across the desk. I already own a portion of the ranch. It’s just a matter of time until I take possession.

I’m out of here.

If you leave now, you’ll be the one who suffers.

My father may have made his portion vulnerable to you, but that’s just half, the part he inherited from my grandfather, Travis’ brother. I know for a fact, Travis hasn’t relinquished his half. He hates you—hates everything you stand for.

But you will inherit that section on Travis’ death—soon.

It’ll be a cold day in—

I think I’ve been extremely tolerant.

Save your breath. You’re not getting anything from me.

The surgeon sat back in his chair, preoccupied with the coin in his hand. Did you come back from Mexico with a lot of money?

Cooper ignored him.

You better have a bundle. Your family owes a substantial amount in back taxes, as well as several impressive loans your father was able to secure before his credit ran out. Travis barely made the interest payments over the years.

However, if you have several hundred thousand to pay the interest on those notes, there should be no problem. If you don’t . . . Whitehall rose from the chair, walked to the safe, turned to consider Cooper then reached inside. He pulled two large stacks money out, tossing them to the center of the desk. Enough to hold the State and the County off a little longer, just until you have a chance to figure something out.

Cooper looked toward the tattooed man. Is this how he bought you?

Eric retrieved another document from the safe, tossing it to the desk. Letter of intent.

You are either stupid or deaf—and I don’t think you’re deaf.

Eric smiled, glancing toward the one-eyed man. I take it you didn’t bring a roll of money back with you. That’s unfortunate—for you.

Cooper felt his hand shaking. He gripped the side of his leg.

Your father exhausted your family’s credit before he died. There’s nothing left—nowhere else to turn. That’s why Travis and your mother struggled all these years.

"I’ll sell some of the ranch