The man was facing away from her, but she was sure it was Paul. Same build. Same clothes. Same hair color. The gas can was set to the side, and he had a rake in his hand, dragging it through some loose straw, piling it into a small mound.
The two pregnant goats were bleating, and she reacted, no plan in mind other than to halt his progress. Stepping into the doorway, her hands still holding onto Rufus’ leash, she shouted, “What the hell are you doing in my barn?”
The man whirled around, and Lizzie stared in wide-eyed, mouth-opened shock. “Dad?”
Robbie Weston’s face scrunched into a grimace, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he said, “Shit, Lizzie.”
It took a second for his presence to sink in, then she jerked as understanding hit her. “You’re the one who’s been doing all these things? Oh, my God, you’re the one who poisoned my goats? You’re trying to destroy my farm?”
He turned to face her fully, and the scent of alcohol drifted toward her. He scrubbed his hand over his face before throwing his arm out to the side. “Yours? This should be mine. All of this. All of this should be mine.”
Her gaze jerked around, trying to follow the wild motions of his arms as she tried to follow the path of his words. Understanding slowly dawned on her, filling her with cold reality. “The farm. You thought Papa Beau was going to leave the farm to you?”
“I was next in line. I was his son.”
“You didn’t even come to his funeral! You haven’t been around for years! What on earth made you think he was going to leave it to you?” Her words came out in a rush, her stomach clenching and her heart pounding at the audacity of the man standing in front of her. “You nearly broke his heart. You not only left him, Grandma, and this farm... you walked away from your wife.” Slapping her hand against her chest, she added, “You walked away from your daughter! What made you think he was going to leave anything to you?”
He grimaced again, his voice now wheedling. “Oh, hell, Lizzie. You know Dad was a farmer right down to his bones. I never was. I never understood working so hard for so little.”
As the reality of the man standing in front of her continued to sink in, it dawned on Lizzie that he was only talking about the farm. He was not denying having abandoned her or her mom. Swallowing past the lump of rejection that once more settled in her throat, her eyes stayed pinned on him. “If you never wanted the farm, then why are you here now? What are you after?”
He startled, his body jerking as though her question shocked him. “Girl, you’re sitting on money. Not this damn barn or these fuckin’ animals. Hell, not even that house.” He waved toward the ground with his forefinger, shouting, “This! This land is worth something. It should have come to me.”
“So you could just sell it?” Her rage rose in full force until it crackled in the air all about her.
“Yes, I would’ve sold it. Finally, I would’ve had the money that was my birthright all along.”
“Jesus, Dad, don’t you see? The money is not your birthright. It was the land. If you had appreciated it, worked it, helped Papa Beau, helped Grandma, the land would be yours right now. But only because you understood what it means to have a piece of earth that’s been handed down through the years, gifted to you but only to take care of. Not squander it.”
Robbie leaned back, his breath leaving in a long, heavy sigh. “My God, you sound just like Dad. So self-righteous. So unable to realize that not everyone wants to kill themselves digging in the dirt.”
A tear rolled down Lizzie’s cheek and she dashed it away quickly. She started to speak, then cleared her throat and barely whispered, “That’s the nicest thing you ever said to me. That I’m just like Papa Beau.”
The two of them stood inside the barn built by his grandfather, and a building she knew he had played in as a boy just as she had as a young girl. All the history of their family was spread out all around them, and yet, he was a stranger, not understanding his surroundings.
Rufus nudged her leg and whined, bringing her focus back. Glancing down at the gasoline can setting at her father’s feet, she asked, “What now? What are you going to do now, dad?”
His jaw tightened as his lips pursed. “Sign this place over to me, Lizzie. And when I get paid, I’ll give you a share.”
“Who’s your buyer? Paul Dugan? Or is it Luca Giordano? Who’s got you doing the dirty work?”
His brows lowered in confusion, and he said, “I don’t know anyone named Paul. And Luca may be a big man on the Eastern Shore, but he’s like Dad... thinks like him, only bigger. He fuckin’ gave up too easy on this place. Now, that daughter of his, she’s got a taste for moving up. She wants her place in her own father’s kingdom and doesn’t mind paying well to get there.”
Her breath left her lungs in a rush as she processed his latest claim. “It doesn’t matter who’s paying you. I’m not signing anything over to you, Dad. You walked away from us. You walked away from Weston Farms. There is not one speck of dirt underneath our feet that belongs to you.”
He took a step forward, and Rufus growled, now standing and moving in front of Lizzie.
Sneering, Robbie said, “Just like you to have a three-legged dog for protection.” He bent down and snagged the gasoline can from the ground. “Lizzie, you know I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m going to do whatever I have to do to make you sign this farm over to me. You don’t agree, I’ll start with the barn.”
She watched in horror as he tilted the can, pouring some of the gasoline onto the straw. “No!” she screamed, dropping Rufus’ leash as she dashed forward.
Rufus darted in front of her, his teeth sinking into Robbie’s leg. Screaming, Robbie dropped the gasoline can, slinging his arms out to knock the dog away but coming in contact with Lizzie’s jaw. Her head snapped back and she crumpled to the ground. The cigarette fell out of his mouth, immediately igniting the gasoline.
Pain exploded throughout her head. Barely able to push herself up, she turned around to see Rufus still battling with her dad as flames began licking through the straw. The bleating of goats hit her ears and she forced her body to her knees, gasping for breath. Coming to a stand, she staggered past the fire toward the gate to let the pregnant goats free.
“No, Lizzie,” her dad yelled as he reached to grab her arm, trying to pull her back away from the fire.
The sound of sirens filled the air, and she jerked away from her father’s grasp. “We’ve got to get them out!”
Not knowing if he was working with her or against her, suddenly, her father pushed her to the side and grabbed the gate, jerking it open. Rufus, as though knowing what needed to be done, ran inside the pen and nipped at the goat’s heels until they ran past the flaming straw, through the barn to safety.
Head dizzy, she dropped to her knees, unable to stand. Her father cried out her name again as he started to lift her but staggered back as another man forced his way forward through the flames, scooping Lizzie into his arms.
Thick, black smoke billowed all around, but when Lizzie opened her eyes against the pain in her head, Scott’s ravaged face was in her sight. Unable to see what else was going on around her, she could hear the shouts of others.