Two Guardians for Little May

"Whatcha
got there?" Layton Marshall looked up from his large, wooden desk covered
with stacks of papers, his eyes tired after hours of poring over his deceased
father's accounts.

"Something
that might make life a whole lot easier for us." A piece of paper appeared
from a pocket of the light weight leather jacket. "Take a look see."

Layton
frowned as he scanned the document in his hand. "Is this a deed? Where did
you find it?"

"It's
a deed all right. It was tucked away an old trunk up in the attic. I was
cleaning out Pop's belongings and happened upon it. Apparently, he had some
property that we didn't know about. It's just a bit over an hour northeast of
here." Caine Marshall pointed on the hand-drawn map.

"This
is really strange. Nothing is mentioned in his will about this."

"It
says it's transferable to the eldest child upon the death of the holder. That's
you, dude. This might be the thing to get us out of this piece of shit house. I
hate this place," Caine said gruffly. "It's never been home."

"This
was Mother's dream house, Caine. The only reason we came back is because she
was so sick, and Pop needed our help. But, I agree. It's an eyesore, and way
too formal for my likes."

"Do
you think we can unload this place and move up to this property?" Caine
asked eagerly. "I can start a new practice and you can open a law office
right there in Bridgeport. I've been there one time, and it was a pretty little
town with a decent commute in both directions."

"Slow
down and give me a second to look at this," Layton said, scanning the
document. "There is a clause in here about squatters. It says that if we
find any unclaimed women or new families, the property owners are to ensure
their safety and provide a means of a decent living. I wonder what that means.
Are we expected to adopt lost women and children, and put them on our list of
dependents?"

"This
is a mystery to me." His brother sat in their grandmother's old rocking
chair and crossed his long legs. "Obviously, it's a little outdated. How
old is that thing anyway?"

"Outdated
is an understatement. The signatures are dated January 4, 1927. Look here. It's
a bank account number. Apparently, there is a trust fund attached to the
property to either maintain or build the residence, and a safety deposit box
number."

"Let's
take a break and check it out. You need to get some fresh air and stretch your
legs a bit. Don't give me the dirty look, big brother. I will pull rank,"
Caine insisted.

"Rank?"
Layton looked amused. "The only rank you have over me is the need to
shower. You've been out tending the horses, and I can see the stench rising
from you."

"I'm
talking about your health. I am a physician."

"What
you are is a pain in the ass. But," Layton stood and flexed his back,
"you are correct. Go take a shower while I rustle together something to
eat. We can check this place out first thing in the morning."

"What
about squatters?"

"We'll
worry about that when we get there. I'll also swing by the bank and see what's
in that box." Layton rubbed his neck, and then stacked the receipt papers
into a neat pile and placed them into his briefcase. He considered his
brother's suggestion. It would be good to sell the house and get out from under
the debt his father had incurred while caring for their invalid mother. She had
passed only two months ago, after five years of fighting metastasized lung
cancer, and had left their father with the responsibility of paying an overly
large mortgage while unsuccessfully nurturing a broken heart. He jotted a note
to himself to review the mortgage stipulations. It was not like his father to
have left things so unfinished, and the mortgage company was not being
cooperative in returning his calls or responding to his emails.

***

Layton
had barely finished his first cup of coffee the next morning when the sound of
honking indicated his younger brother's impatience. He chuckled, remembering
Caine as a spontaneous child, and then a reckless teenager teeming with
mischief. Medical school had somewhat matured him, redirecting his energies to
focus on caring for women and newborns. Caine's patients loved the cheerful
young doctor, and many of the single ladies actively sought to catch his
interest. None had succeeded. He liked his freedom too much, and was not yet
ready to be stuck 'in a family' way.

At three
years apart, Layton and Caine were as opposite as two brothers could be.
Layton's love—his passion—was the law; protecting the innocent and
exposing the transgressions of the guilty. Life was black and white to his
eyes, and he never allowed any shades of gray to interfere with his decisions.
Events over the last ten years had taken much of Layton's ability to smile and
play. Despite his handsome, but rough 'Texan' features, and deep, mesmerizing
drawl, Layton's stoic disposition repelled just as many woman from his presence
as those who were attracted to Caine's charm.

"Hurry
up, Grandpa!" Caine shouted, pressing the horn.

"Will
you relax? The place isn't going anywhere. Don't get your hopes up,"
Layton warned, sliding into the front seat of the big, black pickup. "We
have no idea how long it's been since anyone set foot on this property. I don't
even know if Pop knew about it."

"If
he did, he sure kept it a secret," Caine said, his booted foot pressing on
the gas and kicking up a cloud of dust that had settled on the cobblestoned
driveway. "Wouldn't it be great to be away from this place? There is
nothing but bad memories here and, personally, it's time to put it all to rest."

"That
is one thing we agree upon. I hated this house the minute it was bought,"
Layton agreed, tapping his fingers on the arm rest. "I told them that they
would go into debt if they didn't watch out, but Pop wanted to give Mother her
wish to live in a fancy mini mansion. I need to check his mortgage agreement
but I can't get hold of a copy. There should be a death clause in it that
covers the remainder of the payments. Pop was always insistent about shit like
that."

"You're
a worrier, Bro. You need to learn to relax some," Caine said, his own
Texas drawl rolling like melted butter over a biscuit. "You're gonna drive
yourself into an early grave before you turn forty. When was the last time you
took a horse out? You're gonna lose your chops."

"Do
you ever regret returning to Dallas after Mom got sick? You gave up your dream
job of home delivery." Layton asked quietly.

"You
make it sound like I was a grocery clerk," Caine laughed. "Clean up
on aisle five! Seriously, I loved doing home births. But Dallas gave me the
chance to work in a high acuity labor and delivery ward where I received
training and experience that I would not have gotten elsewhere. It made me a
better doctor. Plus, you and Pop needed help with Mama's care. Do you regret
leaving Baltimore?"

"No,"
Layton answered quietly. "After the divorce, I lost my feel for the place.
Coming home and being around family was good for me."

"Are
you sure you want to stay here for the long haul?" Caine asked with
concern. "You get restless when there's no action. Hell, you threaten to
dynamite the river if no fish start to bite."

"Very
funny. I'm thirty-seven years old. I've spent my adult life going to school,
working my ass off, and married to a woman who I loved more than life but did
not love me in return. I'd be fibbing if I said I wasn't ready for a real
change. Honestly, I would love to get back to the way things used to be. You
know, you and me. That was the happiest time in my life."

"Maybe
we can. Just need to find the right girl."

"I
doubt that is going to happen in a hole in the wall place like this,"
Layton said, staring blankly out the window.

"You
never know. Sometimes things fall right in our laps and we are too distracted
to notice until they scream at you."

"You
have birthing babies on the mind, little brother," Layton forced a
chuckle.

"It's
my life. What can I say?"

Little
more was shared as they drove down the highway towards Bridgeport, Texas. The
men parked in front of the Chamber of Commerce to get exact directions to the
property, which was located another forty minutes east. Layton then retrieved
the contents of the safety deposit box and rejoined his brother in the truck.

"Not
the most social town, is it?" Layton commented, as they continued their
journey.

"I
love you, Layton, but your dirty looks would frighten away Mother Teresa. You
really need to lighten up and stop being so serious. What's in the
envelope?"

"A
hand-written note." He squinted as he tried to read his father's scratchy
handwriting. "It says, my dear boys..."

"Uh
oh," Caine interrupted. "We must be in trouble. What did you do this
time?"

"Hush
up. My dear boys," Layton began again, "There is a very special gift
waiting for the two of you. I beg you to protect it, cherish it and love it. It
would mean the world to me. Pop."

"Did
he leave us a puppy?"

"Sounds
like it. But you know Pop," Layton sighed, "he was always one for
mystery and intrigue. He used to say he wanted to be a secret detective instead
of a cow rancher."

"Who
wouldn't? Well, if it was important enough for him to say something, then we
need to respect that."