Free Solomon's Decision by Judith B. Glad Page A

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    "How come you're so set on me keeping the meadow with the rest of the ranch?"
Jethro Zenger leaned back in his easy chair and fiddled with his pipe. He hadn't lit it for
nigh on to twenty years, but it made a good gadget to hide behind when you were tryin' to
think what to say.
    "Well, Jethro, it seems to me that anybody wanting the ranch would want all of it."
Charlie Bittenbusch smiled, showing every single one of his teeth.
    Jethro wondered if the teeth were false. They were just too perfect. He never had
trusted a man with straight, white teeth like Charlie's. "Anybody wantin' my ranch is gonna
take what I'm willin' to sell." He wished Charlie would make his pitch and get it over
with.
    "Don't be too sure of that. I know some fellows who want it all." With slimy pride,
Charlie leaned back in his chair and beamed some more. "They particularly want the
meadow."
    "Ranchers?" Jethro knew the chances of Charlie knowing any honest-to-God
ranchers was pretty slim.
    "Well, as a matter of fact, they aren't." He fidgeted. "You know that Sunriver
place over in Oregon?"
    "Yeah?" Jethro laid the pipe aside. He didn't need the distraction.
    "Well, these fellows are looking to do something like that. A planned community,
sort of, for people who want a summer home with all the amenities."
    "What kind of amenities?"
    "Well, a village with gift shops and clothing stores, maybe a bakery and one of
them fancy espresso bars. You know. Kinda like McCall, only smaller and upscale."
    "Upscale! Shoot fire, Charlie, what kinda word's that?"
    "It means fancy, Jethro. Expensive. My cli...uh, my friends want to appeal to
people with more than average money to spend." He rose to his feet and began pacing.
Shortly he had outlined his plans to Jethro, plans that would, he claimed, bring a lot of
outside money into Sunset County. Considering the state of the cattle and timber
businesses, that wasn't all bad, Jethro had to admit.
    "And what would happen to my meadow?"
    "Well, they'd probably make it the center of their development," Charlie said, not
meeting Jethro's eyes. "There was some talk of putting in boardwalks and maybe damming
one arm of the creek, so they could have a small marina." He paused and seemed to take
alarm at Jethro's frown. "For rowboats and canoes. No motor boats," he said, backing off
and making pacifying motions with his fat hands.
    Jethro pushed himself out of his chair. "Now you listen to me, Charlie
Bittenbusch. Ain't nobody gonna turn my ranch into an amusement park." He aimed a
forefinger as Charlie backed away. "We Zengers have held this land for more than a
hundred years and we've used it in the way the Lord intended."
    Charlie was backing toward the door as Jethro advanced. "Not an amusement
park," he protested. " A planned community, with houses and condominiums...."
    "And streets and sidewalks and tennis courts," Jethro continued as he followed
Charlie out onto the porch. "Well, it may come to that for the rest of the land," he admitted,
"but the only way they're gonna put a dam in Wounded Bear Meadow is over my dead
body, Charlie." He stood on his porch as Charlie scurried toward his big, fancy Cadillac.
"And I plan on bein' around a good while yet."
    Watching the plume of dust rise behind Charlie's car, Jethro hoped he wasn't lying.
It wasn't that he had to sell the Z-Bar-Z, but if he and the wife was to ever get to
Mexico and Hawaii, like she'd always wanted to do, he had to get rid of the ranch.
    And he was tired. Dang tired. Man and boy he'd worked this land, and now it was
time to rest.
    If only Jesse had lived, he'd have someone to pass the Zenger heritage on to, but
the boy was buried up there on the hill, alongside his great-great grandpa, who'd first
claimed this land back in 1874.
    And the others didn't care. Of his four children, only Jesse had the love of the land
that could make ranching in this high and lonely land worthwhile. If he were to ask his
other children's advice, they'd tell him to take what he