entire ranch together,” he said. “When Grandpa died, my dad and your dad got the house. It was in both their names and the survivor of the two was to get the house. When Uncle George died, the house reverted to my dad. When my dad dies, which will be soon, it all comes to me.”
“What are you talking about?” Kaitlyn shook her head. “Daddy and Uncle John divided up things after Grandpa and Grandma passed on. Daddy got the house and a portion of the land. Your dad got all the other land and more of the cash. That’s when your dad built the house he lives in now. It was all agreed to.”
“That’s not right,” Harold said. “You can look it up the public record. It says George H. Barrett and John J. Barrett, with right of survivorship.” Harold went on, “Well my dad is the survivor.”
Kaitlyn shook her head. “Daddy had a will and he left the ranch to me.”
“Kaitlyn, honey,” Harold said, “he can’t give you what’s not his. And it’s not his.”
“No.” Kaitlyn shook her head. “That’s not right.”
“I’ll bring back the deed.” He waved his hand toward the trailer. “As far as Grandma’s things, I know you have to agree like the family does that none of it belongs to you. You’re not real family.”
She felt like she’d bee slapped. “Jenny and George Barrett were my parents.” Tears stung at the backs of her eyes from the callousness of his words. She’d always liked Harold and her other family members, and it was like a knife twisting in her heart to hear him say what he had. “Everything in that house belongs to me,” she said as the other man went back into her house. “And so does the house.”
“You’re not real family and you know that.” He frowned “You don’t have a drop of Barrett blood in you.”
“It doesn’t matter that I was adopted.” Kaitlyn’s face flushed with heat and she couldn’t help the anger rising up inside her, lacing every word she spoke. “They were my parents in every other sense of the word. Nothing changes the fact that I’m the heir to my parents’ property.”
“I’m taking all the things that were our grandma and grandpa’s.” Harold narrowed his gaze. “Which is a lot of the antiques and artwork and jewelry that are left in this house. You have no right to any of it.” His tone grew as heated as hers had and he looked like he was getting ready to throw the antique jewelry box he was still holding.
She snatched it from him, held it close to her chest, then glanced into the horse trailer and saw the truck nearly filled with her family’s heirlooms, even the old grandfather clock. Things were boxed up, too. They must have started packing last night.
Fury rose inside her, chasing away the pain of his words. “You put back every single thing you’ve taken out of my house.”
Her skin went cold as Harold took a step toward her. “It’s not your house and they’re not your things.” He grabbed the jewelry box to jerk it out of her hands and pushed her out of the way at the same time.
The jewelry box slipped from her grasp. He’d shoved her so hard that she stumbled back, lost her balance, and landed hard on the ground. Shock that he’d knocked her down made her scalp prickle. She could barely hold back tears as she scrambled to her feet. Tears of frustration, anger, and pain at what felt like a betrayal from the cousin she’d been raised with. Had they all agreed like he’d said that she wasn’t real family?
Harold put the jewelry box into the horse trailer then headed back into her house.
“I’m calling the sheriff.” Her voice trembled as she yelled after him. She reached into her jacket pocket for her cell phone and pulled it out. “You can’t just come in and start taking things.”
He turned back around walked up to her. “You go right ahead and I’ll have him escort you from the property today.”
The sound of a powerful truck engine caught both hers and Harold’s attention and they both