From the sounds of the job description, Seth wasn’t sure he wanted the job either. What the hell had his family gotten him into? A bit of light showed at the end of the proverbial tunnel. “Can’t I name Dustin leader? Give up my claim?” Richard had hinted at such, hadn’t he?
“I wish it were that easy. The passel might demand that he challenge you, and he won’t, because it’s a mark of disrespect. Junior would, and he’d fight dirty.”
A boulder lodged in Seth’s throat. “What do you mean, ‘challenge’?” The lawyer had mentioned challenges, but hadn’t fully explained.
“Exactly what you think I mean. A fight, in possum form. Sometimes to the death.”
What the hell had Seth walked into? “My choices are either man up or nice folks get screwed?”Oh my God! When’s the next flight out of this crazy-ass place!
Monica took her frustrations out on another piece of toast. “And don’t get any bright ideas about simply handing the town to Junior on a silver platter, those folks over there be damned. He’d lose face, and in losing face, he’d lose support. We’re a rather old-fashioned group, I’m afraid. He’ll issue a formal challenge.”
Maybe Seth still stood a chance of dodging the bullet, though he hated to throw Dustin under the bus in his stead. “What happens if I don’t turn?”
“Dustin’ll announce his intent to be leader, Junior’ll challenge him, and I’ll hope for the best. But the challenge might not happen if enough of Junior’s supporters are swayed to Dustin’s side, or vice versa.”
“Which is why they’re both showering me with gifts,” Seth grumbled. “Junior’s hoping to bend me to his will so he can take over, and Dustin wants me to stay here and fulfill my supposed role as a McDaniel.”
“Hey!” Monica managed the closest thing to a smile Seth had ever seen on her face. “Enjoy it. You didn’t ask for gifts; they gave them.”
“I’m a McDaniel.”
“So?”
“I found a notebook my mom wrote. She and Dad were proud to be McDaniels. Aunt Irene was proud. I’m the family screwup.” Monica gave Seth a conspiratorial wink. “Yes. But you can change.”
“How?”
“By pulling yourself up by your bootstraps and being the man you were born to be.”
What? Was she actually trying to help him? “I’m worried I’ll fuck everything up.” He expected scorn and ridicule; what he got ran beyond his wildest dreams.
“I’ll teach you.”
Seth regarded Monica with suspicion. Did he dare hope she’d be on his side? “But you hate me.”
“No, I don’t. I don’t like you, and in my book you’re an ungrateful slacker, but I don’t hate you.”
“Why help me if you don’t like me?”
“Number one: I may not like you, but I don’t like Junior more.
Number two: I love Dustin, and he makes an excellent second-incommand, but he’s a doctor and healer first and foremost. He’s not a fighter or a leader.”
Seth couldn’t have been more shocked if Monica had fallen to her knees and proposed. “And you think I am?”
“You can be. Underneath all that city-slicker exterior beats the heart of a McDaniel. Or so Irene always said. If it’s under there, I owe it to Irene to help you find it.”
At least she wasn’t offering to take the direct route through his chest.
Apparently she wasn’t finished yet. “A wise woman once told me that you don’t have to be perfect to lead; it’s more about your heart than your head, and about caring for your people. And you don’t have to be smart, just smart enough to know where you’re lacking, and surround yourself with folks who’ll take up the slack. Dustin played that role for her, and he’ll play if for you, too, I’m willing to bet.”
Seth took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “The parcel Aunt Irene’s house sits on goes back in my family for hundreds of years.”
“Yep.”
“I have family buried out there.”
“Yep.”
