A Fantasy Dynasty
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Doomed Dynasty Pt. 02 free porn video
While the vessel was being manoeuvred into her berth, watched by a huge crowd ashore, Matt wondered if his father would casually ask him, ‘Did you happen to bump into a Martha Bridger?’
Matt had been away for two years and 344 days, according to his mother. If he had any misgivings about his parents being less that enthusiastic about seeing their son again he was mistaken.
His father had tears in his eyes and his mother was almost hysterical. Patricia was glad to have him back again, home in time for his birthday and for Christmas. She’d always known that ultimately Matt would drift out of her life, but never had she anticipated that he would be wrenched away so dramatically as he had been went leaving for America in disgrace. At that time she’d suffered the emotional loss that any mother or any other family member for that matter suffers when a family member dies, or is drafted to go to war. But the reassuring letters from Milly cheered her up no end that Matt was doing well in Wyoming.
Matt had noted little change in his mother, she was still slim, but her hair was greying slightly. It pleased him to find that her nature remained spirited and her smile was just as sweet as he had remembered it. The softness that he had always displayed towards his mother, especially when alone with her, quickly re-established itself.
One evening soon after his return, Matt thought he couldn’t remember his mother ever looking so happy. Patricia didn’t move to touch him, she’d been caught staring at him and she smiled beautifully and said, ‘I’m grateful to have you back again Matt.’
The reunion with his father had been different.
On the wharf they had bear-hugged each other, rather over vigorously in fact, and their handshake was an unconscious test of strength. Neither yielded, though a shadow of pain flicked across his father’s face before Patricia had called, ‘Stand aside Collier, it’s time for a mother and son reunion.’
As those excited greetings petered out, Matt took a close look at his father, confirming his initial impressions. Fearless Curtis had lost considerable muscle bulk, his limp had become more pronounced and his complexion had dulled. He had aged, considerably in the time they had been apart.
At the first opportunity Matt said to Patricia, ‘Mum is dad okay? He just doesn’t… well he doesn’t quite look like I remembered him.’ He’d struggled with his words, trying to avoid alarming his mother.
‘He’s accelerating into older age. He’s played hard throughout his life and now he’s paying the price for those excesses. Be warned, Matt. You behave exactly like your father, so much so that it’s frightening. Everyone says you look more like me than him, but I see beyond those surface similarities. You image your father Matt. Try to avoid imaging his darker side my dear one.’
Shaken by those words, Matt thought it was the most profound thing his mother had ever said to him. Perhaps now she spoke to him as an adult. So she knew his father’s reputation was not all based on gossip and exaggerations, he wondered if she knew about the fading beauty Martha.
One evening, when Patricia had gone out to a fund-raising concert Matt did the dishes. Never in his life had he seen his father do anything domestic, apart from carving the meat. At least he didn’t mirror his image to that selfish extent. He went to the front porch, where in the late-summer twilight his father had already poured two glasses of whisky and had his glass in his hand and held out the other. Matt though that this was the opportunity for which he had been waiting. He proceeded slowly.
‘Dad we have talked about Wyoming and people we both know. Tell me, how did Ponto get that particular name? I often thought about it but never got to asking him, possibly in case I rattled skeletons.’
His father shook with a belly laugh. ‘No, nothing would cause Ponto any grief. But I do know how he got his name, and am surprised that you didn’t enquire. You would have found that you both had something similar in naming. On my second trip over there I found he was actually named Peter Rivers, though all the time I knew him, and I had met several of his very old friends, I never heard him called anything but Ponto. Then one day I picked up a letter from the mailbox and almost put it back for re-sorting, as it was addressed to Mr Peter Rivers. Milly was with me and that’s when I learned his real name.’
His father sighed, ‘Ah, those days. Milly told me that Ponto was part Indian, his paternal grandfather had actually been born and brought up on a reservation. Ponto had told her that when his grandfather became ill, he arrived at his son’s family home on a small rundown block of land. He came on a pony with quarter horse breeding and even further back, Shetland pony origins apparently. His excited grandson, going by the name of Peter, loved horses and his grandfather’s undernourished, small-boned mount particularly appealed to the youngster.
‘The old man, asked his grandson, who was only four at the time, if he liked the pinto. The boy said ‘Pinto? Me Ponto’. From there it was just like you calling yourself Matt. Grandfather Rivers began calling the boy Ponto as a joke, and the name stuck.’
By now Collier had poured himself another whisky. Matt could tell his mood was melancholy. He took the plunge, making an oblique probe.
‘Dad, you visited Milly twice, but what she said, but she told me that she saw very little of you. She said something like, ‘You had met your perfect companion within days of your first visit. Who was that?’
Collier Fearless Curtis looked closely at his son. But his son gave nothing away, innocently studying the rim of his empty whisky glass. ‘Milly been shooting off her mouth has she?’ he snapped.
Matt was fearless. Looking his father straight in the eye he said, ‘No. Actually it was Martha herself. I think she’s still in love with you, or at least the memory of you dad.’
Collier looked at his son startled. ‘Bloody hell, don’t you ever say that to anyone, it would kill your mother if she heard that. I suspect that she knows that I had a bit of a fling when I was over there, but nothing more than that.’ He then growled, ‘And I want it kept that way. Right?’
‘Fair enough, dad. But I would like to hear more. I reckon she’s the most beautiful woman of her age that I have ever seen. And dad you want to see her daughter!’
Collier straightened, ‘She has a daughter?’
Laughing Matt punched him affectionately on the upper arm, causing Collier to wince. ‘She’s not one of yours. She has the look of her parents and as you know Lukas is also blond.’
‘You didn’t write about any of this in your letters?’
‘No, and why would I be writing about a certain blonde woman?’
‘I suspected that Milly might have hinted something in her letters to mum over the years. I wouldn’t put it past her stirring the pot a bit.’
‘Dad tell me about meeting Martha.’
Collier sighed, and talked on for nearly two hours, pausing only to ask Matt to fetch another bottle of whisky. Matt returned with it quickly, eager to hear more. His father described their first meeting, at a dance at the time of the annual Rendezvous Parade, a cowboy-oriented get-together and carnival. His eyes fell on only one girl amongst the large number of them in the dancehall. She a striking blonde, dressed mainly in white, and was surrounded by a group of males of various ages. Collier pushed though the ring and boldly asked her to dance with him.
A young man standing closest to her, actually with an arm around her waist, told Collier to buzz off, calling Collier a fly-blown foreigner.
Collier said he stood his ground. The man, bigger than Collier, brushed the blonde aside and took a swing at Collier who dodged it easily and came back with a heavy punch that collapsed his assailant to the ground. Just as Collier was beginning to feel really good, his eye caught a
movement to his left. He turned just in time to see the smiling blonde hit him on the head with a bottle.
Collier regained consciousness, lying on the ground outside the dancehall. He went over to the steps on his hands and knees and was sitting there, bent over with his hands on his temples, groaning when he heard this ever-so friendly voice say, ‘You poor boy.’
The girl whom he’d come to know as Martha brushed aside his hands and took a look at the spot when she had hit him with the full bottle of beer. She kissed it, and walked off without another word.
‘Women,’ said his father, shaking his head. ‘They’re impossible to understand.’
He continued the story. ‘Martha came over to Milly’s the next afternoon. I shot out of sight into my bedroom. But Milly called me to come out, and formally introduced us. Martha said she had been horrible to me the previous evening and to compensate, wanted to take me out. I thought that was something special. Never in my life had a woman asked me out on a date.’
Matt nodded. ‘Know what you mean, dad. Now settle in and I tell you about how I met a very forthright blonde called Caitlin.’
Just before 10:00 Patricia walked in. Matt jumped to his feet, pretending that he’s not been dozing. His father was well gone, mouth open and snoring lightly. Patricia noted the empty and half empty bottles on the table. ‘I see that you boys have managed to entertain yourselves.’
‘Right mum, we had a great chin-wag. Probably our best ever.’
‘That’s nice. He really missed you when you were away. He’s a hard man though he would never admit it. Come on, you go to bed. Leave him there. He’ll put himself to bed when he wakes up after dreaming. What he dreams about when he’s had a few drinks I’ll never know.’
Matt went off to bed, grinning. He thought it best that his father’s dreams remain secret. He guessed that although his father was asleep in his chair, he mind was far away, cavorting about somewhere in Wyoming.
* * *
On the morning of Matt’s twenty-first birthday he went with his parents to the family’s law firm.
Senior partner Bert Wheeler shook Matt’s hand and congratulated him for attaining the age of consent. ‘You have grown into a fine looking young man Matt,’ said Bert. ‘And now I need you and Collier to sign these papers.’
That done Bert handed Matt a cheque for £33,000. Matt had reached the age stipulated in his paternal grandfather’s will when the money he left to Matt could be handed over.
‘Treasure this moment, Matt,’ said his father. ‘Forever after it will you be handing over cheques to greedy lawyers.’
Although it was only mid-morning, Bert went to a cabinet and poured lemonade for Patricia and three whiskies. ‘It’s early but we need to mark this significant occasion for Matt,’ said Bert. He offered to invest the money for Matt, either on call or to lend it out to a trusted client at a higher interest rate for the purchase of a run-off property.
‘Thanks all the same but I am determined to do my own thing Bert. I guess I can call you Bert now that I’m a man?’
‘Certainly, Matt, and I will not be surprised if I continue to act for you on your own account from this day.’
Matt nodded in agreement.
He had noticed that Collier looked at him proudly when he turned down Bert’s investment suggestions whereas his mother had looked a little apprehensive. Mothers always worry, thought Matt. He also knew Collier’s thinking, ‘Never leave your money in the hands of lawyers or bankers. Plough it back into the land or buy property.’ That was Collier’s policy inherited from his father.
Patricia and Collier held Matt’s birthday party in the town hall, hired at a heavily discounted rate, as Collier was the Mayor of Miranda.
‘Almost everyone who is anyone in this town will be here this evening,’ his father told Matt. The three Curtis’ were aware that this was the first public function attended by Matt since his return from Wyoming.
They needn’t have worried. No adverse reaction to Matt was displayed. Word had spread during recent weeks about Matt’s return. The local gossip was that he had emerged from exile as a reformed young man.
Matt’s closest friend of his boyhood days, Merv Higgs, arrived from Auckland to join the celebrations. Merv, soon to commence his last year at law school, had grown a beard and Matt scarcely recognised him when he arrived unannounced. But seconds later they were noisily downing a beer and whisky chaser excitedly catching up on their years of separation.
At 4:00 the next day Patricia finally went to sleep, content that her son had just safely arrived home. He was with Merv, and both men were very drunk. After lunch Merv set off to catch the ferry to Wellington and then to take the night express train to Auckland. His parting words to Matt were, ‘Don’t forget Matt, bricks and mortar. Goodbye Collier, goodbye Mrs Curtis.’
‘What a lovely young man,’ said Patricia. ‘It’s a pity he doesn’t live here any longer. What did he mean by bricks and mortar?’
‘Oh that,’ said Matt. ‘It’s the investment advice that the law firm he’s working for during the university recess is giving to its well-heeled clients. It’s their Number One investment recommendation.’
‘Well then, Matt, you’d better begin looking in the morning.’
But Matt had already been looking, for the past six months in fact, knowing that his legacy would soon be handed over to him. That afternoon he entered a contract in partnership with his father’s accountant, Alec Bishop, to buy the old Land & Grain Agency Building on the edge of Miranda.
The building was now used as a saddlery and an associated footwear repair business. The upper floor was disused. It was located in a prime position, a hop and jump off the town’s main street backing on to the river, but needed upgrading.
‘It’s ripe for redevelopment,’ Alec had told Matt. ‘I had an engineer look at it and he reported it’s structurally sound but needs a new roof and quite a lot of other overdue maintenance.
The accountant was pleased to take Matt in as a partner to own the building because the cost of the half-share of the purchase would leave Matt with a tidy sum to put towards his share of redevelopment costs.
CHAPTER 5
In Wyoming and finishing dinner with Milly and Ponto in her ranch house one wet evening, Cody waited until Ponto had wandered off to the back of the house. He then delivered some bad news.
‘I ran into Commissioner Lacy outside the courthouse this morning, you know, Martha’s uncle. Bad news, I’m afraid. Caitlin’s got pregnant to that banker fellow in Switzerland and they got married at a small ceremony as the insistence of his parents. Apparently Caitlin wasn’t feeling well and agreed to not having anyone there but immediate family. I know you were hoping to receive a wedding invitation from Lukas and Martha one day soon. It will be a real disappointment to you.’
Milly sat stunned. She then swallowed, and flicked a hand over the corner of her left eye. Rising to her feet she announced, ‘I’m going to check on the horses,’ and left without saying another word.
Cody, who only had a vague memory of Martha and had never met Caitlin, knew that Milly was hurt as she was always talking about the Bridger’s and he knew she was Caitlin’s godmother. She had been eagerly waiting for an invitation to the wedding.
* * *
Fifteen months after Matt returned from America, Collier ‘Fearless’ Curtis died aged sixty-five. Collier had been alone in the house, having returned from his weekly meeting with his farm manager. Over the years Faraway Farm had been sold down to become a mere 6300-acre sheep and cattle property
Finding the house empty, Collier went to the beach where he liked to wander about occasionally. He had only been there a short time when he collapsed and died. A guy walking his dog came across the body, awash by the turning tide. At first it
was thought Collier had drowned, but the post-mortem revealed that he had died of a massive heart attack.
It was a shock for Patricia, as her husband had shown no sign of illness and nor had he complained that day of not feeling well. Her grieving was brief as she was a very practical woman and had Matt to comfort her. It was the first time since he was a child that she had seen Matt weep, but he recovered well and remained close to her until after the funeral.
Patricia had always regarded Collier as her companion for life, even though she knew he had shared himself with other women throughout their years of marriage. Now he was gone, and she missed him more that she’d expected. She resolved to do everything within her power to make Matt a worthy successor to his father, establishing continuity of the Curtis dynasty based on Faraway Farm.
Patricia felt relieved that she no longer would have to act as Mayoress of Miranda, preferring to work for the community out of the limelight.
The day of the funeral dawned fine. When Matt brought a breakfast tray to his mother’s bedside she asked him to sit down and hear her out.
‘Your father is leaving you a considerable amount of money and all of his personal things,’ she told him. ‘A generous sum of money goes to Milly and then everything else goes to me. But tomorrow I want you to come with me to our lawyer. I will be instructing Bert Wheeler pending probate to prepare for the transfer everything in my name to you including this house, the farm, shares in the ski field and our investment property in Queenstown. All that I ask is that you allow me to continue to live in this house for as long as I wish and to divert a small amount of cash my way to cover living expenses and incidental expenditure.’
‘Mother!’ exclaimed Matt, utterly surprised. He had not called her that for many years. ‘You don’t have to do this.’
‘I know.’
‘But shouldn’t you wait until I turn twenty-five or even thirty, until I have that so-called maturity and have learned more about managing financial affairs?’
‘Matt, you are your father’s son. You may not be aware how much you have learned from him and I feel if you are not ready now to step into his shoes, you never will be. You are a quick learner, and have a very active mind, rather too active I have found at times. We have numerous advisers ready to take fees from us, so you won’t be running alone. As it has been written Matt seize the day!’
‘Well, if you are sure thank you, oh thank you mother, I’ll not let you down,’ said Matt, hugging his mother tightly, his emotions swirling.
Patricia could feel his pounding heart against her shoulder, and smiled contentedly. A new era for the Curtis family had begun. Matt would now be a farmer in his own right.
People began arriving in Miranda for Collier’s funeral. One of the first cables from overseas had been from Milly, who announced that she and Cody were flying out and hoped to arrive just in time for the service. Patricia received that news of the imminent arrival of her much younger sister-in-law with great pleasure but with a frown said, ‘Cody, is that a misprint? Should not that person be Pinto?’
‘No it definitely says Cody,’ replied Matt, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully.
‘Well then who is this Cody? Do we know him?’
‘No, you don’t but I do, met him at my farewell party. He’s an under sheriff, quite a bit younger than Milly and a bit flabby with a beer belly. He and Milly seemed to be getting along very well that evening. They had not seen each other for years. He left in ’44 to enlist and lived elsewhere after the war ended. He returned to Wyoming to take up his new job only a week or so before my farewell party.’
‘How strange?’ Patricia mused. ‘We’ve had letters from Milly since your return and she never mentioned him. Are they married?’
‘I’ve got no idea, I don’t even know if Milly is interested in having a man in her bed.’
‘Matt! There is no need to be coarse. We’ll just have to wait and see. I can’t understand why she would want to associate with a man again after what she went through.’
Hortense
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