Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Once upon a time, this land was well tended to. Granted, it wasn’t as green as Lucky Ranch. Few ranches are. Garrett took his role as steward of the land seriously. Together, we worked with conservationists to make the ranch a haven of biodiversity.
I’d love to do the same for Rivers Ranch. But that kind of project takes time. And money. Lots and lots of money. Money I thought I’d have in hand today. Between the cattle and oil operations, Lucky Ranch is a highly profitable enterprise. Even with Mollie receiving Garrett’s monetary assets, the ranch generates so much income, I’d have plenty left over to revive Rivers Ranch.
It’s a smart investment; combining the two ranches would allow me to add lucrative revenue streams to our portfolio. I could increase the size of our cattle and oil operations. Add a hospitality element, maybe renovating my childhood home into some sort of event venue or bed-and-breakfast. Set up a hunting camp that could be rented out or used by local schools for wildlife projects.
It’d be an enormous undertaking, but a worthy one. It would bring revenue to our community, making Hartsville a destination for hunters, weekend travelers, wedding parties.
Instead, that money is going into Mollie’s pocket. I can only imagine what she’ll spend it on. A newer Range Rover? More shiny cowboy boots that wouldn’t last a day on a working ranch?
I turn onto the road, wincing when the truck lurches as I hit a divot. That’s new. The empty front pasture stretches out on my left. A fence, long since abandoned to the elements, sags in several places.
I’m hit by a memory: my dad helping me pull on my work gloves before he squatted beside me next to that fence. He was teaching me how to repair it. It was early morning, spring. Lots of sunshine. Warm enough to leave Duke in his car seat in the back seat of this very truck, the windows rolled down. I remember him singing to himself as Dad patiently helped me dig a deep hole in the ground, the dirt softened from all the rain we’d gotten that year.
I will never forget how proud I felt when the post was up, and Dad squeezed my shoulder. “Now that’s one fine-looking fence, son. Well done.”
Duke had started to fuss, so we climbed back into the truck and headed to the house. Mom fed us a laughably huge lunch: burgers slathered in pimento cheese, homemade sweet potato chips, broccoli casserole. All washed down with toothache-sweet lemonade.
For dessert, there was—what else—Texas sheet cake. Pretty sure my brothers and I polished off the whole thing. Ryder had so much frosting smeared on his face and arms that Mom had to hose him down in the backyard. Then she hooked up the sprinkler, and we spent the afternoon running around in it like the little lunatics we were.
Those were good times.
The best.
My chest hurts even more knowing they’re gone for good, and so is Garrett.
I turn down the music and take a lap around the ranch. House looks okay, but everything else has gone the way of the fence. The hay barn is missing its roof, thanks to a tornado outbreak five years back. The irrigation system quit working ages ago, and now every pasture I pass is barren.
I want to make more memories here so badly. To preserve the memory of my parents and honor all the hard work they put into Rivers Ranch. To create a place where my brothers can thrive and feel safe.
Sometimes, late at night, I even catch myself fantasizing about raising a family of my own here, alongside my brothers and their families. Life wasn’t easy on the ranch, but it was a magical place to grow up.
Swallowing hard, I turn around and head back to the main road. I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do. But I’ll be damned if some stuck-up city girl gets in the way of giving my family the life they deserve.
She wants war, I’ll give her war. I still got some fight in me.
Fight’s all I got left.
CHAPTER 3
Mollie
SWEET-TALKING SACKS OF SHIT
“Mom? Did you hear me?”
Mom nods, even though she continues to look down at her phone, thumbs flying over the screen. “Yeah. Sorry, honey, you know that huge listing I’ve been chasing—”
“The one in Highland Park?”
“Yep.” Mom smiles at her phone. “An email from the owner just came in. I think I got it!”
“That’s amazing. Congrats.”
She finally looks up at me, grabbing her unsweet tea. “Biggest listing in the firm’s history. Sixty million! Can you believe it?”
“Sixty? Wow. Who owns it?”
“Didn’t I tell you? I thought I told you.” She frowns when the server sets down her salad. “I’m sorry, but I asked for this with the dressing and the croutons on the side. The cheese too. Oh, look, Mollie, they also left everything on your salad.”