CHAPTER ONE
Delta
The morning sun filtered through the lace curtains of the main house, casting soft patterns across the polished hardwood floors. I stepped inside and let the screen door ease shut behind me, listening to the rhythm of a house that had been long lived in. From the kitchen came the faint clatter of pots, telling me Hattie was already busy with breakfast, and somewhere nearby I could hear the low hum of voices, meaning the nurse was checking vitals or reminding Mama to take her supplements.
I found her in the front sitting room, perched in her favorite armchair by the wide bay window with the soft knit of her shawl resting neatly over her shoulders, a book lay open across her lap, her reading glasses balanced low on her nose, but her eyes sharp and shrewd as ever, were fixed on the pasture beyond the window where the cattle moved slowly across the field.
I stepped closer and said, “Morning, Mama.”
She turned her head and gave me a small, knowing smile. “You’re up early.”
I let out a snort. “So are you.”
Her hum was low and amused. “I’ve been up since five.”
I smiled, warmth spreading through my chest. “How you feeling today?”
She shrugged, the motion easy but careful. “Somewhere between thirty and eighty-five.” Her voice softened as she spoke, and I caught the hint of frustration behind it; she never liked being slowed by anything or anyone.
“I miss him,” she said soberly. “But I’m still here, and I’m not about to spend what’s left of my time fading into the walls of this house.”
I swallowed and nodded. “I know.”
For a moment, we sat together in silence, the quiet stretching comfortably between us until she finally spoke again. “You’re doing good with this place,” she said, her voice low but sure. “Your daddy would be proud.”
A tightness built in my chest, sharp and bittersweet. “I’m trying, Mama.”
Her smile was faint. “You’re doing more than trying.” She reached out, her fingers curling gently around my wrist. “But I won’t let you wear this ranch like a weight around your neck, Delta. It’s meant to be carried, not crush you.”
I smiled, shaking my head. “It’s not crushing me, Mama. I’m exactly where I want to be. I wake up every morning knowing I’m doing what I’m meant to do, and coming back here has given me a peace I didn’t even know I was missing. I'm happy, Mama, truly.”
I leaned in and pressed a kiss to her temple. “You let me know if you need anything. You come first, always.”
She patted my hand, her voice soft yet certain. “I know, baby. I know.”
I stay there a moment longer before standing. Nothing was falling apart, the ranch was thriving, and I was doing everything I promised Daddy I would do, doing it well, and building exactly what we dreamed of. That was not what sat heavily on my chest.What settled in was the truth I rarely let myself think about. I am the last Whitmore, with no brothers, no sisters, and no children, and a marriage that was supposed to build a future burned to the ground, leaving me with a legacy that depends entirely on me. This ranch has been in our family for generations, and I have no intention of letting any of it slip away, but one day someone will have to take the reins, someone who loves it the way we do, and someone who understands what it means to belong to it. That was the part that made my throat tighten.
Mama looked up at me, our eyes met, and she didn’t need to hear a single word to know exactly where my mind had gone; she has the same worry tucked away in the soft places of her heart. I leaned in and kissed her temple again. “We are doing all right, Mama. You and I both.” She nodded, her smile returning with pride. “Damn right we are.”
I stood, letting my fingers rest on the back of her chair for a heartbeat longer before I looked toward the kitchen, where the faint sound of Hattie’s laughter drifted through the air. “I’ll check in later.”
“You’d better,” Mama said, her tone sharp but affectionate. “And bring me some of that sweet tea Lena hides in her office.”
I laughed as I started toward the door. “Bossy old woman.”
“Watch it, girl,” she called back, her warning softened by a smile that lingered in my chest long after I stepped out into the morning sun.
I jump in the side-by-side UTV and head to my office. I’m halfway there when my cell vibrates in my back pocket. An unknown number pops up on the screen. Frowning, I swipe to answer anyway. “Hello?” There was no response; just breathing, soft and controlled, like whoever is on the other end wants me to know they’re there. A cold ripple works down the back of my neck.
“Hello?” I try again, sharper this time, still nothing. For a heartbeat, I sit frozen, phone pressed to my ear, dread coiling in my gut. I hang up, my jaw tight, and shove the phone into my pocket, but two steps later, my phone rings again.
Same unknown number , but I don’t answer this time. I hit decline, lock my screen, and keep walking. I tell myself it’s a wrong number. I tell myself it’s nothing. But some deep instinct in me whispers otherwise. I don’t say a word about it when I reach the office, just shove the unease down, intending to bury it under work and routine. But it lingers like a splinter I can’t quite dig out.
Before I can go any further down the rabbit hole in my mind, Lena walks into my office carrying two mugs, the steam curling lazily toward the ceiling, Paige followed close behind her. She had that familiar look on her face, the one that usually meant bad news was on the way. She placed one mug in front of me and lowered herself into the chair across from my desk with a weary sigh that said she had already been at it for hours. Paige took a seat at her desk, but was fully tuned into the conversation.
“So, the Graham family is pushing back again,” she began, wrapping her hands around her mug. “The mom came down with shingles and there was an insurance mix-up.” Poor woman sounded like she was holding it together with duct tape and prayer when I called to confirm.”
I winced and lifted my cup, inhaling the scent before taking a small sip. “Are they going to be all right?”
