The senator nods appreciatively. “I’m stepping down soon. I’m thinking of joining Madison’s development firm. They’re the future.” He nods at Kaz’s date, who beams at him.
Christ on a crutch!
Campaign funds. Development deals. They’re carving up Wildflower Canyon at the dinner table, and all they need is me to hand over the reins and sign away my legacy.
I sit back, my fork untouched, staring at these polished men and women with their big-city dreams. They don’t smell of cattle, don’t know the weight of a branding iron or the feel of dirt under their nails. And they sure as helldon’t understand what it means to carry a ranch that’s been in the Mercer name for generations.
“I hear you, Senator, but I’m just a cowboy. I like muckin’ stalls more than sittin’ in boardrooms, if you catch my drift.” I layer my tone with just enough polite bullshit to pass for civility.
Celeste’s smile flickers. Reed tries to cover with a nervous titter, and Jessup sips his wine like he’s confident that I’ll come around, eventually.
But I won’t. Not for Landon. Not for Violet. Not for Jessup or his polished developer friends. I’d rather die on Blue Rock dirt in my work boots than sell one acre of it to these vultures.
Before dessert is served, I excuse myself and step out into the garden, needing air.
The damn place looks like a glossy magazine spread. Slate paths, perfect hedges, and a water feature bubbling away like a creek that’s too clean to ever be real. It grates on me. It’s all show, no soul…prettied up, yes, but hollow as a tin can.
I’m there not five minutes when I hear Violet behind me.
“I was looking for you.”
I let out a noncommittal hum.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” She gestures at the garden, at the house glowing warm behind me. “You could live like this, too, Cade. Blue Rock’s worth a fortune. Sell it, and you’ll never have to break your back again.”
I roll my eyes and arch an eyebrow. “I don’t break my back, Violet. I work it. There’s adifference.”
She sighs like I’m a stubborn child. “You’re wasting your life, Cade. Ranching’s dying. You think Evie’s gonna want to shovel manure when she’s older? Landon could be a senator if only you could finally stop living like some relic.”
I take a step closer and smirk. “You thinkthisis living? Glass houses and fake creeks? I’ll take real dirt, real sweat, and a herd that keeps food on people’s plates over this any damn day.”
She sneers, sharpness creeping in. “You’re throwing away the future because you can’t let go of the past.”
I give her a measured look. “You talk like the past is a four-letter word. It ain’t.”
“It’s not going to build a future, Cade,” she flings, exasperated.
“It’s going to build a future that I want—just not one you do,” I correct her. “Let it go, Violet. As long as I’m breathing, Blue Rock will remain a cattle ranch.”
I don’t wait for her reply. I push back through the French doors, ignoring the polished laughter in the dining room. I catch Landon as he’s on his way to or from somewhere.
“Ah, I was looking for you.”
“Yeah? Your wife said the same thing not a minute ago. You lookin’ for me for the same reason she did?”
He grimaces. “We need to talk.”
No shit, Sherlock.
He leads us into his office. Being here makes my skin crawl.
It’s so fucking pretentious—designed to look a little like the Oval Office you see on television shows.
There’s a dark mahogany desk big enough to land a plane on, polished until I can see my own mug reflected in it. An American flag is in one corner, the Colorado state flag in the other, both on gold-tipped poles like he’s about to give a press conference.
Leather chairs that probably cost more than my entire tack room, arranged just so, with some glossy coffee-table books about leadership and Lincoln that no one has ever or will ever read.
The walls are lined with framed photos: Landon shaking hands with half the state legislature, attending ribbon cuttings, and delivering speeches at podiums. Every picture has the same smile, the one that I know he practices in the mirror.
