Right. The vote. The thing hanging over all of this.
"The others will vote yes," I say bluntly. "We need the money too badly. So, if you're waiting for consensus, you're not going to get it. It'll be five against one."
"But you're the one."
"I'm the one who made a promise to Frank that I'd protect this place." I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms. "And I don't trust you not to hurt it, even if you mean well."
She flinches slightly but doesn't look away. "That's fair. I haven't given you any reason to trust me yet. All I can do is try to earn it."
"Trust isn't earned with money."
"I know. That's why I'm here instead of just wiring you a check." She walks to the window, looking out at the view. "I could invest remotely. Send quarterly reports, show up for annual meetings, keep my distance. But that's not what my father would havewanted. He believed in being hands-on. In understanding what you're investing in from the ground up."
"Ranching isn't something you learn from a distance," I admit grudgingly. "If you really want to understand this place, you'll have to work. Real work. Not the kind where you observe and take notes."
She turns, something determined in her eyes. "Then put me to work."
I wasn't expecting that. Was expecting her to nod along, maybe shadow one of us for a few hours, then retreat to crunch numbers on her laptop. Not... this.
"You don't know what you're asking for."
"So, show me." She crosses her arms, mirroring my posture. "You want to test whether I'm serious? Whether I'll bail when things get hard? Then don't coddle me. Put me to work like you would anyone else."
It's a challenge. One I should probably decline, because putting a city girl with no experience to work on an active ranch is asking for someone to get hurt.
But the defiant set of her jaw, the way she's standing her ground despite my hostility, it reminds me of someone. Of myself, maybe, at sixteen when Frank first offered me a job and I was determined to prove I could handle it.
"Fine," I hear myself say. "But if you get hurt or complain, we're done. No second chances."
"Deal."
I push off from the doorframe. "Change into something you don't mind destroying. Meet me at the cattle pens in ten minutes. We’ll get lunch after this."
I leave before she can respond, heading back toward the main area. What am I doing? Tucker's going to kill me if Sierra ends up injured or covered in mud or—
"Wade!" Colt jogs up beside me. "How'd the tour go? She run screaming yet?"
"Not yet. I'm about to put her to work at the cattle pens."
His eyebrows shoot up. "Seriously? Tucker approved this?"
"Tucker said to finish the tour this afternoon. But I want to do this now." I keep walking. "You want to help or not?"
"Oh, I wouldn't miss this." Colt grins. "Mason's at the pens now. We're sorting calves for vaccinations. Perfect introduction to ranch life."
We reach the pens just as Mason is backing up the trailer with the older calves that need processing. It's not glamorous work. It’s loud, dusty, requires quick reflexes and no fear of animals ten times your size.
"Where's the tourist?" Mason asks as I approach.
"Meeting us here. Fair warning: I told her she could help."
Mason and Colt exchange looks.
"You're serious," Mason says.
"She wants to learn the business. This is the business." I grab a pair of work gloves from the fence post. "If she can't handle it, better we know now before we take her money."
"Or before she gets trampled," Colt adds helpfully.
