"I want to save Frank's legacy," Rhett shoots back, his patience fraying. "And unless you've got six thousand dollars for fence materials hiding somewhere, plus the fifteen thousand we owe the feed supplier, plus the loan payment due in six weeks, plus—"
"I get it." I scrub my hands over my face. They still ache from the fence work. Everything aches. "I get it."
Tucker leans forward. "We put it to a vote. That's how we've always done things. Rhett lays out the full proposal, we ask questions, then we vote. Majority decides."
"And if I vote no?" I already know the answer, but I have to ask.
"You're outvoted unless someone else votes no with you." Tucker's expression is sympathetic but firm. "That's the deal. We all agreed when Frank left us this place. No one person gets to make decisions for everyone."
My hands curl into fists on my thighs. "Frank told me to protect this place. To keep it safe from people who'd destroy it for profit."
"Frank also told you to trust your brothers," Mason says. "We all made that promise to him. All of us. And right now, your brothers are telling you we need help."
The betrayal of it stings, even though I know they're right. Even though I can see the same exhaustion on their faces that I feel in my bones. We've all been working ourselves to death trying to keep this place afloat.
"What exactly is Rhett proposing?" I force myself to ask.
Rhett straightens, clicking to a new screen. "Sierra Vaughn invests two hundred thousand dollars immediately. That covers our most pressing debts and funds critical repairs. In exchange, she receives a fifteen percent stake in ranch operations and profits. The six of us maintain the other eighty-five percent equally. She gets input on business decisions, access to learn the ranching side, and transparent accounting. We get the capital we need to stabilize and start building back up."
"Fifteen percent," I repeat. "Of everything Frank built."
"Of everything Frank left us to steward," Tucker corrects gently. "He trusted us to keep this place alive, Wade. However, we need to do that."
"She's coming tomorrow," Rhett continues. "I told her we'd show her around, let her see the operation, answer questions. Then we'd give her our answer."
"You're pretty confident about how this vote's going to go."
"I'm desperate," Rhett says bluntly. "We all are. Even you, though you're too damn stubborn to admit it."
I look around the room at these men who are closer than blood. Tucker, who took me in when his mom let him move into the ranch at fifteen, made me feel less alone. Mason, who taught me to throw a punch and stand my ground when I was angry at the world. Boone and Colt, who showed me what brotherhood could look like. Rhett, who made me laugh even on the worst days.
My family. The only one that matters besides my mother.
And I'm watching our home die.
"Tell me honestly," I say, meeting each of their eyes. "Do you really think this is the answer? That some trust fund kid who's never worked a real day in her life can help us save this place?"
"I think her money can help us save this place," Mason says. "What she does beyond writing the check remains to be seen. But we'll be here to make sure she doesn't screw anything up."
"If she screws up, we lose everything."
"If we don't try, we lose everything anyway." Tucker stands, coming around the desk. "Look, Wade. I know this is hard. I know you made that promise to Frank, and you take it more seriously than any of us. But Frank would want us to fight for this ranch with everything we have. Right now, what we have is an opportunity. Maybe not the one we'd choose, but the one in front of us."
My throat tightens. I don't trust myself to speak.
"All in favor of moving forward with Sierra Vaughn's investment proposal, pending tomorrow's meeting," Tucker says formally.
Five hands go up. Everyone except me.
Tucker waits, but I keep my hands on my knees.
"Motion carries," he says quietly. "Wade, you don't have to like it. But I'm asking you to give her a fair shot tomorrow. One meeting. Can you do that?"
I stand, my chair scraping against the wood floor. "I can show up. That's all I'm promising."
"That's a start."
I leave before anyone can say anything else, walking out into the Montana evening. The sky is turning purple and gold over the mountains, the kind of sunset that used to make Frank pausewhatever he was doing just to watch. He taught me that, to notice the beauty in the middle of the work. To remember why we do this.
