“You okay?” Morrie asked.
She nodded and returned to the table, where Huck was spinning pasta around his fork.
“What did he want?” Huck asked around a mouthful of spaghetti.
“Just checking in.” Sierra picked up her fork, though her appetite had disappeared. “Being neighborly.”
“Mom, you know you get that line between your eyebrows when you’re worried, right?” Huck pointed his fork at her face. “And it’s showing right now.”
“Eat your dinner.”
“Is it about the missing cows? Because Gunnar St. Claire’s dad says losing cattle is just part of ranching these days. Like coyotes or bad weather.”
“Gunnar St. Claire’s dad is a smart man.” Sierra forced herself to take a bite. The pasta tasted like cardboard, but she chewed and swallowed anyway. “But our cattle aren’t missing. They were stolen. There’s a difference.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Missing means they wandered off or got through a broken fence. Stolen means someone took them on purpose.” Sierra reached for her water glass. “And when someone steals from you on purpose, it could mean they’re planning to do it again.”
Morrie cleared his throat. “Maybe we should consider hiring some extra help. I know money’s tight, but if we could get a couple of young guys to patrol the property at night?—”
“With what payroll?” Sierra cut him off. “I can barely afford to pay you and the other two day hands what I owe.”
“Then maybe it’s time to consider other options.”
“Like what?”
He put his fork down. “Like accepting help when it’s offered. Just sell off a portion of the land. Your pride isn’t worth losing the ranch.”
Huck had stopped eating. Stared at them, his eyes wide.
Sierra took a breath, schooled her voice. “This ranch has been in my family since 1897. My great-great-grandfather built this house with his own hands, raised cattle through droughts and market crashes and two world wars.” Her voice stayed steady, but her hands trembled slightly. “I was born in this house. My father was born in this house. And my son needs to live on the property of his family. This is our family legacy, and I’m not selling it to Alden Jenkins because I’m having a rough patch.”
“Mom.” Huck’s voice was small, uncertain. “Are we going to lose the ranch?”
Sierra reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “No, baby. We’re not going to lose anything.”
“Promise?”
The word stuck in her throat. Somehow, “I promise we’ll fight for it. Every day, as hard as we can.”
It wasn’t the promise he’d asked for, but it was the only one she could make.
Huck nodded, apparently satisfied. “Good. Because I want to raise my kids here, just like you raised me.”
The words took her breath. But of course Huck saw his future on this land, the same way she always had. The same way Grandpa Elway had when he taught her to read cattle signs and fix fences and stand up for what mattered.
“Tell you what,” she said, forcing brightness into her voice. “Let’s finish dinner, and then you can help me check the horses. We need to make sure the barn’s locked up tight tonight.”
“Are you worried about horse thieves too?”
“I’m worried about being careful. There’s a difference.”
She avoided Morrie’s dark look from across the table.
And tried to tell herself that she wasn’t a fool.
But this land was all she had left. And she wasn’t signing it over to anyone, no matter the cost.
