“Damn it, Knox.”
“Easton.”
“Easton, what?” I ask.
“Just Easton,” Knox answers with a shrug. “I didn’t exactly ask for his life story.”
I set the brush down and cross my arms before turning fully toward him. “What’s he here for?”
“Um, let’s see.” Knox purses his lips and tilts his eyes upward with exaggerated concentration. “I put him in the bunkhouse where the ranch hands live. I wonder if he’s a ranch hand.”
I step forward and smack his arm playfully. “Shut up.”
He grins wider, then shares, “Dad hired him.”
“Hired him?” I repeat. “As in, paying him?”
“That’s generally how hiring ranch hands work. So, yeah.”
“He knows we can’t afford that.” I shake my head, irritation sparking fast and hot.
We’ve been walking a tightrope for the past two years. Feed costs are up. Cattle prices are unpredictable. Taxes keep rising. Equipment breaks at the worst possible times. We make it work because we have to, because this ranch is etched into our DNA. We’re already supplementing revenue from Knox’s and my meager rodeo winnings.
“I’ve run this ranch since before you were born, Teagan Rae.” Dad’s voice carries through the barn, low and firm, causing my spine to stiffen. “I’m pretty sure I know what I’m doing.”
He steps into view at the other side of the barn, hat pulled low, and his jaw set in that familiar line, the one that means he has already made up his mind.
“I didn’t say you didn’t,” I reply quickly, heat creeping up my neck. “I just?—”
“Just what?” he presses.
I swallow back the instinct to argue. “I’m sorry,” I grumble, hating the way the words taste on my tongue. “I just thought… We’ve been managing.”
Dad walks closer, stopping a few feet away. His eyes aretired, more than they used to be. The lines around them are etched deep with worry.
“Managing ain’t the same as thriving. You, Knox, and Deacon can’t handle the herd alone.”
“We’ve been doing it,” I insist.
“And the three of you have been running yourselves into the ground,” he shoots back.
Knox shifts awkwardly beside me but doesn’t say a word. Dad, on the other hand, digs in. “You and Knox got rodeo season coming up. You think I don’t see how hard you’re training? You think I can’t see how thin you’re stretching yourselves?”
He’s not entirely wrong. Our schedules this year are no joke. More events. More travel. It’s our shot at bigger circuits and equally bigger prize money, the kind that could actually make a difference for the ranch.
“We can handle it,” I huff, stubbornly.
“Maybe. But I ain’t betting the ranch on a maybe.” He steps closer and lowers his voice slightly. “We need the extra help. Not just for the work, but for the long haul.”
“Fine.” I sigh, rolling my eyes.
Dad leaves as abruptly as he arrived. I shove Knox hard in the shoulder the second Dad disappears around the corner. He barely rocks from the impact, which only annoys me more.
“You’re unbelievable,” I snip.
Knox glances down at me, brows lifting slightly, like the big oaf genuinely has no idea what I’m talking about. He leans his hip against the stall as his arms fold loosely across his chest. “What?”
“What do you mean, what?” I throw my hands up in annoyance. “You just stood there.”
