I turned away from them, staring out the window again at the land that had shaped every part of who I was. The valley stretched out in the darkness, familiar as my own heartbeat. Somewhere out there, cattle were bedding down for the night. The river was running its eternal course through the cottonwoods. And tomorrow, someone from a New Jersey crime family was going to show up on our doorstep to collect on a debt that would cost us everything, one way or another.
I thought about the kids I’d gone to school with who’d left Hell Creek the first chance they got. Smart ones who’d seen that ranching was a dying way of life, that holding onto the past was just slow-motion suicide. Maybe they’d been right all along.
But standing there in my parents’ dining room, with my sister willing to sacrifice herself and my father’s pride shattered across the table, I knew I couldn’t just walk away. Not yet. Not without a fight.
“What time tomorrow?” I asked.
“Two o’clock,” Dad said. “He’ll be here at two.”
“He?” Heather’s voice had gone small again. “Just one person?”
“A representative,” Mom clarified. “Mr. Valenti’s son is handling the western operations. He’ll be the one coming to discuss...arrangements.”
I felt something cold settle in my gut. A son. The same son who might end up married to my sister if we couldn’t find another way out of this mess.
“What’s his name?” I asked.
My parents exchanged another look, and I knew whatever they were about to say wouldn’t make me feel any better.
“Dante,” my father finally answered. “Dante Valenti.”
“Well,” Heather laughed bitterly. “At least I’ll get to meet him before he becomes my husband.”
I didn’t sleep that night. How could I?
Instead, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, watching shadows from the cottonwood outside my window shift across the plaster. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Heather’s face. That forced smile, the resignation in her eyes. Like she’d already accepted her fate.
Four million dollars. The number kept running through my head like a bad song on repeat. How the hell had things gotten so bad without me noticing? I’d been working the ranch alongside Dad for years now, ever since I’d decided college wasn’t for me. Had I been that blind? Or had they just been that good at hiding it?
Around three in the morning, I gave up on sleep entirely and pulled on my jeans and boots. The house was quiet as I made my way downstairs, avoiding the creaky third step out of habit. Outside, the night air was cold enough to bite, sharp withthe promise of an early frost. My breath plumed white in the darkness.
I walked without thinking, my feet carrying me down the familiar path to the barn. Inside, the horses shifted in their stalls, recognizing my footsteps. Buck, my gelding, nickered softly as I approached.
“Hey, boy,” I murmured, running my hand down his nose. His warmth was solid, real, and something I could hold on to when everything else felt like it was slipping through my fingers.
I leaned against the stall door, breathing in the familiar smells of hay, leather, and horse. This barn had been here longer than I’d been alive. My grandfather had built it with his own hands back when the ranch was in its prime. Three generations of my family had worked this land, poured their sweat and blood into it.
And now some East Coast mobster was going to take it all away. Or take my sister. Same difference, really. Either way, we lost.
The barn door creaked behind me, and I turned to find Dad standing there in his robe and boots, looking about as rough as I felt.
“Figured I’d find you here,” he said quietly, moving to lean against the opposite stall. His face was half-shadowed in the dim light filtering through the cracks in the walls.
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t trust my voice not to crack.
“I know you’re angry with me,” he continued. “You have every right to be. I made a choice that affects all of us, and I didn’t give you or your sister a say in it.”
“You’re damn right I’m angry.” The words came out harder than I’d intended. “How could you not tell us? For years, Dad.Years.”
He flinched, and part of me was glad. The other part—the part that had worshiped this man my whole life—wanted to take it back.
“I thought I could fix it,” he said, his voice rough. “I thought if I just worked harder, made better deals, got lucky with the market... I thought I could pay them back before it came to this.”
“But you couldn’t.”
“No.” He hung his head. “I couldn’t.”
We stood there in silence, two men who’d worked side by side for years but had never been further apart. I wanted to understand, wanted to forgive him, but every time I tried, I saw Heather’s face again.
