I pull the envelope from my bag and slide it across the counter. My fingers linger on the edge for half a second longer than necessary before letting go.
She opens it, counts quickly, then looks back up at me. "You're entered. Fall Classic is three weeks out. You and Addie Dawson on the colt showcase, right?"
"Yes."
She makes a note and hands me a receipt.
I stare at it. Just like that, the money's gone. The last of it. Years of saving reduced to a slip of paper and a checkmark on a list.
No safety net. No backup plan. Everything on this colt and this show.
I should feel terrified.
Instead, I feel lighter and heavier all at once.
Committed.
As I turn to go, she clears her throat.
"You know," she says, softer now, "you're taking right after your daddy."
I pause.
"He was a good man," she adds. "Did right by folks. Took care of his horses. Took care of people too."
The words land hard and sudden, pressing against something tender I didn't know was exposed.
"He'd be proud to see you back here," she says. "Proud you're doing this."
I manage a nod. Manage not to let my voice crack when I say thank you.
Outside, the sun feels brighter. Sharper. Like it shifted while I was inside.
I make it to my truck and sit for a moment, hands on the wheel, the receipt still clutched in my fingers.
He'd be proud.
I hope so.
I'm pulling back onto ranch property when my phone buzzes in the cupholder.
Unknown number.
I answer, putting it on speaker. "Hello?"
"Hazel Clark?" The voice is professional, confident. "This is Renee Whitman. Kara from Red Fern gave me your number. I heard you might be taking on boarders."
Red Fern recommended us. My pulse kicks.
"We are," I say carefully.
"I'd like to come see your operation," Renee continues. "Watch you work, meet your crew. I'm looking for quality care and consistent training, and Kara spoke highly of what you're building."
My hands tighten on the wheel. "When were you thinking?"
"Tomorrow morning, if that works? Early. I know it's short notice."
Tomorrow.
