My father nods slowly, like that confirms exactly what he expected.
“Well,” he says calmly, “then we’ll just have to wait and sell it after he passes.”
The words hit me harder than they should.
“I’m not so sure I want to sell it anymore.”
Both of my parents look at me now.
“What would you want with a run-down ranch?” Dad asks.
I shrug. “I have a lot of good memories there.”
And that’s the truth.
Some of the best ones I have.
“I love the Silver Spur.”
I spent a lot of time there when I was growing up. While Mom and Dad were busy with work and their packed social calendars, I was on the back of a horse, helping Granddad wrangle cows, or assisting my grandmother in her garden.
“So do I,” Mom says fondly.
I glance at her.
There’s something distant in her eyes.
Like she’s remembering the same beautiful place I do.
The home she grew up in. The one her father built for her and her mother.
My father snorts lightly. “It’s nothing but a money pit now.” His words cut through the nostalgia like a knife. “That place has been bleeding cash for years.” He leans forward. “And you don’t have the time to deal with a dilapidated property.”
My mother sniffles softly.
The sound surprises all of us.
She quickly dabs at the corner of her eye with her napkin. “It’s just …” she murmurs. “My mother loved that place.”
My father’s expression softens immediately.
Barron reaches over and gently squeezes her hand. “You’ll always have your memories,” he says quietly. His tone is gentler now. More husband than businessman.
I look down at the table.
Because the truth is …
He’s not wrong.
The Silver Spur is falling apart.
The barns lean.
The fences sag.
The house itself needs tons of work to make it suitable again.
And I have no idea what I’d do with a ranch.
