I run a luxury resort hotel.
My life revolves around occupancy rates and guest experiences.
Not cattle.
Not irrigation systems.
Still …
My mind drifts.
Back to something Harleigh said.
Her sitting in my passenger seat, telling me I wasn’t seeing its potential.
I swirl the last of the bourbon in my glass.
Potential.
The word has been rattling around in my head nonstop ever since.
The Silver Spur has land.
A lot of it.
Rolling hills.
Creek access.
Views breathtaking enough that I had them tattooed down my arm.
Most people look at that place and see a dying ranch.
Harleigh looked at it and saw something else.
My father is still talking when I tune back in.
“… even if you wanted to keep it,” he says, “what would you do with it?”
That’s the million-dollar question.
I sit back in my chair and cross my arms. “I don’t know yet.”
He scoffs lightly. “Exactly.”
My mother watches me more carefully now.
“You’ve been thinking about it,” she says quietly.
I nod slowly. “Yeah.”
My father shakes his head. “You run one of the most successful properties in the region. Why saddle yourself with a failing ranch?”
I don’t answer. Because the truth is, I don’t have an answer yet.
The waiter returns with the dessert list.
Conversation shifts for a few minutes to safer topics—travel schedules, the upcoming investor summit, my mother’s plans for a charity gala in Cheyenne.
