I shrug, staring into the dark expanse of fields ahead of me. “I was already here, so I decided to help.”
It never crossed my mind to let them deal with it. Walker was the only one I ever trusted completely. With him gone, there’s no backup to oversee important tasks. Don’t get me wrong, the ranch hands are good men, but this is just their job. They don’t have the same stake in the place as I do. When things go wrong, it’s all on me.
The problem is that it’s unrealistic to be everywhere at once, and eventually, I’ll have to decide what takes precedence—Charlie and the baby or the ranch.
It’s why I agreed to bring my dad out of retirement, so I wouldn’t be stretched thin. But even with his help, I feel like Ihave even more on my plate than ever, along with the crushing guilt of him working while I’m still not there enough for Charlie.
“Next time, send someone to come get me,” Pops calls over his shoulder as he leads his horse into the barn.
I follow him inside. “You already spent the afternoon checking the irrigation line. I wasn’t going to pile more on you, not when you’re supposed to be retired.”
He’s made good on his threat to come back until I hire a foreman. He’s been out in the fields from dawn until dusk, no matter how much I protest.
“Wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t so goddamn stubborn,” he grumbles.
Guilt washes over me like a cold tide.
“When I started, this ranch was nothing but a small piece of land and a pile of timber.” Pops pauses to lift the saddle off his horse’s back and hang it on the wall rack outside its stall. “Why do you think I spent decades busting my ass to turn it into more?”
“So we’d have financial security?”
“It was never about the money, son. I wanted to create a legacy that could be handed down for generations. What I failed to do was give you a choice in the matter.” His shoulders slump as he turns to face me. “My biggest regret is that I pushed you to take over the ranch instead of letting you choose your own path, like I did with Walker and Briar.”
I shake my head. “Pops, you didn’t force me into anything. I chose this.”
“Maybe,” he replies, sounding unconvinced. “But I never gave you the freedom to explore other options.”
I was ten when Pops told me I’d run this ranch one day. He taught me the ropes until the work became second nature. Unlike Walker, I never questioned whether I belonged here. I’vealways loved the quiet peace of the land and the company of animals far more than people.
He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t want you to repeat the same mistakes I did and wake up in thirty years regretting all the milestones you missed with your wife and kids because you were too busy growing the ranch.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You were a damn good dad.” I step closer and clap him on the back. “The best one I could’ve asked for.”
He gives me a feeble smile. “Thanks, son, but I want you to be better than me, and that starts with admitting when you’re in over your head. Your brother found his passion, and you deserve the chance to find yours, and we both know it’s not running this place solo. You’ll never do that if you don’t give yourself time to figure it out. Do me a favor and talk to Briggs about it,” Pops presses. “He might offer a perspective you haven’t considered yet.”
Briggs runs the largest cattle operation in the western United States and owns enough acreage to rival several small countries. We met at a livestock auction in Cheyenne a couple of years back shortly after I took over for Pops. We found common ground over the fact that we both stepped into running the family business, and he’s become a mentor and good friend.
He was only twenty when his dad died of a heart attack and had to learn the ropes of managing thousands of head of cattle almost overnight. In the last twenty-five years, he’s tripled the operations and branched out into grazing and hunting leases. If anyone understands the struggle of scaling a ranch, it’s him.
“I wouldn’t count on him giving me the advice you’re hoping for, Pops,” I warn. “I don’t think he’s ever taken a day off and doesn’t have any intention of settling down.”
“You might be surprised,” Pops counters with confidence. “He’s got a good head for business and common-sense solutions.”
“He’s also the moodiest son of a bitch I’ve ever met,” I add.
If Charlie were here, I imagine she’d tell me that I’m calling the kettle black, but I’m not anywhere near Briggs’s level of crankiness. Regardless, he’s given me good advice in the past so I’m willing to talk to him if it’ll give Pops peace of mind.
Besides, I’ll have to make the trip to Wyoming soon to purchase some cattle and tour Briggs’s operation, so it’ll give me an opportunity to talk with him about it then. And with Pops agreeing to help manage the ranch until I find a long-term solution, I might be able to finally leave the ranch for the ten days or so it’ll take, without worrying about things falling apart in my absence.
By the time I make it back to Charlie’s, it’s dark outside.
I mutter a curse as I shift the armful of takeout and dig out my phone and turn on the flashlight to avoid stumbling through the pitch-black alley.
It’s only a matter of time until Charlie trips over one of the many boxes she’s piled out here or twists her damn ankle on one of the cracks in the asphalt. That’s why I need to get lights installed back here, and soon.
As I approach the back door, our friendly stray pops out from behind the dumpster and zigzags between my legs.
“Hey, bud,” I say with a chuckle. “I’ve gotta feed the missus first, but I’ll bring you some of that fancy canned tuna I picked up for you.”
