Page 2 of More Than This Land

“I’m wondering about the long-term impact on some of these decisions.” She tapped her pen against her notebook. “The thirty-percent reduction to Ray’s hay order, for instance. How long has he been supplying 4C Ranch?”

“Twenty-three years.” He knew the numbers off hand because Ray had spat them at him earlier this morning, claiming that long of a relationship deserved some consideration.

Claire tapped her pen again. “And his pricing?”

“Competitive but overpriced for the amount of hay we need to purchase.”

“So the reduction wasn’t because of quality issues or pricing concerns?”

Heat crawled up the back of his neck, causing a prickling sensation he tried to rub away. “We’re reducing our hay purchase overall. Better land management means we’re producing more of our own supply. It’s basic necessities that I’ll be maintaining.” His jaw tightened, but he kept his temper under control.

“I see.” Claire made a note. “And the community partnerships your grandfather established? The 4H sponsorships, the equipment loans to smaller operations, the below-market rates for neighbors during difficult seasons?”

He should have sent her away. He’d expected precision but not in Dad’s favor. “Those weren’t sustainable business practices. Running a ranch on sentiment doesn’t keep the lights on.”

“Of course not.” Claire slid her pen into the bag without breaking eye contact. “But I’m curious about the ripple effects. Have you noticed any changes in community relationships? Vendor dynamics? Local business referrals? If you were suddenly in trouble, would these people find it in their hearts to help you?”

His crossed arms tightened to the point of pain as his shoulders pulled upward. Every question hammered with the brutal punch of an accusation wrapped in professional courtesy. “The ranch is more profitable than it’s been in a decade.”

“Profitability is important.” He relaxed a bit at her agreement. She closed her notebook and continued. “But in agricultural communities, reputation and relationships often translate to long-term sustainability. A vendor who feels valued might offer you priority during a shortage. A neighbor who received grace during a hard year might return the favor.”

“We don’t need charity.”

“Community goodwill can be an asset you’ll never see on a balance sheet.” The look in her eyes popped the righteous indignation that curdled his stomach. “We all need a little charity sometimes.”

“Are you suggesting I make business decisions based on feelings?” He scoffed at the idea.

Claire’s head tipped to one side. She examined him beneath long, brown lashes. “I’m suggesting the idea that cold efficiency and community stewardship aren’t mutually exclusive. Sometimes the most strategic choice is also the most generous one.”

Dad shifted in the chair, the quiet squeak almost a cheer for Claire’s pointed jabs at Luke’s business model.

Luke stared at this impertinent woman who’d waltzed into his office uninvited and somehow made him feel like a corporate raider instead of a fourth-generation rancher trying to secure his family’s legacy. “Anything else?”

“I’d like to review your vendor contracts in more detail. Look at your community engagement over the last five years compared to profitability trends. That way I can see if there’re opportunities to preserve relationships while maintaining financial health.” She picked up her bag again, settling it over her shoulder with a decisive nod. “But I understand this wasn’t your idea, and I won’t force my services on anyone. If you want me to leave it alone and walk away, I will.”

The room fell silent except for a quiet hiss from the coffee pot as the warmer kicked on. He should tell her to leave. Tell her to take her notebook and her questions and leave his operation alone.

But Dad sat behind the desk wearing an expression Luke recognized. It said this conversation wasn’t over, even if Luke told Claire to go. “The Brand Iron Diner, tomorrow morning at ten. Bring your analysis and we’ll discuss it.”

Claire extended her hand. “I’ll be there.”

Luke shook her hand, softening his grip against her smooth, professional squeeze.

Dad stood as Claire headed for the door. “Thank you for coming on such short notice, Claire. I appreciate your willingness to help.”

It should be Luke saying those words, but he couldn’t get them past the tight feeling of betrayal in his throat.

“Of course, Mr. Calloway. I’ll see you both Tuesday.” She paused at the doorway, glancing back at Luke. “For what it’s worth, your father clearly raised you to care about this ranch. That’s obvious in every decision you’ve made. I’m just trying to find that line where you can honor the legacy and the bottom line.”

A heartbeat later, nothing remained but her footsteps in the hall and the lingering scent of flowers.

He waited until the front door closed with a quick click before he turned to Dad. “You went through my locked filing cabinet.”

“I have a key. I’m still co-owner of the ranch, son, and nothing is off limits.” Dad moved around the desk and clapped a hand to Luke’s shoulder.

“You brought in outside help without discussing it with me. Someone who sees things the same way you do, whose prejudice against my way of doing things will cause conflict.”

Dad let out a huff that sounded halfway between a sigh and a chuckle. “I tried discussing it with you last week. You shut me down, then went and cut out Ray against my wishes.”