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“Yeah,” I lie. I hate that she’s talking to some guy and might go see him. Everything inside me says to put a stop to it, so I say something I’m not sure I can even pull off. “Chickens are a great idea. I’ll help you get started.”
“Well, not yet. I still have the issue with the mortgage. The farm might not even be in my family next year.” I can hear the pain in her voice at the thought of that.
“I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” I dip a chip into the salsa.
She stares at me long and hard until my gaze meets hers. “Don’t try to be the savior here. I’m not taking anyone else down with me.”
I chew and swallow, chuckling to myself. “You know as well as I do, it’s either both of us or neither of us.”
We finish our meals, then I drop her off at her car before driving back to the ranch. Now I have to convince another person to go along with my plan, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to need to do a good sales job to get him to say yes.
Chapter Seven
Jude
My dad is out by Bessie when I get back to the ranch. She’s our Guernsey cow, and although we no longer milk her, she’s like our ranch mascot. A lot of us spend some time with her every day, and I can’t deny that I’ve told her a lot of my problems over the years.
“Hey, Dad,” I say, and he pushes himself off the fence.
“Heard you took the afternoon off. Just so we’re clear, when I said to take your brother under your wing, I didn’t mean abandon him.”
“All he had to do?—”
“I’m not getting into this his-word-against-yours bullshit. If you want to enjoy more afternoons off, train your brother properly. End of discussion.”
I stuff my hands in my pockets, not about to argue with my dad. I’m sure Emmett went to Dad and cried that I just left him, but he’s only four years younger than me, and he’s worked the ranch most of his life. I shouldn’t have to detail to him what needs to be done. But I set aside my irritation. I have a bigger agenda on my mind.
“How’s Sadie?” Dad asks, patting Bessie’s side before walking back to the house.
“She’s okay. Took her to lunch.”
“I figured.” My dad has never said one word to me about whether Sadie and I are more than just friends, like everyone else. “Rhea said she’s been asking a lot of questions, and Rhea doesn’t have the answers. She feels a lot of guilt, wishes she’d had Monty talk to Sadie.”
“He should’ve. I mean, how could he do this and never have told her?”
I’m pissed at Mr. Wilkins on Sadie’s behalf. No one knows if it would have been different had he been upfront with her, but at least she could be grieving instead of trying to tread water in a damn hurricane.
“Monty was old-school. He was raised to believe you keep your problems away from your kids. If Sadie had been a boy, I’m not sure it would’ve been different. It was just his way. You don’t burden the ones you love with your problems.”
I think back to when I was younger, and our ranch was on the brink. If it happened now, would my dad have told Ben, Emmett, or me? I’d like to say yes, but I guess it’s time to stop blaming Monty and move forward toward a solution.
“I want to talk to you about something.”
“No.” He opens the screen door at the front of our family home.
Not much has changed over the years. My dad refuses to renovate. There’s still wood paneling on the walls of our family room. Although there’s a flat-screen television now, the couches are still the original brown-and-orange plaid. It’s how Mom decorated our home. A family picture taken only a few months before she died hangs above the fireplace. Sometimes I worry that my dad got stuck after she died and refuses to remove anything related to her. But then he brings women home, so I guess I really don’t understand him. Her death affected us all in different ways, that I do know.
I follow him to the kitchen. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”
He opens the fridge and takes out Jensen’s chicken salad, which everyone loves. “You’re going to ask me if you can co-sign a loan for Sadie.”
I slide up on the counter as he grabs a loaf of bread out of our bread box and a knife out of the drawer. “How did you know that?”
“She went to the bank today. Word travels.”
“Damn Mrs. Doyle. How unethical is that?”
He busies himself making a sandwich. “It’s Willowbrook.”
