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He nods. “They worked out a bunch of arrangements with little trail ride places. Every two-bit trail horse from here to Helena comes from them. Every tourist who wants to sit on the back of a horse and put on a hat? The horse comes from Wild Spur. Rich folk who want to have horses on their land, but don’t know how to care for ‘em? Horses belong to Wild Spur.”
“Wow.” I nod. “That’s…”
It’s a freaking amazing business plan.
Tourism to Montana has skyrocketed over the last decade, as has the number of rich people who buy up places for summer cabins or ski chalets. When they’re here, they want to experience ‘Montana,’ which, inevitably, is a caricature of what it actually means to live here, but it’s one they’re willing to pay top dollar for.
Anyone can make some money running trail rides. If you grow up around horses, you know how to work with them, and you’re probably a better rider than the average tourist. It’s not a bad business plan, if you want to capitalize on the boom.
The problem is the horses. They’re expensive. Care is costly. They need space. Hay. Barns. With the rising cost of property taxes, people are losing their land to developers left and right. If someone else took on the expenses of the horses…
My dad grunts. “Don’t know how they keep those horses looked after when there’s so many of ‘em.” He frowns.
That would definitely be the downside. “Still, it’s pretty smart.”
“Yeah well. Smart is not going to keep them at bay.”
I freeze. “What?”
My dad sighs and pushes back his plate. I note with growing apprehension that while he’s chopped his food into many tiny pieces, he hasn’t eaten any of them. He wipes his lips with a napkin, then looks at me. “They want the ranch, Bluebird.”
I blink. “Our ranch?”
“Yup.”
“But… we… they…” I can’t get the words out. “What do you mean, they want the ranch?”
“I mean, they come by at least once a week. One of them shows up with his hat that’s so new you can still see the steam coming off of it, takes it off, and asks how business is.”
I pale. “Dad. Do they know?”
“That we’ve lost all the winter wheat? That the herd had brucellosis two years ago? That the price of alfalfa is down? That the spring blizzard this year made us lose half of the new calves?”
We have a pretty wide spread of ranching and farming that we do, because we’ve always tried to make ends meet in multiple places. I knew about the brucellosis because we had to sell nearly all of the cows quickly before they died, but I didn’t know that the wheat was lost this year or about the snow and the alfalfa. Doing a quick calculation, my heart skips a beat.
Dad told me that the ranch was in trouble. That we would need to do some creative thinking to make ends meet. I think it might be worse than that.
“Dad…”
He sits back, his eyes shut. “Sorry, Nora. I just…”
“You told me that it was bad,” I say gently. “How bad is it?” I can tell he’s fighting himself, so I prompt him. “I need to know.”
My dad nods sharply. “Well. I guess you’re the one with the fancy business degree and all. So. Here,” he says, pushing the ranch’s accounting book toward me.
I take it, looking up at him. “Dad?”
“I’ll just… I need to go check on the horses,” he says, his voice tight.
With that, he leaves. I hear the screen door slam, the familiar creak of the porch, and then he’s out to the barn.
I sigh. Opening the book, I start to go through the numbers. With every line, my stomach sinks, and my heart leaps further into my throat.
My dad told me that the ranch was struggling. But this—this book doesn’t show a ranch that’s struggling. This shows a ranch that has about one month left before the bank comes calling, and we lose everything.
There are more losses in here than I’ve ever seen. I’m beginning to wonder if the ranch has actually ever been in the black, or if we’ve been existing purely on vibes and good luck, with a few strategic government grants sprinkled in.
I slam the book shut and close my eyes. Twenty-four hours ago, I was a college grad. Fresh out of a breakup, but healing. Coming home to help out my family’s business. For just a heartbeat, I’m jealous of that girl. She could probably have done it. Fixed the issue. Made the family farm profitable again. My dad told me that it had been a couple of bad seasons, and that it could be managed if I came back to help.
