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I don’t think this can be managed. The only option is to sell…
I stop that train of thought right in its tracks. Selling can’t be the only option.
Looking around, my heart feels like it’s going to collapse.
This is my home. It’s been my home, and the home of my parents, and their parents. This is the only place I’ve ever felt like I can be myself. I know these rooms; I know this land better than I know myself. This isn’t just a place. It’s part of who I am.
I have to fix it.
My fingers drum on the accounting book, and I feel resolve harden me. This ranch is mine. I owe it to myself, to my family, to save it.
Come hell or high water, I’m going to make sure that Foster Ranch makes it out of this. If I have to sell my own soul to do so, I will.
Because selling the ranch?
Yeah.
I’d sell my soul to the devil himself before I did that.
CHAPTER 2
Nora
After a lifetime of ranch chores, I’ve never exactly been someone who sleeps in late. I’ve always been the first one up out of all of my friends, even after we spent the night out. However, my time in college appears to have changed that slightly.
Because when my dad wakes me to get up? Damn. It’s early.
We eat breakfast quietly in the kitchen. The balloons have sunk slightly, but they still wink at me from the corner.
I put down my cereal bowl and turn. “So. What needs to get done today?”
My dad grunts. “The usual.”
“Dad. Spell it out for me. What’s usual, and what needs to be repaired?”
“I don’t expect you to make repairs. We can ask?—”
“We can ask no one. We can’t pay anyone. Before we figure out… a plan,” I finally say, “we need to get this place in top shape.”
“It’s fine,” my dad says, his voice low.
“I love you, Dad. But I saw the broken fences and the moldy water trough when I drove in. What needs work?”
Hesitantly, he pulls a faded piece of paper out of his pocket. “After the animals have been fed, I was… planning on seeing to the ditch out in the back pasture. The storm a couple of months ago took out the ditch gate, and I haven’t had a chance to burn the ditches out there yet.”
I wrinkle my nose. Burning ditches is a nasty business and usually requires you to file a permit with the fire department. “Did you get the permit in?”
“No, not yet.”
“Okay. That sounds like something I can do. You work on the gate; I’ll get the permit.”
“Okay. There’s only one ATV,” he adds, looking down. “Rats chewed through the battery cables on the other two, so…”
“So, I’ll ride Gunter.”
Gunter, our gelding, and the only male horse in our little trio of horses, is a sweetheart. He’s ancient, a little boring, but rock solid in terms of temperament.
“Okay. Uh. I also haven’t checked the alfalfa yet to make sure it’s coming in, and…”
