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CHAPTER ONE

SABRINA

It’s blisteringly hot, too hot for western Wyoming this early in the year.

I stand on the porch and watch the dust rise from the road. Out here, it’s flat all the way until it isn’t, and then, mountains rise from nothing, like high walls around a castle. I’m used to it. I’ve never known anything else. The endless miles of nothing feel like comfort.

Behind me, through the screen door, my father sits at the table.

In front of me, my problems crush me like a metal vise. We have a guest coming today, and I’ve been up since four making sure everything is perfect. It’s been a long road from Dad’s retirement to me taking over the ranch and realizing we need a financial boost if we’re going to make it through the year. This guest is high profile, and he’s got it booked for the whole summer via one of Dad’s friends. That means our bills are paid until the auction comes in the fall.

For the next four months, I can breathe.

Alright, not quite breathe, because now I have to play host, but it’s better than bursting into tears every night after my dad and sister are asleep. Once we get back into the swing of things, things will be better. We’ll return to the regular cycle of having cattle to sell and crops to harvest. After Dad retired, we lost two seasons. It was a gaping hole in our finances. I maxed out four credit cards in one month just trying to buy feed and equipment. Those were the nightmare days, when we weren’t sure why Dad’s hands shook so bad, he couldn’t even drive. Now, we have his diagnosis: nerve damage and the regular occurrence of age.

Hearing that was a load off my shoulders.

Nerve damage, I can handle. He’s almost seventy. He had to retire anyway. I knew this was coming. I’m his eldest daughter, the son he never had. This summer was always heading towards me at the speed of a high velocity missile, waiting to blow me to pieces.

I squint. A truck comes up the drive and skids to a halt in the gravel. The engine cuts, and my sister hops out in her usual attire of the shortest jean shorts she can find, a tiny tube top, and cowboy boots, one of the wranglers at her heels. She’s twenty-two, so I couldn’t give a fuck what she does so long as she doesn’t get pregnant. I don’t need another thing on my plate.

I shade my eyes. The wrangler she’s with this time is Colin, a lanky guy with a shock of dark hair and pale blue eyes. He’s a good worker, so she better not fuck him up and make him leave in the middle of the night, crying, like the last one. I was kind of hoping he’d stick around after summer ended.

“You got my groceries?” I say.

She jerks her head, blonde hair falling down her back. “In the truck bed. Store was kinda low on some things, though.”

“Have Colin put it in the hall.”

She nods, and I go back inside. Faintly, I can hear Dad snoring from his office. He never admits to wanting a nap, so he goes in there and falls asleep on the recliner for most of the day sometimes. I tread by, making sure he’s still alright, and close the door. Then, I head to the kitchen and pull out a pot to boil water for pasta. It’s about dinnertime, and even though our guest won’t arrive until late, I want to have leftovers in case he’s hungry.

My hands move of their own accord, pulling things from the fridge, stacking them up on the table. Distantly, I hear Colin piling bags in the hallway. The screen door slams. Silence. He’s probably saying goodbye to Serena, which means trying to eat her entire face. I roll my eyes, peeling the plastic off the chicken.

The doors slams again. Serena clomps into the kitchen.

“How’s Dad?” she asks.

“He’s fine. Sleeping.”

“You need help with dinner?”

I turn, shaking my head. Serena and I are very close, have been our entire lives. I need female reinforcements on a ranch populated with men as far as the eye can see. “You want to feed the dogs? That’d be helpful. And make sure to lock their kennels. I don’t want them barking later.”

She smiles, nodding. I go back to cutting up chicken and dropping it onto the scorching skillet to sear. In minutes, everything smells like garlic and butter. My stomach rumbles, reminding me all I had today was an energy drink and a stick of beef jerky. I really need to get better at that. And drinking water.

Feeling guilty, I fill up a glass and take a sip.

The roux is burning. I set it aside, grabbing the spatula just in time. In goes the milk, then the pasta, and I lower the heat to a simmer. From across the room in our open concept ranch house, I can see Serena dishing out two bowls of kibble for our two Belgian Malinois. Dad calls them the Maligators, says they’re the best judge of character, and if they don’t like any boys we bring back, those boys better hit the road.

I lift the lid, poking at the pasta.

My mind drifts to Colin and Serena. He’s a recent hire to the ranch, and we’re not positive he’ll stay. Probably why Serena is willing to steal him up to her bedroom after Dad is asleep; she’s never been one to stay with men very long. I hope that’s not due to Dad lecturing us constantly on the evils of his own gender, or my reluctance to date. It would be best if she’s just trying to have some fun before settling down. In light of all the baggage our family carries, that would be the healthiest option.

She comes back inside, brushing off her hands.

“How was Dad today?”

“He was fine. Pretty tired,” I say.