Page 49 of Heart & Hope

“Ma . . .”

But she pats my forearm and says, “If this is what you want, you have my support.”

“Now, hold on!” Pa shoots forward, pointer finger pressing into the table. “We have to triple-check the demand for what you wanna supply. These numbers need to be compared and accounted for by our accountant. And son, changing the way things are simply because you don’t like them isn’t a valid reason for change.”

And there it is.

The sucker punch to my gut that only Harry Rawlins can provide. His subtle way of saying I don’t stack up to his expectations.

“Harry,” Ma warns.

He turns to her. “No, Louisa, he hasn’t even worked a full season on that ranch, and he wants to change it up. The way things are done around here are done for a reason. Some fad that city folk wanna come out here and blend in is just that—a fad. And when it dries up, we are back to ranching, pure and simple. But we will have debt and overhead that this resort takes to start up. Not happening.”

Pa slams a hand on the table and stalks from the kitchen, snatching his hat on the way out.

“Harry!” Ruby stands, calling after him. Ma holds a hand up, rising from her seat. “Louisa...” Ruby’s face goes from businesslike to pained.

I sink my head into my hands and tangle my fingers in my hair with a sigh.Fuck.I knew it was going to be a hard sell. But I thought we at least had a shot.

Fine fingers wrap around my wrist. “Reed, let me talk to him. I know more about this kind of thing.”

“It’s fine. Thanks anyway, Rubes.”

Groaning, I slide my hands down my face, letting them drop to the hardwood surface. I’m doomed to be a rancher. Same shit every day. Maybe I’ll get lucky and die of boredom. I rise from the table, but she doesn’t follow.

Pushing through the back screen door, I pad to the table under the willow. Ma’s favorite spot. The place where we have Sunday lunches. Our family tradition. But instead of sitting at one of the long bench seats, I slump against the trunk of the tree, partially hidden by the weeping, swaying green branches.

Dropping to my ass on the ground, I close my eyes.

Well, no one can say I didn’t give it a shot.

Footsteps crunch on the grass, closing in slowly.

“You alright, gunny?”

Mack.

“I’ll live.” I don’t bother looking at him, but when my brother sighs and the seat creaks, I force them open.

“What’s got Harry’s goat, saddlin’ up poor Chancy like the ground’s on fire?” Mack chuckles, but it’s strained.

“Told him his whole way of life isn’t up to par.”

He releases a low whistle. “Geez, bet that went down well. The old man doesn’t like being the dumbest guy in the room.”

Always cut and dry, our Mackinlay.

“Yeah, well. That’s probably because he’s the smartest guy we know.”

“Reed, the ranch is yours. You don’t need his permission to do a damn thing. If you want to start a llama circus and grow cannabis for Canadians, he can’t stop you. He signed it over to you.”

With that, I snap my gaze to the house. Ma leans by the back door, studying us. When she sees me staring, she smiles and rolls off the doorjamb, crossing the grass to where I sit.

“You still think our plan is okay?” I ask.

I stand as she weaves her way into the weeping willow. “I do. I think it’s a wonderful idea. But I do have one addition, speaking of adding income streams to the mix.”

“Yeah?”

---