Page 2 of Beauden & Yelena

ChapterTwo

“You are the only nigga that frowns when making money,” my younger brother Breaudie teases.

“I’ll never frown at money,” I retort. “It’s the people. Just because they are coming to a ranch, they make stupid ass assumptions.”

“That’s them. Fuck ’em and make your money,” he adds. “Do you know how many ranchers lose money during the winter?”

Of course, I know. I’m a rancher.

The Phoxes Den Ranch is my property and baby. I own every acre along with the cattle, horses, and homes. Breaudie is right; many ranchers struggle to keep their heads above water during the winter months. One of the biggest challenges during the harsh cold is feeding cattle.

Because most of the grass and other plants that cows normally eat are dormant, it’s more costly to feed them. I use stored hay along with Breaudie’s natural protein supplement that helps the cows break down some of the winter grasses. It’s not cheap and with four hundred heads of cattle, the daily feeding fees quickly add up. However, he’s right. I’m not hurting. My ranch is very profitable during the winter months.

The Phoxes Den has three living spaces: a ranch house for all of my ranch hands, a three bedroom, two bath foreman house, and the main estate lodge. Since it’s only me, I live in the foreman house; it’s more than enough space.

I use the main estate lodge for profit. Since it is a huge source of my income, I spared no expense when I converted the two-story, massive lodge into a luxury bed and breakfast. It has seven private bedrooms with private baths, two additional common bathrooms, a state-of-the-art kitchen, a grand and informal dining area, two bars, an entertainment room, and an extra-large great room. When I worked with the design team, I wanted to ensure the guests had everything they needed.

Although we have private bookings year-round, November through February is reserved for corporate and leadership retreats and holiday bookings. I gave up my suit and tie, stress, and all corporate bullshit five years ago and invested everything I had into The Phoxes Den. As an aggressive financial analyst and investor, I accumulated a nice portfolio—with diversified investments in crypto, ETFs, and stocks—and purchased the ranch from the previous owner. I rebranded it, added the equine stables and horses, and remodeled the main lodge.

I loved growing up on my family’s ranch and I was craving the outdoors and working with my hands. Even though I left the cutthroat boardroom, I am still familiar with its nuisances and the likes and wants of those still working in it. This insider information allows me to tailor unique and effective retreats for a substantial price.

“You know I know. I watched Mom and Dad struggle a few winters when we were kids,” I remind him. They don’t have that issue now because I will always make sure they and their ranch are straight. They are still here in Miller’s Pointe, twenty miles from me. “Trust me, if I’m frowning, it’s because I get a little annoyed thinking about some of these corporate people. The men overdo everything, trying to prove how hard they are and the ladies?—”

He smirks, cutting me off. “The ladies love Black cowboys. That shouldn’t be a problem.”

“But I’m not some fantasy or a damn fling. I’m good over here.”

The women are worse than the men. Although I frown upon it, a few of my ranch hands have fucked around with some of them but not me. I’m not here to fulfill one of their sexual fantasies.

“There goes that frown,” he pokes. He says I frown all the damn time.

“Kit, go the fuck on. I’m good,” I tell him, calling him by the nickname he hates. My mom started calling him that when he was barely two. I was seven at the time. “Finish your food; I need help with these trees.”

“I came over for business and breakfast. That’s it. I got plenty to do back home. I’m not working over here. You got a whole ass ranching team for that.”

Breaudie is the foreman at my parents’ place, The R&E Ranch, named after them—Richard and Eden—and he has his own company.

“It’s for the kids,” I remind him. Each year The Phoxes Den donates Christmas trees to City Hall. They sponsor needy families and donate trees and gifts for those families and I do my part every Christmas.

“I know but you have plenty of help. I got my own shit to do. Besides, I’m donating toys.”

“Then, your breakfast is twenty dollars,” I tease.

“Then fuck the family discount on my protein supplement too. You owe me two more stacks,” he retorts, talking shit. “As much as you charge for these retreats, we both know you got it.”

“I do okay.”

“Nigga, four grand per person is more than okay.”

“It’s worth every penny. Everything is all-inclusive. Even for the corporate events.”

“And you make a grip with those too,” he scoffs but he’s right.

The corporate events are eight hundred fifty per person, per night. I make enough during the winter to actually sustain the ranch all year. The cattle and horse sales are all straight profit.

My brother’s visit initially was for business. He was delivering my order but stayed for breakfast. His protein supplement is his own blend and it’s the best on the market. I will not feed my animals any other brand.

I finish my corned beef hash and toast then leave him in the kitchen to eat his pancakes. Besides making sure the Christmas trees are chopped, I need to make sure the barns are set for the retreat. The SP & Jones executive team is scheduled to arrive at Crescent Falls Airport at nine tomorrow and my shuttle should have them here before ten.

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