Page 10 of Brands

He lets out a soft chuckle. “That was what, five years ago? You were a kid. You’re turning twenty-one next week, but haven’t left Campton since you’ve been an adult.”

Reaching out his palm, he gestures for mine.

His is warm and rough from years of hard work.

When he looks up, the sincerity is raw. “I want you to have crazy and wild experiences, so you never look back and think ‘what if’. Devon sure as hell doesn’t want to do this forever, I can see it.” Dad’s lower lip begins to tremble. “Meet someone. Fall in love. I hope I’m around to walk you down the aisle someday. Hold a grandbaby.”

That makes me snort. “Dad, I’ve never even had a boyfriend.” There’s never been time.

Any free moment I’ve had has been spending time with Char, for years.

I hated her ex, so I always tried to stick close. Just in case.

Not to mention the fact that the guys I went to high school with were royal douche bags.

Hard to meet anyone when I’m face first against a cow’s udder all day and covered in shit.

But I won’t tell Dad that, it justifies his argument for wanting to sell.

“Besides, maybe it’ll be Devon that has a kid first. You never know with him.” I have no problem throwing him under the bus to get my dad’s pressure off me.

“Maybe. Poor girl,” he laughs, letting me go. “Alright. Give me a few days to heal, I might change my mind.”

I watch his jaw clench. A sure sign that there’s no way in hell he’s budging.

Fine.

There are things on my bucket list that are important.

And one of them is keeping the farm, but how?

I’ve got to figure out something on my own.

Char was barely making ends meet with her training operation until Dixon showed up. Maybe I could pick his brain?

I bet Blue might have some suggestions, too. He’s been around all kinds of big outfits that have made things profitable.

I just have to find the right way to ask him so myfather won’t find out.

Chapter Five

Blue

“Clay, this is allfucked up,” I groan and sit back in his office chair.

The duct taped arms stick to my sleeves when I drop my elbows in exasperation.

His dark eyes are sunken. It’s only been ten days since his operation, but I swear he’s aged twenty years.

“I think I have some notes somewhere on poundage. Maybe some registration papers in that pile?” His thick finger points at a tilting tower of disheveled loose leaf notebook pages.

“If you want top dollar on your cows, I need to know how much they produce. Lineage. Health history. How many calves they’ve had. Rate of gain. There’s a long ass list that adds a dollar sign with every piece.” I pull off my hat and set it on another tipping wad of Post-It notes.

There’s years of records here, but no semblance of organization.

Clay leans against the corner of the desk weakly. “I’m sorry, Blue. I can just take them to the sale yard if it’s too much work.”

“Just stop that bullshit. I said I’d help, but I need a starting point. Let’s get inventory on the herd and go from there.” I know with the storm that passed through, they should all be in the main barns and easier to put eyes on.

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