Page 39 of The Last Dance You Saved
Rafe
THE COWBOY IN ME
Performed by Tim McGraw
Sweat dripped from my brows andran down my back as I headed toward Levi’s cabin. It had been a long time since I’d stood in the middle of the alfalfa fields, playing handmaiden to the tractor and baling equipment. Now, I had a sunburn from hours spent in the full July sun and blisters under the work gloves I’d borrowed, proving I’d done my part when Laurencouldhave handled the baling on her own and had done her best to remind me of that all day long. But Sadie’s look, full of judgment, had gotten to me, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it besides being irritated it had taken me away from the real business I’d needed to do today for my legitimate company.
To be fair, it hadn’t just been Sadie’s quiet condemnation that had landed me in the field. It had also been Adam’s absolute refusal to take on any of the workload. He’d used his allergies as an excuse growing up too, but then we would come in from the field to find him lazing in an inner tube at the lake with the bluebells and yarrow in full bloom all around him. Once, when I’d complained about it, my dad had cuffed me on the back of the head and reminded me the Hurlys didn’t own the land. If Adam’s dad didn’t want to make him work, that was on them. Dad was paying their father for his time as foreman, not the son.
More than once, I’d wanted to respond by telling my dad I didn’t own the land either. Instead, I’d bitten my tongue, knowing if it had ever slipped out, I would have spent days in the grueling heat, baling hay by hand the way he’d had to do growing up instead of using the equipment. So, I’d simply done whatever job he’d assigned me as quickly as possible so I could return to Levi and the horses, who never made me feel like I’d somehow disappointed them just by breathing.
In the cabin, I showered and pulled on clean clothes before heading back toward the main house. We’d stopped for lunch midday, but I was still starving, so I wolfed down a sandwich, standing up in the cool of the kitchen, and then made my way to the office. The door in the bookshelf that led to the walk-in vault was open, and Fallon’s story about Adam and the time he’d been spending there came slamming back into me.
Silently, I made my way over and looked inside. Adam was flipping through papers in an old file box, glasses slipping down his nose, brows drawn together in a frown. He was muttering to himself, but I couldn’t quite catch what he was saying. Something about knowing it was there somewhere.
“What are you looking for?” I asked.
He jumped, dropping the box on the floor, and the paperwork scattered.
“Jesus Christ!” He put a hand to his heart as the other pushed his square frames back up his nose. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
He squatted down and started tossing items back into the box. I joined him, the musty scent of old paper wafting up from the yellowing files as I collected them.
“What is all this?”
“Nothing that shouldn’t have been thrown out decades ago,” he said too quickly, raising my hackles.
My hands landed on a black-and-white photograph of Great-grandma Beatrice. She was wearing an evening gown that would have been popular in the late thirties, satiny and shimmering. It was the same dress she was wearing in the painting over the mantel, and like in the portrait, diamonds that had put the family and the ranch on the map glittered over her body. A heavy necklace draped over her collarbone and dipped into the V of the neckline while matching layers of bracelets and chandelier earrings completed the set. A stunning tiara I’d never seen before sparkled from the depths of her dark hair.
“I remember your dad mentioning some old movie company stocks the family had inherited. I’ve never seen anything about them in the asset sheets or online accounts, and I wondered what had happened to them,” Adam said in response to my question. “What do you got there?”
“Family picture.” For some reason I couldn’t explain, I didn’t want his hands on it, so I tucked it into my pocket.
Once all the paperwork was shoved back into the box, in no particular order, he slid the lid on and shelved it. I scanned the other boxes. Some were labeled, some not, and I was reminded of how little I knew about the actual business of the ranch, and when I’d had the chance after Dad died, I’d only cared about getting my share of my inheritance.
“I took the stocks,” I told him. “They were for a film studio called Ravaged Storm Productions. The family has owned them since the studio’s inception. Taking them was part of the deal Spencer and I made.”
Adam’s expression turned grim. “Damn. I was hoping they’d be worth something, and we’d be able to sell them to fund the renovations.” When I didn’t reply, he tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked. “How much did you get for them?”
“Don’t worry, Adam. I didn’t rip my brother off. What I ended up with was far less than my due.”
“And yet you’re the primary reason the ranch is failing.”
My gaze held his, and it was Adam who looked away. “Or maybe you and Spence have mismanaged it,” I said just to see his reaction.
His mouth drew tight, and his eyes were cold when he said, “Don’t lay your guilt at my feet. I’ve done my best with what we were left with.”
And somehow, I didn’t think he was just talking about the loan Spence had taken out. He brushed past me and stood at the door of the vault, waiting for me to leave. I walked out and straight to the desk where he had his laptop open with a stream of paperwork spread out next to it. Some were architectural designs, others were detailed spreadsheets, and one was on Hatley Ranch letterhead. When I read the initial paragraph, I realized it was the business plan the Hatleys had given the bank to obtain a loan for their renovation.
“How much do you think you’ll need?” I asked. “And how long before it turns a profit?”
“The Hatleys were profitable in the first four years. They would have been in the black sooner, but I gather someone ran off with a chunk of their money. They had to pay it back anyway.” I didn’t miss the tone that said he knew what that was like and ignored the irritation that flared.
“Again. How much do you need, Adam?”
“A minimum of seven hundred thousand. A million would be better,” he replied.
It wasn’t as much as I’d expected, seeing as I’d just spent nearly nine hundred million getting The Fortress launched, but then again, we weren’t talking about a five-star Vegas hotel and casino. Much to my annoyance, I found myself interested in the idea of what it would take to build an up-scale resort here in my hometown. My mind immediately went to work on upgrading the facilities, obtaining a liquor license, hiring a world-class chef, and assembling a team of outdoor guides.
