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But Sam nods thoughtfully. “That’s a great idea. You should do it.”
My eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”
“Yeah, man. You’re passionate about it, and there’s a need for it. People would support it.”
I can feel a smile breaking out on my face. “You really think so?”
“I know so.” Sam claps me on the back. “And I’ll help you get started.”
I can’t believe it. For the first time in a long time, I feel like there’s a glimmer of hope. Like maybe, just maybe, there’s more to life than ranching.
I finish my beer and toss the can in the back of the truck. “Let’s do it.”
Sam grins. “That’s the spirit.” He rubs his chin. “So, uh, where do we start?”
That sobers me. I know exactly where to start, and it won’t be an easy first step to take. It will, however, be necessary.
“I need to tell my dad I’m selling the cattle,” I announce.
Sam’s eyebrows shoot up. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” I reply firmly. “He loves this ranch, and he deserves to know before I do anything big with it.”
Sam nods slowly. “How do you think he’ll react?”
“He’ll be pissed,” I admit with a dry laugh. “But I need to do it anyway.”
I’m already headed for my truck, grateful that I left the keys in it this afternoon.
“Want me to come with?” Sam asks.
I only hesitate for the briefest moment. “Sure, if you want to watch me get yelled at.”
I’m not looking forward to this conversation, but the success with Fletcher’s Pond has inspired me.
Sam hops in the truck and we drive towards town. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. This is it, the moment of truth. I’m about to tell my dad that I’m selling the cattle and starting an animal sanctuary. This conversation could change everything.
As we pull up to the house my parents bought when I took over the ranch, I nearly lose my nerve.
I take a deep breath and get out of the truck, Sam following close behind. The house looks the same as it always has, with its white clapboard siding and green shutters. But it feels different, like a place I’m already no longer welcome at.
My dad is sitting on the porch with a glass of whiskey. When he sees us, he stands up and waves.
“How you boys doing?”
“Good, sir.” Sam stops in the walkway. “Hope you are.”
“Care for a drink?” my dad asks, though he’s looking at me funny. He knows I’m not one to stop by unannounced.
“No, thank you.” I clear my throat.
My dad’s eyebrows slowly knit together. “Everything all right?”
“I need to talk to you,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
“About what?”
I take another deep breath. “I’m selling the cattle.”
