Page 58 of One Wild Chance

“Agreed.” Grady nods. “If each of us has a role we can own, I think this farm has a shot at making it.”

“Okay, so what jobs do you each want?” I ask.

Grady rubs Gent’s nose. “I want to be involved with the financials, not just the summary James gives us, but the actual numbers. We can’t afford any more surprises.”

“Okay.” I look at the other two. “Wyatt and Rhett, what about you?”

“I want to be involved on the horse side,” Wyatt says. “Sales, stud fees, buying horses. And I definitely want a cowboy hat.”

“We don’t need cowboy hats.”

“Have you seen Hank Branford?” Wyatt asks. “That man owns the room when he walks in.” He points to his head. “It’s the hat.”

“It’s not the hat,” I say. “Branford’s farm is the biggest around.”

“But we need to look the part if we want to be taken seriously,” Wyatt reasons.

“He has a point,” Grady says.

“I’d look good in a hat.” Rhett drags a hand through his hair.

Grady laughs. “What are you, a cowboy cover model?”

Rhett smirks. “It’s not outside the realm of possibility.”

“Guys, can we focus on the farm, please?” I say, trying to get my brothers back on track. The pinch of new boots makes me regret wearing these today.

“He’s onto something, though,” Wyatt says, pointing at Rhett. “He should take some pictures and put them on Lucky Chance’s social media. If we’re rebuilding this place, we need people to know we exist.”

“That’s a great idea, Wy,” I say. “People are already curious about this place because of us.”

Wyatt holds up his hand. “As the guy in charge of the horse side, I decree that cowboy hats are now part of the Lucky Chance brand.”

“You’re not in charge of the way we dress,” I say.

“Someone has to be,” Wyatt says. “Grady’s got the brains, Rhett’s got the looks, and I’m…”

“Delusional?” I deadpan.

“No…enthusiastic,” Wyatt says. “We’re unstoppable together.”

“What about you?” Grady asks his twin. “What’s your job?”

Rhett straightens. “Whatever gets people to like Lucky Chance before they find out how broke we are.”

Wyatt barks out a laugh.

“Seriously?” I ask. “Come up with a real job, Rhett.”

“It is a real job,” Rhett says, looking offended now. “I’ll handle everything outward-facing—marketing, sponsorships, dealmaking. That sort of thing.”

I lean against Dakota Lightning’s stall, thinking. “That’s not a bad idea.”

“Told you I’m not just a pretty face,” Rhett says. “And you?”

“I’m running the operation,” I reply. “Plus volunteering for the youth hockey team.”

“Wait, what happened to all those coaching emails you sent?” Rhett asks.