Page 79 of One Wild Chance

“Sure,” I say, trying to read what’s behind his eyes. But Branford’s smarter than that; he knows a good poker face is critical when you’re in the horse business.

I take him inside, where he looks over our stallions like he’s checking out his competition. Any thoroughbred-farm owner worth his salt tracks the sales results of other horses the same way I tracked the scoreboard in hockey. You watch which stallions are producing stakes winners, where the stud fees are headed, and which stallions have breeders lining up months before breeding season.

He stops outside Kentucky Gent’s stall. “He’s been a good horse for your father.”

“Sure has.” I rub Gent’s neck.

Branford inspects the horse. “John Chance built a solid operation here. It’s a shame the way things have gone the last few years.” His voice has that syrupy tone of sympathy that rubs me the wrong way. I already know he’s the type of guy to see our bad luck as his next opportunity.

He lifts his hat slightly to readjust it. “It’s just too bad it all happened at once. These kinds of operations are hard to keep up with when family passes on. Especially when the next generation isn’t all that interested in taking it over.”

I tilt my head. “Who said we’re not interested?”

He steps back. “You said at the farmers market that you might expand the farm. But I always got the impression from your dad that you boys didn’t want Lucky Chance.”

“Folks can change their minds.”

He nods at Gent. “Fine animal who was quite the runner in his day. It’s a shame his stud fees have gone down.”

I smooth a hand over Gent’s shoulder, ignoring Branford’s jab. Gent’s best days might be behind him, but he’s still holding his own for Lucky Chance. “His bloodlines haven’t changed.”

“No, but the market has.” Hank leans against the stall. “I’ll be honest with you, Jaxon. I didn’t come here only for the fence. I came because of this stallion. His fees aren’t what they used to be, and I know you need money. I’ve got the cash and want to make an offer on Gent.”

“I’ve already told you we’re not selling,” I say firmly.

He puts a hand up. “I’m asking you to hear me out. You’ve got a farm that’s struggling, and I’m not saying that as an insult. I’ve been watching Lucky Chance Ranch for a long time, saw the way your dad built it up over the years. But times have been hard for everyone, especially your dad. You were off playing hockey—you didn’t know what was happening back here.”

“None of us did.” I wish Dad or Mom had told me what was going on so I could’ve stepped in before we’d gotten to this point. Even after Dad died, Mom kept quiet about all the problems on the farm. She knew that if she’d told me, I’d have come home, and she wasn’t willing to be the reason I quit hockey while I could still play. She was protecting me from a choice I’d have resented for the rest of my life. Sure, it might be the same decision I’m making now, but this time it was my injury that decided for me.

There’s no going back to hockey. And I won’t let my parents down.

“Jaxon, I know what it would take to bring Lucky Chance back to its glory days,” Hank continues. “And right now, you don’t have the capital to do that. So let’s face this problem like men. You know I would give you a fair price for Gent.”

I fold my arms across my chest. “Answer is still no.”

“But you’ve got a florist running the broodmare barn. And we all know Earl wants to go back into retirement. He’s only doing this out of loyalty to your parents.”

“Hold it right there, Hank.” The muscle in my jaw clenches. “Summer’s been managing the broodmare operation at this place with more competence than most men I know. And we are not selling any part of it to you or anyone else. Elijah Chance built this place, and my brothers and I are going to continue the legacy. So I’d appreciate it if you refrained from making offers on my horses or anything else at Lucky Chance.”

“Suit yourself,” he says flatly. “But I think you’re risking too much. Eventually, all those debts will catch up to you. When they do”—he pauses, adjusting his hat—“I’ll still be here.” He pats Gent once more, then turns and saunters out of the barn.

I lean against the door of Gent’s stall as Earl comes inside the barn. “Did Hank leave already?”

I straighten slowly. “Yep.”

“Did he make an offer on Gent?”

I frown. “How’d you know?”

“Been doing it for years,” Earl says, then grabs a stall fork. “Last farm manager almost sold Gent before your mother intervened.” He pauses. “You know he’ll be back.”

“I know.” I sigh. “He knows that selling to him would be the easy way out.”

Earl leans on the fork. “Your dad always said taking the easy way out usually cost him more in the end.”

No wonder Dad hardly ever took a day off. Farm life isn’t a nine-to-five job—it’s a life.

“Earl, what do you really think about me taking over this farm?” I ask him, point-blank. “Am I crazy for thinking I can do this?”