Page 2 of Tessa and Nash

Dallas nods slowly. “Tourism’s picked up,” he says. “Since Faith started running the town’s social media.”

“That’s what got me thinking,” I say quickly. “People want experiences now. They want to stay somewhere that feels real. Ranch stays. Trail rides. A place where kids learn where food comes from and adults remember what quiet sounds like.”

Boone finally turns, studying me carefully. “You’re talking about a guest ranch.”

“Part of the land,” I say, fast. “Not replacing anything. Just adding. Diversifying. Making sure Buckhorn’s still here for the next generation.”

Boone takes a slow pull from his beer. The porch light catches the rim of the bottle, the glint cold as his stare.

“A dude ranch,” he says curiously.

“Guest ranch,” I correct automatically, because if I don’t, if I let it sound like a joke, I’ll talk myself right out of it. “Dude ranch makes it sound like we’re gonna start selling souvenir spurs and teaching city folks how to say ‘howdy’ without choking on it.”

Dallas huffs a laugh. “That’s… not what they do?”

I point at him with my bottle. “Trail rides. Cattle drives for the tourists who want to pretend they’re in an old Western. Cabin stays. Campfire dinners. Horseback lessons. Maybe a little fly fishing if we open up access down near the creek. And we keep it small.”

Boone’s jaw tightens, just a fraction. Dallas’s gaze shifts from me to the pasture.

“That stretch will complicate things,” Boone says carefully.

“How?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Council will bring it up.”

Dallas adds, quieter, “They always do.”

I let it slide. I shouldn’t, but I do. Every good idea has a snag. No point letting one stretch of water scare me off before I even start.

Boone’s eyebrow ticks up. “And sustainable.”

“It matters,” I say, too quick again, hands already going. I can’t help it. When I get an idea, it crawls under my skin until I either build it or it eats me alive. “Solar on the guest cabins. Composting. Low-impact trails. Water-wise landscaping. We’re already doing half of it without calling it that.”

Dallas’s gaze shifts out into the pasture, measuring my words against the land itself. “You’ve thought about this.”

“I’ve been thinking about it for months,” I admit. “Since we talked about that old building at the edge of the property.”

Boone’s mouth quirks. “The one you swore you were fixing up as a ‘guest house’ for when people visit?”

“That was the plan,” I insist. “At first. It’s got good bones. It’s already set back far enough that it wouldn’t interfere with the cattle. And then I started seeing more. Like, if one guest house works, why not two cabins? Why not a whole little section we can set aside and make money on without selling off land or borrowing against our souls?”

Rusty shifts at our feet, lets out a grunt, then settles again as if he’s heard this speech before and approves.

Dallas tips his head. “And how would we manage it? We’re already stretched.”

“I’ve got a plan,” I say, and the word plan is a promise I can’t afford to break. “We start with a soft launch. Limited bookings. Weekends only at first. Faith can help me build an online presence. Social media. Photos. Videos. She’s been practically begging for content that isn’t just pictures of Lila feeding Rusty biscuits.”

Dallas’s lips twitch. “She did post that one where he stole it straight out of her hand.”

“Exactly. People love that stuff.”

Boone’s quiet for a beat, and I can feel him thinking. Boone always thinks. It’s why people trust him. It’s why I end up feeling a little useless around him.

“You gonna go to the council with this?” he asks.

“Yeah.” My pulse ticks up. My body knows what’s coming before I do. “I have to. I need to deal with permits, zoning, and whatever other hoops they want us to jump through.”

Boone’s stare stays firm. “And you’re ready for them to say no?”