Page 34

"Could."

"But you won't?"

"Nope. I'd rather help a young, hungry rancher build something than let some suit in Denver carve it up and buy a chalet in Aspen."

He leans back and wraps both hands around his coffee mug.

Dutch was old enough to be my father when I showed up out here at eighteen with more nerve than money. He taught me where the ground floods in spring, which sale barn not to trust, and how long to wait before calling a vet on a cow that looks wrong but not wrong enough. He never called any of it teaching.

Now he's offering me the one thing I haven't been able to make happen on my own. I’ll have more ground, more cows, and a real shot at growing.

He pushes the receipt back toward me.

"You run more pairs without adding another place to manage. Same fences, same water system, and same road in."

I look at the numbers again.

Before it slips out of my head, I flip the receipt over and write her name on the back, then turn it face up again

Dutch rubs his mustache. "The phone call?"

I nod. “Yep. The one I met in Florida. She’s pregnant."

"Yours?"

"Yeah."

He gets up, takes both mugs to the sink, and pours out what's left before filling them again. He sets mine back in front of me and sits down.

"Well."

"Yeah."

He taps the receipt again.

"Then the growth matters more now. You can move them out here. There’s plenty of space. It's a damn good place to raise a child."

I turn the cup once on the table.

"The money does matter more now. But she ain't moving out here. She already said as much. She's built her life in North Carolina. And her mother’s in Florida. Hell, I don't think I want to move her here, anyway."

“You could move closer to her."

"No."

He looks at me.

"The ranch is here," I say without hesitation.

"Didn't say it wasn't."

"I'm not moving."

Dutch nods once. "Then you've got two roads. Make enough money to help from here, or someday decide being closer matters more."

"I already know which one I'm taking."

"All right."