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Chapter Fifteen
CALLA
“Dad, have you seen these statements from the bank?” Calla chased her father down as he walked to the barn. She shook the papers from the envelopes she’d uncovered from the very back of Dad’s filing cabinet. “Why didn’t you tell me the ranch was having money problems?”
“‘Cause it’s none of your concern,” her father bit out as he leaned on his cane and took another step. The tremors that had started out in his hands a couple years ago had worsened until his whole body now shook. Which made even simple tasks like walking the uneven dirt lane out to the barn difficult.
“None of my concern?” Calla’s mouth dropped open. How could he— She’d cut her sophomore year at college short to come back and help with the ranch. She’d only known the ranch was in trouble because Harris, her dad’s ranch manager, called and told her what was going on. About how her dad’s condition was worsening more rapidly and about all the debt. Harris had been working at reduced wages for six months out of loyalty to her dad since he’d been with them for almost a decade. But he had a family and couldn’t afford to keep it up.
When Calla got mad and asked Harris why he hadn’t called her earlier, he said her dad forbid him to.
So she came home and was doing her damndest to save the legacy that had been her family’s for three generations. Four, counting Calla.
“That’s right,” Dad turned around and snapped at her. “I didn’t ask you to come back here. I’ve run this farm for twenty-two years. Then you come home from your one year of college—and suddenly you think you know everything about my business? Tryin’ to tell me what to do.” He pointed one trembling finger at Cal. “We just hit a spot of bad luck. Happened before and it’ll happen again. Us Carters always come out just fine.”
Calla breathed out heavily. “You levied a second mortgage on the ranch.” Why wouldn’t he just listen to reason? “And you can barely pay back the interest on the loans each month, much less start chipping away at the principal. Dad,” she pleaded, “the bank’s gonna take the ranch unless we—
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” her dad yelled, his face going red as he spun toward her. He lost his balance as he did it. He took one stumbling step forward to try to stay up but it only sent him crashing to the ground with more momentum.
“Dad,” Calla cried. She’d tried to lurch to catch him but wasn’t able to get to him in time. She leaned over to help him up.
He just swatted at her hands.
“How many times I gotta tell ya to leave me be. The ranch was fine before you got here. I was fine.”
His legs jerked back and forth in the mud with the uncontrollable shakes. He tried getting to his feet by propping his cane and hefting himself up. But his cane slipped in the mud and his butt hit the ground with a splat.
Ignoring his protests, Calla got her hands underneath his armpits and lifted him up. Until he started shouting in her ear, “Don’t need no help getting to my damn feet!”
He pushed her away even though he was collapsing back to the mud by doing so.
Calla finally pulled back, heartbroken as her father glared her down. “Get on,” he waved a hand toward the barn that was still half a field away. “Animals won’t feed themselves.”
He didn’t really mean for her to just leave him there, did he? “They can wait a few more minutes.” She reached for him again. “Just let me help you—
“Dammit girl, am I not speaking English?” He jerked his tremoring arm away from her. “Get on your damn way.”
“Daddy, just—”
“GET!”
Calla turned away and jogged toward the barn, tears stinging her eyes.
“Calla. Calla, it’s just a bad dream. Shh, you’re here with me, baby.”
Calla blinked and startled awake.
There was a warm body at her back. Arms around her. Holding her.
“Liam,” she managed, swallowing and swiping at the tears running down her cheeks.
“Shh, gal, I’ve got ya.” Liam rolled her so that her face came against his chest. Calla hid her face from him. Dammit. She hated crying.
The dream had felt so real. Probably because it wasn’t just a dream. It was a memory.
Dad never would listen to reality when it came to the ranch’s finances. He’d gotten more and more distant every time she’d tried to talk to him. She didn’t know if that was because he just didn’t know what to do about the debt or if it was because of the Huntington’s.
Getting less communicative was one of the symptoms. Memory loss, too. It about broke her heart when her dad would repeat something he’d said just a few minutes earlier. Even when she did manage to get him talking, it was like he wasn’t tracking the conversation in real time. He’d respond to something she’d said five or ten minutes before as if she’d just said it.
