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My musings were interrupted by a soft knock. Turning, I saw Beth holding an envelope in her hand. She handed it over to me.
“Anna dear, I have a letter for you,” she said.
The embossed logo at the top read, ‘Kane Development Corp’.
A sense of indignation flared within me as I opened it.
Richard Kane.
The same man who tried to buy the ranch from Grandpa years ago.
His neatly typed letter was a proposal. He was offering to buy Harrington Ranch, suggesting that given its state, I might find his terms favorable.
The audacity of his assumption made my blood boil.
How could he suggest such a thing after all I’d sacrificed to come back to Marfa? Did he think that just because I’d been away, I would easily sell my family’s legacy? It was almost insulting.
Even if Grandpa’s will hadn’t stipulated that I had to manage the ranch for a year, I’d never sell to developers. They’d turn our land into luxury apartments or shopping centers. If I had sold, it would have been to someone who cherished the land as much as the Harringtons did.
I shook my head in frustration. Crumpling the letter into a tight ball, I threw it into the small bin near the desk.
My emotions surged—a mix of anger, determination, and nostalgia. The challenges from the ranch were mountainous. But the thought of betraying Grandpa’s trust was unimaginable.
Drawing a deep breath, I said a prayer.
“Lord, please help me to make Harrington Ranch successful.”
The road ahead was uncertain. But one thing was clear, I would honor Grandpa’s wishes no matter the cost.
10
Max
Theearlymorningsunbeamed, peeking through the clouds. I was at the gate of the ranch when a familiar voice rang out.
“Max, you old bronco. If it ain’t the cowboy who traded in his spurs for a ranch. Long time, no see!”
I turned to find Jesse “Bulldog” Martinez, my rodeo buddy from back in the day. He sported a battered cowboy hat, scruffy beard, and eyes that sparkled with mischief. Jesse always had a way of making an entrance.
I grinned widely.
“Well, I’ll be!” I exclaimed. “Bulldog, you crazy old cowboy. It’s been too long. What brings you to these parts?”
Jesse clapped me on the back, his grin mirroring mine.
“Was passing through and thought I’d check in on ya. I heard you’d gone from riding broncos to becoming a proper cattleman. Also heard you’re running this place and had to see it with my own eyes. By the looks of it, you’re doing a fine job.”
We went into the ranch and sat on the porch. My housekeeper, Luna, gave Jesse a mug of coffee.
Then we reminisced about our wild rodeo days—the rides, close calls, thrill of the crowd, and camaraderie we had with our fellow riders. We shared stories of dusty arenas, wild horses, and the adrenaline rush that came with each eight-second ride.
Jesse chuckled, sipping his coffee.
“Remember that one time in San Antonio when you tried to ride that unbreakable bronco?”
I laughed, recalling the memory.
“You mean the one that nearly broke my back? Man, those were the days. But times change, and responsibilities grow.”
