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His expression hardens as he reaches out and ashes his cigar. "There's a PR shitstorm brewing, Clark. The board is pressuring me to announce my retirement to mitigate the damage."
"So retire."
He coughs out a short, bitter laugh. “Just like that? Hand over my life’s work to some bloodless boardroom shark?” He shakes his head, smoke veiling his eyes for an unsettling moment. “No. It’ll be you or no one.”
I let his words hang as I consider the reality of what he's proposing. Me, stepping back into this world that I'd so consciously left behind. Replacing the earthy smell of hay, the clang of feeding pails, and the low, soothing rumble of a herd at peace with the sterile scent of ink on contracts and the ceaseless hum of high-powered technology. The thought makes my stomach ache.
I run a hand through my hair, feeling the fine dust from the work day still clinging in the strands.
"No," I state, not willing to entertain the idea for even a moment longer. "It won't be me."
"You were always stubborn," he growls, grinding out his words.
"I'm not stubborn. I just don't want what you're offering. I'm happy where I am."
"Your happiness does not matter!" My father's voice booms. "You are a Calloway. It is your duty to lead this company."
"No, I'm a West. I changed my name years ago. This is your duty!" I fling back at him, my voice raw. "And if you can't handle it anymore, then maybe it's time to admit that and step aside! You've got a boardfullof suits desperate to step in and fill your shoes. You don't need me."
He's silent for a moment. The only sound in the room is the ticking clock on the wall. Then he sighs, a deep, heavy sound that I can feel in my bones. "Do you think I don't know that? They're circling like vultures, desperate to pounce on the name I worked so hard to build. But it's not going to be their feast. I don't care if you changed your name. You wereborna Calloway. This is going to be yours, Clark. This is not just your duty. It's yourlegacy. This company, it's more than just expansion and stocks. It's a dream, built from the dust and dirt of a ranch like the one you seem so intent on staying on. Your great-grandfather stood out in those fields and had a dream of making something bigger than himself. Bigger than all of us. And this..." He sweeps his arm out, gesturing to the grand room around us. "This is that dream. And dreams...they're not meant to be handed over to strangers."
"Dreams aren't meant to be inherited either," I murmur, glancing out the window at the sprawling cityscape below. Glass towers glittering like beacons of progress and power, roadways pulsing with the ceaseless rhythm of commerce. I remember when my grandfather would bring me to the city to see my father. And how this view used to enchant me when as a kid, how I wanted to climb down there, into the heart of the world my father ruled over. But by the time I was a teen, living here and mixing with the 'elites' at a fancy school, it felt cold, distant, devoid of the life that pumps like warm blood through the veins of country life. Through my veins, too. This will never be where I belong.
"You're right," he says, stubbing out his cigar. "They're meant to be shared." I can see something in his eyes now, somethingvulnerable and raw. He's not just talking about business anymore.
"Shared, sure. But forced? You're asking me to give up a life I love to step into a dream that I don't want. With people who don't understand or care about the sweat, blood and tears that go into the ranches they take from. They don't see the beauty in a sunrise over the prairies, or the connection between man and beast when the harvest comes around. They don't care about the hardworking men and women who rise before dawn and work until dusk. They won't protect them, won't fight for them because they don't even see them. But I do, Dad.Isee them.Iunderstand them. Because the dream I share is theirs."
He's quiet for a moment, and it's like I can see the cogs turning behind his dark eyes, grinding and twisting in a desperate attempt to understand something that seems so alien to him.
"Then teach them," he finally says, holding my gaze. "Bring your world into this one."
"Father," I start, my tone warning.
"I've never asked you for anything, Clark," he interrupts, his voice a whip-crack in the room's stillness. "Nothing since you decided to leave here and live out on that ranch. But I'm asking you now. Take the mantle."
The plea hangs heavy between us, thicker than molasses and twice as bitter. This conversation feels like beating my head against a brick wall. Just when I think maybe I'm getting somewhere, I realize nothing has changed, and it's immovable as it was before.
Just then, a knock echoes through the room, cutting off my retort before it has a chance to form. Miles pokes his head around the door, eyebrows knitted together in worry.
"Sorry, gentlemen," he says, giving us both a careful look, "but everyone's waiting in the boardroom for that crisismeeting." His gaze lingers on me for a moment longer than it does on my father, his usually jovial eyes filled with concern.
I glance back at my father, who's suddenly aged a decade since we started this conversation. He nods at Miles, but it's me he addresses. "Just... think about what I've said, Clark," he implores, his normally steel gaze softer than I've ever seen it. His hand reaches out and clamps down on my shoulder in a silent plea. "Please."
I swallow hard, an odd lump forming in my throat and I nod, albeit reluctantly. I can't promise anything more. There isn't a molecule in my body that wants this.
As we exit the room, Miles gives me a sympathetic nod and we head down the hallway toward the boardroom. The click of dress shoes and the thud of my work boots against the marble seem as at odds at each other as my father and I are, a rhythmic duet bouncing off the high walls adorned with old family portraits. Great-grandad with his thousand-acre stare and weathered hands, his face carved from the same granite as the hills he toiled over. I pass his gaze and swear I see a flicker of understanding in his old gray eyes.
With a sigh that tastes of ranch dust and resignation, I push through the heavy mahogany doors into the boardroom. Stern faces look up from gleaming iPads, cool smiles that don't reach their eyes.
And there she is. Mariah. Her red hair cascading down her shoulders, her eyes green as Cedarwood Valley in spring, immediately snapping onto mine. Her lips curve into an uncertain smile and something tugs in my chest. It's a little like falling off a horse, that jolting realization when your world suddenly tips sideways and you're plunging toward uncertainty. Except this time, there's no dusty ground waiting for me below. There's just Mariah's eyes, deep and infallible, looking at mewarily like I'm the bucking horse that could do some serious harm if she doesn't roll away.
I swallow again, harder this time. I can feel everyone's eyes on me, but it's hers I can't turn away from. Because when it comes down to it, I'm in love with her. And even though she only said she was in love with me while she was mad, I know she feels it too.
As Mariah's eyes continue to bore into mine from across the room, the chaos around me seems to fade away. In that moment, nothing else matters but her. I know without a doubt that I need to find a way back to her, a way to build our life together in Cedarwood Valley.
This cold, gleaming city will never be my home. My home is in the warmth of Mariah's smile, the melody of her laughter, the sanctuary of her embrace. I want lazy mornings wrapped in her arms, long days working the land, then returning home to her to spend passionate nights worshipping every inch of her lush curves. I want to build a life with this incredible woman, a life rooted in simplicity, freedom, and, most importantly, love.
My father's pleas echo in my mind, but I know where my destiny lies. It's not in this boardroom, signing contracts and crunching numbers. It's not in these towering offices, so far removed from the earth. It's back in Cedarwood Valley with the only woman who has ever truly seen me, accepted me, and loved me for the me I am in my heart.
