Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
CASSIDY
I tossed another log onto the fire. The flames crackled and licked at the fresh wood, sending a shower of sparks into the air before settling down again. The heat radiated outward, warming the large, open space of the lodge lobby. It was quiet. Most of the guests had already turned in for the night. The only sounds were the distant ticking of the old grandfather clock by the window and the pop of wood from the fire.
Outside, snow was falling, blanketing the ranch in a layer of white. It would be a few inches by morning, making the trek to the barn and the bunkhouse a little more challenging. Not that I minded. I’d grown up around snow. I knew how to take my time with it. It wasn’t like I had anything to hurry for.
The fresh snow always made everything feel so clean. And quiet. By this time tomorrow I would likely be bitching about wet feet and mud. But tonight, it was pretty.
The lodge was shut down for the evening, which was when I liked it best. I enjoyed the peace and quiet after a busy day. I was the last one still moving around, making sure everything was in order before I headed down to my own bed. The rest of the staff were long gone.
I rubbed my hands together, enjoying the moment of peace. Winter was always the slow season at the ranch. There wasn’t as much to do and not many guests. The ones who did come were usually here for the quiet, the slower pace, and maybe some holiday magic.
It was hard to imagine that same quiet ranch was teetering on the edge of financial ruin. No one was actually saying it, but there were rumors. People were talking. It wasn’t hard to figure out two plus two wasn’t making five.
The thought hit me like a bucket of cold water. I had no idea what I would do if the ranch went into foreclosure. It was all I knew. Everyone else here had a life before the ranch and they would have lives after the ranch.
Not me. This was it. I didn’t know how to function in the real world.
A sudden creak from the old staircase caught my attention. I glanced over my shoulder, expecting to see one of the guests sneaking down for a midnight snack or maybe a nightcap. Instead, I saw Karen.
She was bundled up in a heavy knit sweater, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. She held her laptop under one arm and a stack of notebooks in the other. Her eyes met mine, and for a second, she looked like she’d found a mountain lion in the lobby.
Her thoughts were written all over her face. She was debating whether to run right back up the stairs.
“I was just about to head out,” I said, figuring I would save her the trouble. “I won’t be in your way.”
“No, don’t go.” She replied quickly, holding up her hand. “I just needed a change of scenery to finish up some work. Don’t mind me. I won’t get in your way.”
I paused for a second, then slowly sank into the chair. “You sure?”
She nodded, already making her way over to the other chair by the fire. “Yeah, really. I’ve been staring at the same four walls all day. This feels better. Cozier. Especially with no guests around.”
She dropped into the chair across from me, putting her laptop on the small table between us. The firelight flickered against her face, softening her features. She didn’t look stressed out, but I could tell something was weighing on her.
“You’re working on the books for the ranch?”
She nodded. “I’m trying.”
“How’re things looking?” I asked, knowing full well she wouldn’t be here if the ranch wasn’t having trouble.
She let out a breath, leaning back and rubbing her temples. “It’s a mess, Cassidy. I’ve crunched the numbers every which way, but…”
I could hear the tension in her voice, the frustration. I didn’t need to ask what was coming next, but I did anyway. “Let me have it.”
Karen grimaced, biting her lip as she closed her laptop. “Rocking Horse Ranch is in the red.”
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “By how much?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. I could tell she didn’t want to say it out loud. Maybe I wasn’t up high enough on the ladder. “About thirty grand,” she said.
I sucked in a breath, trying to process it. I knew Don wasn’t the best at handling money. He’d always been more of a hands-on, work-with-your-hands kind of guy. But I’d thought maybe a couple of thousand here or there, not thirty grand.
It was like hearing a terminal diagnosis. Like you knew it was bad but you didn’t know how bad. It was the kind of news that sucker punches you, even if you suspected it was coming.
“Thirty grand,” I repeated, more to myself than to her. “How the hell did it get that bad?”
Karen sighed and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “There’s more. There could be more, actually. I haven’t even gotten to all of it yet. The books are a mess. I’ve been sorting through receipts and invoices all day. I seriously thought my uncle might have been playing a joke on me. But no. It’s real. And it’s bad.”
I stared into the fire. “Shoot me.”
Karen offered a tired laugh. “You could say that again.”
I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of it all pressing down. It was worse than I thought. There was suddenly a very real possibility I could be homeless. And jobless. And family-less. “So now what?”
“Can you think of any way we might be able to dig our way out of the hole?”
“We? As in, you and me?” I asked with confusion.
Karen rolled her eyes but smiled. “You know what I meant. I’m just thinking out loud. There’s got to be something we can do. I mean, how is this place losing so much money? People still come here, don’t they?”
“Yeah, but we’re just another ranch now. Middle of the road. Median pricing. Nothing fancy, nothing special. We used to be the go-to, but now we’re safe.”
“Safe might not be enough anymore,” she muttered, more to herself than to me.
I watched the fire, letting her words sink in. She was right. Safe wasn’t enough. But what else could we do? We didn’t have the kind of cash to make big improvements, and even if we did, we’d need a lot more than that to compete with the fancier ranches popping up all over the place.
The busy season wasn’t going to be enough to generate the money to make the improvements. A long silence stretched between us, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire. I glanced at her. She was staring into the flames, lost in thought.
“Sounds like we need to rethink our approach,” Karen finally said.
I wasn’t sure if she was actually talking to me. I looked at her and waited.
“What if we stop trying to compete with those fancy ranches altogether? What if we go back to basics, promote the authenticity and rustic charm of Rocking Horse Ranch? Make it a unique experience rather than just another option?”
“That won’t be hard to do, considering we’re pretty rustic.”
“We could emphasize the traditional ranch activities—horseback riding, campfires, stargazing. Maybe even introduce some new but old-fashioned events like barn dances or storytelling nights. Make it feel like a step back in time. People might appreciate a place where they can disconnect from the modern world and reconnect with simpler joys.”
It was an appealing idea. The more I thought about it, the more it made sense. “That could actually work,” I said. “Like a cowboy camp.”
Then she sighed. “I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “It certainly sounded like a good idea.”
“I know nothing about ranches, dude or otherwise.”
“It’s all about marketing,” I said. “I’ve seen some of the ads for the other ranches. They are all fancy and pretty. All the modern conveniences. Basically, it’s like a nice hotel without the massive parking lots and city lights.”
“I’ll talk to my uncle. I don’t know if it will work. It might just be a lost cause.”
“Don’t say that.”
She looked at the fire once again. I found it odd that she was so concerned about the ranch. She hadn’t been here for years.
But it was nice she cared. And her idea wasn’t horrible. It might actually work. At least it was something. Right then, there was nothing. There was no light at the end of the tunnel.
“I saw some pictures of you in the kitchen earlier.”
I tensed, not sure where she was going with that statement. I could hear the question in her tone, but she just wasn’t saying it. “What about them?”
She must’ve sensed the shift in my tone because she hesitated. She wouldn’t look at me. “Nothing, really. Just… you looked different. Younger.”
I didn’t reply right away. Instead, I kept my eyes on the fire, my jaw tightening. Those photos were a glimpse into a different time, a different version of me. One I didn’t really want to revisit.
Karen seemed to realize she’d hit a sore spot because she shifted in her chair, standing up slowly. “I should probably call it a night. My brain is fried. I’m not going to be able to make much sense of these numbers. Sorry for keeping you. I’m sure you have to be up early.”
She picked up her laptop and started toward the stairs. I watched her go. She paused on the bottom step, looking back at me.
Our eyes met for a brief moment. I couldn’t read her expression, but there was something there, something that made my chest tighten a little. I could see she wanted to ask me something. I dared her to do it.
She thought better of it and made her way upstairs. I stared at the spot where she’d been standing for a few more seconds, then turned back to the fire. I tossed another log onto the flames, watching as the embers flared up again, lighting the room with a soft, warm glow.
I turned down the damper, hoping it would burn all night. Our guests weren’t going to appreciate a cold lobby. Another perk the newer ranches had—central heating and air.
Thirty grand wasn’t going to magically appear. We were running out of time. Winter was always the slow season, and spring wasn’t coming fast enough.
It was late, and I still had to make the trek down to the bunkhouse. I grabbed my coat and headed for the door.
There were several inches of snow. Every footstep kicked it up over my boots. My breath came out in puffs as I walked the path I couldn’t see, but I knew it was there. The barn loomed in the distance, dark and quiet, and beyond that, the bunkhouse where the rest of the ranch hands were already asleep.
I trudged through the snow with my thoughts drifting back to Karen. I couldn’t help but wonder what was going on inside that head of hers. And more than that, I wondered what it was about her that was getting under my skin.
Because she was. And I wasn’t sure how to feel about that.