Chapter 2
TRENT
Months later…
Summer in Texas was hell boiled over, microwaved until burned to a crisp, and then shoved under a broiler just for the fun of it.
Sweat trickled down my back. I leaned against a fence post, wiped my brow, and looked out at the ranch. The hills on the horizon shimmered, the air thick enough to chew.
Out in the pasture, my crew bounced along in an old truck, following a herd of sleek black heifers and their spring calves.
“How many heads?” I called out.
Colby, my foreman sitting nearby, lifted a hand to block out the sun and flashed me a grin. “Four thousand and seven.”
I let out a long, slow breath, relief spinning through me. Four thousand and seven. Thank Fuck.
Colby’s grin widened. “Every damn one of ‘em is looking good, boss.”
I smiled and tugged my hat lower to hide my obvious relief. I couldn’t have my guys thinking that I’d had doubts about how this season was going to go.
After three years of trial and error, early mornings, too many nights sleeping in the damn barn, the breeding program had finally worked. This spring, every calf had made it. Every bull and heifer from last year’s cohort was strong and healthy.
Offering prime meat and perfect genetics, these cows weren’t just any herd. They were the best and they were mine.
My bloodline. My risk. My work.
Ranchers from across the country and even a few overseas were calling, offering me money, land, or partnerships. All of them wanted a piece of what I’d built.
Not gonna happen. Not yet, anyway.
This was the first year the program had proven itself and I wasn’t about to hand it over. Not until I was damn sure it would stand the test of time.
“It was a good year,” Colby said, squinting at the pasture with one of his feet kicked up on the fencepost.
“Best I’ve had,” I admitted. “It was about dang time, too.”
Colby chuckled. “True that. Are you coming back this fall?”
“Yeah.” I nodded automatically, though my mind was already somewhere else as I kicked off the fence. “I’ll be here.”
The sun was dipping low, painting the land in copper and gold. From up here, I could see most of my spread, a thousand acres of pasture with fences running like veins across the land. My slice of the Shepard empire.
One day, when my dad kicked the bucket, it would all be mine, but that could be twenty more years. Thirty. The man was built of iron and sheer stubbornness.
For now, this piece was mine to run. My start. I kept telling myself it was enough. That I had time, but when I went back to the house I’d built on my slice of the land, the cicadas had started their evening chorus and that clock in my brain started ticking.
My brand new massive stone mansion rose up from the earth like it had something to prove. I had designed it myself. Nine bedrooms. Twelve bathrooms. A master suite the size of a three-bedroom apartment in downtown Dallas. A nursery right next to it just in case.
I stepped inside. As soon as my boots echoed on the polished floors, that familiar emptiness rolled through me. Every light on the first floor flicked on automatically, illuminating nothing but expensive furniture and silence.
Standing in the middle of the living room, I stared up at the vaulted ceiling, wondering what the hell I’d been thinking when I’d approved the blueprints. At the time, it had felt right. A big house for big dreams. A place to grow into.
Now that it was finished though, it just felt hollow. All this space only for me. It seemed like such a waste.
I dropped my hat on the table and unbuttoned my shirt. The faint smell of dust, sun, and cattle clung to me, and there was no one around to care. For a man who had everything, I’d never felt the weight of nothing quite like I did these days.
My phone rang, a sharp, piercing sound slicing through the silence. I ran my fingers through my hair, already knowing who it was before I’d even slid it out of my pocket. I answered on the third ring.
“Hey, Mom.” I let out a silent sigh as I strode to the stairs. “What’s up?”
“Are you still coming up to the lodge for dinner?”
The lodge. The old family house where I’d grown up and where the ceiling beams still creaked in all the familiar ways. Nothing had really changed over there. Nothing except for me.
“Yeah,” I said finally. “Just need to grab a shower. I’ll be there in twenty.”
After dinner, I sat at the long table finishing a drink with Dad, the amber liquid in our glasses catching the light. It had been just the three of us tonight, at a table that could fit fourteen.
I didn’t know why this stuff was suddenly bothering me so much, but I kind of wished my sister and her brood of kids could be here. With Jameson and maybe even Sterling and his family. But they were all the way back in San Francisco.
All the chaos was over there while we had all the quiet. I should’ve liked it this way, but I couldn’t even bring myself to feel pride as Dad listened to me lay out the year’s results.
As I explained that the breeding program was finally paying off, his expression was stony.
Not even as enthusiastic as mine, and mine wasn’t enthusiastic at all.
It should have been, though. This was worth so much more than a conversation piece for cocktail parties, but Tiberius Sr. had always viewed this side of the ranch as recreational, something to brag about to his wealthy friends.
It had been fine that he’d seen it that way. Until it wasn’t.
Back when I’d first wanted to start the program, I’d argued numbers, genetics, and market reach. He’d simply nodded once or twice, his mind already wandering back to polo matches or corporate dinners.
Despite this recent success, it didn’t look like he was paying that much more attention to it now. Meanwhile, I just felt weirdly in limbo.
Mom appeared a moment later with a whole cake balanced on a silver platter. I didn’t even glance at it. Neither Dad nor I had a sweet tooth.
She placed it gently on the table with her eyes flicking between us, hopeful. “Just in case either of my boys decide they’d like to take a walk on the sweeter side tonight.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said, smiling at her, but I didn’t bother pretending to be interested in the cake. “Maybe later.”
I leaned back in my chair, stretching my legs under the table while I waited for her next question. It was inevitable since she’d walked in on us talking about the breeding program.
“Are you still going to be running the business out of Chicago?” she asked finally.
And there it is. “Yeah, I am.”
Her brow furrowed. We’d been through this before, but Mom refused to get it.
It wasn’t because she didn’t understand it from a business perspective.
She did. Mom might never have pursued any kind of business herself other than the business of being a socialite, but she was sharp as a tack, and when she had gotten involved in a venture or two over the years, her ideas had been amazing.
She’d simply decided to not support this. To not get it. “Why Chicago? Why not Dallas? Or Oklahoma City? Chicago is so far from here.”
I picked up my glass and swirled the last of the liquid around in it. “It’s not just about the south, Mom. My meat will be all over the country. Not just here. There’s interest on the west coast too. Chicago is right in the middle of it all. Distribution-wise, it makes sense.”
Mom didn’t say anything right away, just tilting her head and studying me as if she was trying to figure out whether I was joking.
“I know it’s far, but it’s the right move,” I explained. “For the business, for the genetics, and for the growth of our brand. It’s strategic.”
Besides, I already had an office set up in Chicago. A few employees, a handful of executives in sales, and a small army of contractors doing the legwork. I didn’t need to be there every day and it was already making me a shitload of money, but Mom and Dad wanted me here.
On the ranch. In Texas. Preferably knocking out a son or six to carry on not just the name Tiberius Shepard but the family line. I didn’t argue.
I knew how that game worked. Sadie’s herd of kids didn’t count. They were Westwoods, not Shepards.
In reality, I could’ve put an office anywhere. Oklahoma City would’ve been strategic too. Prime commerce, trucking hubs, and easy access to suppliers, but I’d wanted to get away. It was time.
But when I’d looked at the map, there hadn’t been as many viable options as I might’ve liked.
I hated New York with a fiery passion. Sadie had staked her claim on California as a whole.
Dallas was too small and I’d burned enough bridges here over the years to know better than to compete with every other rancher.
Chicago, however, was perfect. It was exactly what I needed to sharpen my claws as a businessman in a city that required brains, connections, and a little bit of charm.
Plus, I knew people there.
More Westwoods, of course.
Alexander Westwood, to be exact. Probably my closest friend aside from Jameson. Alex had the connections and the network I needed if I was going to make it in that market. And more importantly, he was investing heavily in my breeding program.
That kind of trust didn’t come cheap or easy, but I still appeased my mom with the obligatory news she wanted to hear. “It’s not forever. One day, I’ll settle down. Find a wife. Fill the many bedrooms in my house.”
My massive, unused house. One day, I would make good on all those promises, but not today.
For now, I had a flight to catch. Chicago had been operating without me for three months and the business wasn’t going to wait while I twiddled my thumbs in Texas.
It was booming. I had to go and make sure it stayed that way.
“I’m going to hold you to that, Tiberius.”
I almost flinched. She only used my given name when she was about seven seconds away from wanting to cut my balls off. Not that dad would let her. I needed those to give him six or seven grandsons, all of whom would bear his name if I would allow it.
At least Mom seemed satisfied. She finally walked away, the heels of her boots clicking down the hall as she left me alone with Dad.
When he turned back to me, his expression was serious and his fingers drummed against the wood, much more attentive now that we were done talking about the program. Go figure.
He leveled me with a somber stare, his glass hanging from his fingertips as he looked me over. “Are you serious about this ranch, Trent, or is Chicago just another city for you to fuck your way through?”
Of course, he’s only ever cared about the family name. I met his gaze steadily, about to tell him that it didn’t get much more serious about the ranch than what I was doing, but that seemed to have been a rhetorical question because he wasn’t done yet.
“You need to get your shit together and grow up. I can pull this ranch out from underneath you at any time and leave it all to Sadie. She’d cuddle the cows and name the calves or sell it all off, but either way, it won’t be yours.”