Chapter 4
Liz
The hammer slips from my hand for the third time this afternoon, and it’s not because of the sweat.
It’s because of her. Because of how she headed off to Alamogordo a while ago in those city clothes that make no sense out here.
Because that Michelle showed up, kicking up dust with that Tesla.
Because she was laughing with her. The first real laugh since she arrived.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath when I misstrike and bend another nail.
This afternoon, the heat is unbearable, though I prefer it to being inside the house, where everything smells like Rosa and that damn will she signed without asking me.
Sixty days. As if two months were enough for her granddaughter to understand what the soul of this ranch means.
As if I hadn’t spent my whole life getting ready to take it over.
The south fence is a total disaster. Each post is more rotten than the last, but there’s no budget to replace the whole thing. “It’ll have to make it through the winter with patchwork, and then we’ll see,” Rosa told me a few days before she died.
“It will have to hold, Rosa,” I murmur to myself. “And your granddaughter is out eating lobster while I tear up my hands fixing what she’ll sell in two months.”
I wipe the sweat with the back of my hand, trying not to think about that Michelle, promising magic fixes to all the ranch’s problems.
“As if we didn’t know magic fixes always come with a price,” I growl to the wind.
A jackrabbit darts across a few yards from me. In a few months, it won’t even have anywhere to run, because they’ll turn all this into golf courses and a hotel complex. We won’t be the first, and we won’t be the last.
“Fuck! What a load of crap!” I protest, slapping the wood.
“Abusing fences?” Alba asks, giving me that smile of ‘something’s wrong with you, and I’m not stopping until you tell me.’
“We’ve got a horse with tendonitis and a mare about to foal. I’m not the one who needs a vet,” I complain.
Alba sighs and sits beside me on the ground. I want to say something, but her company calms me. It always has. I guess it’s something only real friends can do, the ones who’ve seen you at your worst and are still there for you.
“Are you going to tell me what happened, or do I need to pull it out with tweezers?”
“Nothing happened.”
“Sure. That’s why you’re out here destroying a fence instead of on the porch in the shade with a cold beer. It’s Sunday, Liz,” she reminds me, raising her eyebrows.
“Let’s go check on the mare. That’s what I’m most worried about,” I suggest.
“Is this about Camila?”
“A woman named Michelle came by. Mrs. Henderson overheard them making plans to sell all this, and now they’re having dinner in Alamogordo.”
“And?”
“And nothing. She’s free to do whatever she wants if she manages to last two months and inherit her grandmother’s ranch.”
“Do you still like her? I thought you’d put that behind you years ago.”
“Don’t talk bullshit,” I growl, rolling my eyes and clicking my tongue as we walk toward the stables.
“It’s not bullshit, and you know it. The question is what you’re going to do about it,” she presses.
“I’m not doing anything. Years ago she made it very clear I wasn’t enough for her and took off without looking back. She had her fun for a summer, and that was that. In fifty-three days she’ll take off again to Chicago, sell the ranch, and we’ll all be out of work. It’s that simple.”
“And that sucks,” she adds,under her breath.
“Alba, you know half these families have lived here for generations. We were born on this land; we learned to work it when we were just kids. Now... now everything could go to hell over a stupid clause in Rosa’s will.
I can’t sleep at night. The whole staff expects me to stop it; they even suggest we make her life impossible so she’ll leave, but. ..”
“But you’d never do something like that,” she finishes for me.
“Exactly,” I huff. “And even less so knowing it’s what Rosa wanted, even if I don’t agree.”
“Your sister told me you’re not even going to enter the La Luz rodeo next month. Are you really that bad?”
I don’t need to answer, at least not with words. I drop my gaze, and Alba gets it. She’s always gotten me, since we were kids.
***
Her car’s headlights sweep across the porch when I’m on my third beer. It’s nearly midnight, and I should be asleep, but I can’t.
She hops out of the car, practically skipping with happiness. Even in the dark, I can see her eyes shining with that energy that only comes from ideas you love or impossible promises.
“You’re still up?” she asks, checking her watch, as if it weren’t obvious I’m standing right in front of her.
“You too,” I say. “Have you already sold the ranch?”
“At no point did I say I’m going to sell the ranch. I’m just looking at options,” she admits, dropping her voice like a kid caught cheating on a test.
“Yeah, right.”
“Just so you know, we’ve been talking about maybe putting solar panels on part of the land we don’t use and...”
“What a load of crap,” I cut her off before taking a swig of my beer.
“A load of crap? In case you haven’t heard, there’s this thing called progress, Liz. The world moves on while you’re stuck in a way of life that hasn’t changed in forever.”
“And where would the cattle graze?”
“There’s plenty of room. Michelle says that with the right configuration...”
“I’m sure Michelle says plenty of things,” I growl. “Did she also tell you how much the upfront investment would cost? Or how many years it would take us to get it back? Because I know you’ve been looking at your grandmother’s books, so I’m assuming you’re fully aware we don’t have much money.”
“That’s exactly the point. It’s a long-term investment; we can modernize the ranch by selling a piece. Plus, there are grants, special loans for that kind of project...”
“Yeah, more debt,” I protest, setting the bottle down on the table harder than I need to. “Just what we need.”
“It’s not just that,” she lowers her voice, as if she wants to say the next line carefully. “We also talked about tourism potential. A high-end but sustainable resort. You know, eco-friendly. Luxury cabins that blend into the landscape, yoga retreats, authentic Western experiences...”
“Authentic experiences? Like what? Bringing city tourists to watch real cowboys work? Cows strolling past the pool while they sip mojitos? Is that what you want for your grandmother’s ranch?”
“Don’t be like that.”
“Like what? Realistic?”
“Come on, Liz. We’re talking environmental leadership. Resource optimization. The ranch could be an example for others, show that ranching and sustainability can coexist with a tourism model that respects the area and its traditions.”
“This ranch was operating for generations before your grandmother bought it,” I remind her.
“That’s the problem. Times have changed.
Now it barely keeps the lights on. You think you’re fighting for the jobs of the families who live here, but you’re only making their long-term prospects worse.
Any dip in cattle prices and everything goes to hell.
We have to diversify and modernize. Rosa knew it.
That’s why she put that clause in her will, so I’d better understand the ranch’s needs. ”
The mention of Rosa makes my blood boil, and I can’t help slamming a fist into the table.
“Rosa left it to you because you’re her only granddaughter, not because you have the faintest idea what a fucking ranch is,” I protest.
“Rosa knew you’d cling to every rock and every rotten post until everything went to hell, and you’d drag all the workers down with you,” she replies, raising her voice.
“You know what? You’re right. Time for me to go to bed. I’m sure that Michelle has all the answers we need. Go on, turn this place into a fucking theme park. I mean, what does it matter?”
“That’s not what...”
“Isn’t it? Do you know how many families depend on this ranch?
” I cut her off, my voice rising too, and I notice the Hendersons’ light has come on.
“The Hernández family has been here since 1892. Four whole generations born in that house over there. The fifth generation is almost ready to start working. The Martínez, the Ochoas, the Sandovals... What the hell do I tell them? That I’m sorry, but some solar panels are more important than their jobs? ”
“There’d be jobs at the resort. It would create wealth for the area.”
“We’re cowboys, Camila. It’s a way of life, not a fucking job,” I shout, slapping the porch with my palm.
“This ranch is our home, our family, everything we have. We’ve worked from sunup to sundown, we were born on this land and bled on it.
Fuck, every year I bury horses I’ve cared for since they were foals.
I’ve pulled dead calves from their mothers’ bellies at three in the morning.
I’ve watched whole families cry with joy over a good season and also in despair over a drought.
Every fence, every building, every damn tree has a story.
But of course, to you it means nothing.”
“That’s not fair...”
“No, it isn’t fair, but for us. You know what’s really not fair?
That Rosa died believing this ranch would be safe in your hands.
But I’m guessing you’ve already run the numbers with Michelle, right?
You’ve already figured out what each family is worth; you’ve already put a price on every piece of history in this place. ”
“If you’d at least listen...”
“You already let me down once, Camila. You used me for a summer and left me like I was nothing. I know damn well I can’t trust you,” I huff, leaving her alone on the porch.
I head up to my room and hear the Hendersons awake. Tomorrow they’ll be up before dawn, the same as they’ve done for the last sixty years. Their son Diego will help with the cattle, she’ll make breakfast. The same routine every day, always, and that’s what Camila doesn’t get.
Or maybe she does get it and just doesn’t care.