3. Nash
CHAPTER 3
NASH
I t was a quiet morning, but it was almost always quiet on the ranch, so that was nothing different. Nash didn’t even have to think as he went about his morning routine. It was so ingrained in him these days that his body already knew what to do, like a well-oiled machine.
Dressed in jeans and a loose work shirt, he strode out of the house, the sun barely risen and the sky still half dark. The first task was to open the stable and let the horses out into the pasture for the day. Gadget trotted straight out of his stall, looking for adventure, while Nickel went at his own pace, as always. Tilly, who was round as a barrel from her pregnancy, stayed right where she was with a sour look on her face. Nash didn’t blame her one bit.
“Not much longer, girl,” he said, rubbing her nose. She snorted, disdainful, wanting her breakfast, and Nash didn’t blame her for that either. He dished out her pellets laced with the special vitamins and supplements to help her through her pregnancy. Not that he could really afford them, but the ranch seemed to be bleeding more money every day, so what was one more thing he couldn’t afford? He’d eat nothing but potatoes for a month if it meant that Tilly was healthy. It wasn’t the horses’ fault that they’d ended up living here. Nash pushed thoughts about possible bankruptcy to the side and got on with his chores. Meanwhile Gadget and Nickel pranced around like it was the first time they’d ever seen grass. Nash was convinced that the two geldings shared one brain cell between them.
The horses taken care of, he jumped in the truck and made his way out to the eastern pasture to check on the cattle. There weren’t many to check these days. He only had a herd of about fifty left after selling off more and more of the animals for lower and lower prices, all just to try and make a dent in some of the bills. It had kept him afloat for long enough, but now even that lifeline was wearing thin. Wandering around the field, the sun now properly awake, they all seemed happy enough. They grazed and bellowed to each other, content. Their coats were shiny, their eyes bright. If you were to just look at the conditions of the animals, you’d be forgiven for thinking that the ranch was a success. But it took just one look at the bank statements to dash that assumption.
Usually, Nash would be on his way back to the house after checking on them, back to eat his own breakfast before heading out to chip away at all of the tasks that would need to get done that day. But right now he didn’t want to go back to the house, not just yet. He just needed to sit and think for a bit, to get his head straight.
As of today he would officially be giving up trying to do all of this on his own. It left him with a strange mix of feeling guilty and feeling immensely relieved. It came in waves, which of the feelings was stronger at any given time. This morning it was definitely guilt, loud and proud, so strong that it made him feel slightly sick.
Nash sat on the hood of the truck, looking out over the pastures. There wasn’t another soul around, just him and the cattle. Every now and then, one of the animals would come up and sniff at him, begging for food like giant dogs, before wandering off again when Nash showed them empty hands. He might have had to sell off more than three-quarters of the herd, but what remained were probably the most spoiled cattle in all of Wyoming.
The morning sun warmed his face and neck, deepening the tan that covered him head to toe these days, his dark hair flopping over his eyes. He knew he was in desperate need of a haircut, but who had the time? The only part of him that refused to tan was the scar that ran through his eyebrow. It remained stubbornly silver, a permanent reminder of getting bucked off of Gadget and thrown face-first into a barbed wire fence. It made for a good story, at least.
Nash sat out there on the hood of his truck for longer than he should have. It was just so pretty ; there was no other word for it. Not one he could think of right this second anyway. He never had been the scholarly sort. “Pretty” would just have to do. Luckily it was true. The grass was such a vivid green that it looked like it was made on a computer, not something from real life, and the sky was getting bluer every second. The fields stretched off for what felt like forever, rising into hills where the old farm buildings lay abandoned, overlooking everything. It must have been a beautiful view to wake up there each morning, but his uncle had rebuilt further north when he’d had an influx of cash. Apparently, the world’s best view wasn’t as good as more modern houses and barns on flatter land.
Thinking about past generations of ranchers had Nash’s guilt flaring again, stabbing him right in the gut. This ranch had been his uncle’s pride and joy, in the family for generations. He’d left it to Nash in his will, to take care of it and keep the legacy going. Well, he’d left it to Nash and his brother, Will. But Will now lived in town with his wife and kid, working a stable job as a mechanic like a sensible person. Meanwhile, Nash had stayed here, desperate to keep the place going, to keep the ranch alive. His uncle had done it for decades on his own, and he’d been just fine. Nash had convinced himself he could do it, his unfortunate cocky streak taking over any rational business decisions.
But Nash had failed spectacularly, hadn’t he? He hadn’t felt cocky about his abilities in a very long time.
Nash rubbed his face with both hands, his stubble scratching against the calluses on his palms. He had done his best, but his best wasn’t good enough. Ever since he and Will had taken over, Uncle Keith barely in the ground, industrial farming companies had come swooping in like vultures, wanting to buy the land from under them. They were all suits and nice smiles, sending them mountains of emails and good old-fashioned letters full to the brim with a bunch of lawyer talk. Their most popular phrase was “ideal investment opportunity.” Nash kept telling them to get lost, and they would scurry away for a while. But soon enough they would come back with offers and emails, wanting to sweet talk him into selling up.
They’d won in the end, hadn’t they? You had to applaud their persistence, even if they were slimy, greedy little things. They had been patient enough to get their way in the end. It would have been easier, emotionally, at least, if it had been as simple as signing a piece of paper and handing the whole place over in one fell swoop. But that wasn’t how they did things these days, because of course it couldn’t just be as simple as that. Despite hounding him for years and trying to convince him to sell with every dirty trick in the book, now that Nash had officially reached out, the company wanted an evaluation. They wanted to know that what they were buying was actually worth all of this effort.
The whole thing was… humiliating. Maybe he was just letting his ego get in the way, but that was how it felt. Like he personally was getting investigated with a fine-tooth comb. Maybe it was because he’d poured his heart and soul into this place that it kind of was a personal evaluation. Either way, the sale wasn’t going to go ahead without someone on their books coming and personally inspecting every inch of the place. Supposedly it was some super fancy, large animal veterinarian who was also going to test everything from the fencing to the soil acidity. At first the woman on the phone, who clearly worked in an office and had no idea how rural areas actually worked, had said that this “expert” would be boarded in the nearest hotel. Nash had to explain to her that the nearest hotel was a good hour away, and there was an awkward silence after that. He’d told her the vet could board at the house. It would be easier, and he didn’t have the energy to even remotely put up a fight anymore. It wasn’t really a loss; he was never inside anyway, and he’d wrangled some free vet care out of them to boot.
Nash checked his phone. It was already past eight, late in the morning by farming standards. The expert evaluator would be showing up any minute now. It would be the polite thing to be there to greet the guy. Nash usually wouldn’t care one bit about being polite, but at the end of it all, he still wanted to get a good price. It was better to play nice and make this go as smoothly as possible. Playing nice wasn’t going to be fun, but it was going to be necessary. He pulled himself together and got in the truck, driving to the house. The short trip felt like a death march. As soon as this guy turned up, it was officially the end of an era. There was no turning back now.
Nash didn’t have to wait long. Just as he climbed out of his truck, the old engine rattling as it cooled, a newer, cleaner-looking vehicle was motoring up his driveway. Midwest Ag Solutions was emblazoned on the side door. Nash had always thought it was a stupid name for the company, considering they were now nationwide. Poor long-term planning, if you asked him. But then again, he was the one whose business was going under, so what did he know?
He waved the truck over to where his was parked, and the driver obliged. Their engine made no rattling, cooling sounds as it was turned off. Nash tried not to feel jealous. He was a twenty-nine-year-old man; he wasn’t going to feel jealous over a truck. He just wasn’t.
The person who jumped out of the company truck was a woman, her auburn ponytail swinging with the motion. Nash felt embarrassment curdling in his stomach that he’d assumed the expert was going to be a guy. At least he hadn’t said it out loud, so he could at least pretend he wasn’t a total idiot. The best he could do was to force his face into a tight-lipped smile as the woman reached into the truck and pulled a carry bag out, swinging it over her shoulder. Nash stood a good distance away, hands awkwardly hanging by his side. He almost offered to help her carry her bag, but he’d already been unintentionally sexist enough for one day. Besides, she looked like she could handle herself just fine.
Actually, the evaluator looked weirdly familiar. Had she been one of the people who came knocking on his door asking for him to sell? No, all those people were office workers and lawyer types, not people with veterinary degrees. Maybe she was in some of the company’s advertisements or something? Had he seen her smiling on a billboard somewhere? The feeling that he knew her wouldn’t fade; in fact, it kept growing like a tidal wave, itching at his brain uncomfortably.
Then she looked up. At first there was a wide smile on her face, and she was ready to say hello. As soon as she locked eyes with Nash, though, a confused look crossed her face, and the smile faded like it was dying.
Meg? Meg from high school Meg? No. It couldn’t be. But it was… Meg Whitmore, ten years older, even more freckled, which seemed impossible, and now staring at him with realization dawning on her face. Nash’s already knotted-up stomach sank even further when Meg’s realization morphed into a look of cold, piercing anger.
This wasn’t going to be a happy reunion.