Chapter 45
Forty-Five
THE WORD—FAMILY—HAUNTS ME OUT THE DOOR.
KINSLEY
I've never quit anything in my life.
But they say there’s a first time for everything so I’m walking up to the main house with a resignation letter in my hand. I tried and I can’t find a way forward out of this mess. Martinez was the way out—now he’s nothing but a roadblock, better yet, a road closed.
Sarah’s at the kitchen table, surrounded by ranch papers and her open laptop. The morning light catches the reading glasses perched on her nose, and she looks so calm that I wonder if she’s real.
I walk in and sit down across from her without a word. I set the letter down on the table. I printed it on my thick, fancy paper out of respect for her. It seemed like a good idea at three in the morning. I slide it across to her with hands that shake despite my best efforts to keep them steady.
I don’t have words. I mean, I plan to apologize but that’ll come after she acknowledges that I’ve failed worse than either of us could have foreseen.
Sarah glances down, her expression unchanging. She reads the first couple of lines, and I hold my breath.
She looks up. "I do not accept your resignation."
I blink. Wait. "What?"
"I said no." She pushes the letter back toward me like it's a bill she's refusing to pay.
"You can't just—" I shake my head, frustration bubbling up through the exhaustion. I don’t have any fight left in me. I’m a shell.
An empty, hollow, shell. "Sarah—why not?
" The idea of going home to my mother and that apartment above the barn sits like sour milk on my stomach.
As bad as that would be, staying here hurts more.
"Because the job's not done." Her voice is matter-of-fact. "We still have two more weeks before the deadline, and if we're going to make anything happen, I need you here."
I want to roll my eyes. I want to tell her that she’s delusional.
I want to tell her that Senator Martinez is blackmailing Wyatt into marrying Brittney and that I told him to.
I want to tell her that this will all go away as soon as he says I do.
But I can’t. Because even though we aren’t together, I can’t break his confidence.
"I failed," I say instead, my voice cracking on the word.
"My idea was a disaster. Your family is in a more precarious situation than you were before I ever got here.
The senator—" I can't even finish the sentence.
The memory of Martinez's threats, Brittney's smug smile, Wyatt's face when I told him to marry her—it all crashes over me again.
Sarah shakes her head. "I disagree."
"You’re just being nice." I give her a weak smile.
She shakes her head at me. "I made more contacts last night than I have in five years," she says, her tone firm but not unkind.
"I've found allies I didn't know existed.” She leans forward, holding my gaze.
"I've never felt like I was in a stronger position to fight something like this. And that's because of you, Kinsley."
Tears prick at my eyes and I look away, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat.
The kitchen door swings open and Grandpa walks in, his weathered face set in lines that suggest he's been listening longer than we realized. He pours himself coffee from the pot on the counter, moving with the deliberate slowness of a man who's earned the right to take his time.
"You thinking about quitting on us, Miss Rose?" he asks as he leans against the counter and crosses one ankle over the other.
Heat rises in my cheeks. "I don't think I have any other choice."
He drops a casual swear word that tells me exactly what he thinks about that. "You don't quit fighting until you're dead." He takes a sip of coffee, his eyes never leaving my face.
"But I—"
"No buts." He looks at Sarah, then back at me. “If Sarah says she needs you then that’s that.” He drains his coffee and pushes off the counter.
“I'll give your horse that fancy grain she likes.
" A smile tugs at his lips. “I think she’s taken a liking to me.” The door swings shut behind him, leaving silence in his wake.
I stare at the table. My hand goes to the necklace at my throat—the one I should take off but can't seem to let go of.
Sarah sees the movement. Her expression softens in a way that makes the tears harder to hold back.
"I've been trying to stay out of things between you and Wyatt," she says quietly, "because I don't want to interfere and he's not one to take my advice.
" She reaches across the table and covers my hand with hers.
"But no matter what happens with the two of you, Kinsley, I want you to know that having you here has been a good thing for our family. It's been good for me."
The dam breaks. Tears spill over and I swipe at them with my free hand, giving a self-deprecating laugh that sounds more like a sob. "Sorry. I can’t seem to stop.”
Sarah pats my hand comfortingly. "If my son doesn't come to his senses, I might knock some sense into him."
I laugh at her phrasing—the image of Sarah Halloway taking Wyatt to task is almost enough to lighten the weight on my chest. But the laughter fades quickly because I know the truth she doesn't: it's not going to happen.
I told Wyatt to marry Brittney. I pushed him toward a future that doesn't include me for a hundred reasons that I try to use as bandages, but they don’t stick.
I take a shaky breath and meet Sarah's eyes.
"I will see this through until the deadline," I promise, and I mean it even though it feels like agreeing to my own slow torture.
Everything about this place reminds me of Wyatt—the view from the porch where we watched the sunset, the barn where we talked about life, the land that runs through his veins the way my mother's disappointment runs through mine.
"Or until Wyatt comes home, whichever is later." My voice drops. "But I can't be here on the ranch at the same time he is. So, when he comes back, I have to go."
Sarah studies me for a long moment, and I can see her weighing whether to argue. Finally, she nods. "All right.” She picks up my resignation letter and tears it in half.
I wipe my eyes again.
Sarah slides a legal pad and a pen across the table to me. "Where do you want to start?”
I struggle to haul my brain out of the manure pile and back on solid ground.
Even if Wyatt marrying Brittney takes care of this threat, moving the ranch into a stronger position will fortify it.
And I will leave this place better off than before I got here, which is good for the one thing I have left: my career.
“Let’s start by listing our new contacts, their interests and what we can do for them.” I uncap a pen. "Walk me through everyone you talked to last night before things went sideways."
"County Commissioner Jenkins was interested in forming a coalition of ranchers facing similar federal overreach. He gave me three more names to contact."
I write quickly. “I can offer to organize the group and set things in motion.” Half of the effort is going through the motions of figuring out how a group like that is supposed to function.
I’ve seen dozens of them and can offer consulting during the process.
Once they have a leader in place, I can step back and let them run things.
I swallow the lump in my throat. I don’t think it’s going away anytime soon so I’ll have to figure out how to work around it.
"Mary Gonzalez—the woman with the amazing hat with the lace. Did you see her?” Sarah gestures to her head.
I nod. “Custom made. I think everyone there asked her about it.” I’d planned to contact the designer and have one made for the NFR. Now that I won’t be going with Wyatt, there’s no point. I draw in a shaky breath and stare at the paper.
“She is someone high up in the National Teens Rodeo Association and offered to organize a letter-writing campaign. The kids might not be able to vote but their parents can and this could be big.”
My pen flies across the page. "That would be great.” My words are as flat as my heart. If someone took a picture of it right now it would look like a deflated balloon. But I’m writing. I’m speaking. I’m not curled up on my bed with a cup of tea and a box of tissues.
We make a list. Despite everything, I feel something like purpose returning.
“Oh,” my pen pauses as a memory hits me. “Susan Lockwood—the lawyer from Billings— offered to review our legal options pro bono."
Sarah looks up, surprise flickering across her face. "Susan Lockwood offered free legal work?"
"Yeah,” I reply. The name isn’t clicking for me, but it means something to Sarah. “Do you know her?”
Sits taller and says primly. "She dated Maxwell Whitmore shortly after his wife Maria passed away.”
I stare at her as if she’s just said that the table was made of crackers. “Maxwell had a girlfriend?” I wrinkle my nose thinking of the cold look in his eyes before he collapsed. “Ew.”
Sarah snorts but manages to maintain her composure.
"How is he?" I ask, feeling a little guilty about what I just said. I don't like Maxwell Whitmore, but watching someone collapse isn't something you forget easily.
"I heard he's not dead," Sarah shrugs.
"Did they take him to the hospital?"
"Not that I know of."
"How strange." I tap my pen on the table. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.” The way Ford stepped in and hauled him up–it was almost like he half expected something like this to happen.
“Whitmores keep to themselves.” Sarah shrugs. “What happens at Gritstone Ranch stays at Gritstone Ranch.”
An hour passes, maybe more. The coffee pot empties and Sarah makes another. The legal pad fills with names, action items, deadlines. By the time we finish, I have a list of things to do that should keep me busy enough to stay out of the hole my heart dug.
Sarah sets down her pen and stretches, rolling her shoulders. "You need to get out of this house. Clear your head."
I gather my things. “I’ll be in the cottage if you need me.”
"You should go for a ride," she says firmly. "I'm offering you Ace."
I blink, caught off guard. Half-standing, half-sitting. "That’s Wyatt's horse."
"I know it's his horse," she says, holding up her hands, "but he has a big heart and has had quite a few discussions with me over the years."
"With you?" I ask, unable to hide my surprise.
She grins, and for a moment I can see the young woman she must have been—fierce and joyful and unafraid.
"Who do you think keeps him in shape when Wyatt's not here?
That horse needs exercise and attention, and I've been riding him since he was green broke.
" Her expression softens. "He's a good listener.
Better than most people, actually. And he won't judge you if you need to cry or scream or just be quiet for a while. "
The idea of riding—of being out on the land with nothing but sky and wind and a horse who won't ask questions I can't answer—suddenly feels like the only thing that might keep me from falling apart completely. But being that close to Wyatt, riding his horse—I don’t know if I can.
"Thank you for the offer.” I whisper. “I’ll think about it."
Sarah reaches across the table and squeezes my hand one more time. "We're going to get through this, Kinsley. All of it. Together."
I want to believe her. I carry my coffee cup to the sink before I head for the door, pausing with my hand on the frame. "Sarah? Thank you. For not letting me quit."
She looks up, and her smile carries a warmth that makes my chest ache. "That's what family does, honey. We don't let each other give up."
The word—family—haunts me out the door. Sarah may feel that way about me, but my heart is too flat to accept it.