Chapter 2
Iflip through the ledger, squinting to make sure I’ve read the tiny numbers right, then enter them into the spreadsheet. The bold red number in the bottom corner becomes a depressing figure by the time I’m done.
With a sigh, I open the browser window with my personal bank details pulled up. Much to my chagrin, a few zeros haven’t magically appeared since the last time I checked.
As many times as I look at it, the answer remains the same.
I’m screwed.
Even with Dawn’s personal savings that she willed to ranch operations, things are grim.
We’ve got maybe a year, max, before we’ll be so deep in the red we won’t ever be able to get out.
Maybe less, considering how slow bookings have been and the mountain of maintenance that’s been put off far too long.
I shut the laptop and release a heavy sigh as I pinch between my brows.
What on earth were you thinking, Dawn?
If she’d willed the entire ranch to me, I’d use my meager savings to work on getting things back in shape. But no, the old lady had to make decisions based on sentimentality for a granddaughter who hasn’t bothered to come see her in the almost fifteen years I’ve been working here.
I was her family more than that woman will ever be.
Tears prick my eyes, and I swipe them away with a huff.
No use feeling sorry for myself, or angry with the dead. Dawn is gone, and her decisions made.
I hope to the stars that the stubborn woman knew what she was doing. In the weeks since her sudden passing, I’ve tried to see the reason behind her choices, but every time I come up blank.
If Dawn were here, she’d laugh at my furrowed brow and tell me I need to relax and trust that things will work out. That I’m letting that overactive brain between my horns keep me from paying attention to my gut.
Optimism and intuition are fine and dandy, but they don’t keep you from getting foreclosed on. Don’t keep you from losing the only place you’ve ever called home.
Scrubbing a hand across my face, I give myself five more seconds for my pity party. Then, with a deep sigh, I set my shoulders back, and swig down the tepid remains of my coffee.
Marcie startles a little as I emerge from the cramped office behind the reception desk. She closes her latest mystery novel to turn and smile at me. “Good morning, Cal!”
I tip my chin at her. “Mornin’, Marcie.”
It’s almost 10am, and my morning started at 5, but our receptionist and housekeeper rarely starts her day any earlier than now. There’s no point when there’s only a handful of guests and no one on the books to check-in today.
“Oh, I have something for you!” Marcie takes the oversized reading glasses off of her head, the lenses giving the older human an owlish look as she searches the cluttered papers on the desk. She lets out a brief hum of triumph when she locates a scrap of torn newspaper.
“I saw it when I was checking the paper this morning for any news on when that bakery is going to open and figured it’s just what you need.
” She places the slip of paper in my palm, clasping her wrinkled hands around mine with an earnest look.
“I know you’ve taken Dawn’s passing hardest of us all…
” Her eyes grow watery and she sniffs. “You meant everything to her, and I can’t help but think this is her way of sending a little sign that she’s looking out for you. ”
I do my best to smile back, despite knowing that whatever this sweet woman has brought me won’t do shit to help me out. “Well, that’s mighty nice of you…”
She releases my hand, and I peer down at the torn newspaper. It takes everything in me to hold my snort of derision back as I read.
Capricorn: Exciting business opportunities may arise through contact with interesting new connections. Your penchant for hard work and discipline may make you reticent to leave the well-trodden path, but don’t be afraid to loosen the reins and mix things up!
“Thanks, Marcie. I’ll be sure to, uh, keep this in mind.”
She smiles and nods, pleased. “Have a good day, sugar.”
“You too.”
As soon as I’m out of sight of the desk, I crumble the paper up and shove it in my pocket to toss later. Marcie means well, but a bunch of vague nonsense isn’t going to cheer me up or fix my problems.
Nothing is going to heal the ache of loss in my chest save the passage of time.
Speaking of which, I'd better get back to it. There’s plenty to be done, and only so much daylight. I can add pondering my predicament to the lineup of thoughts racing through my mind when I’m lying in bed tonight, unable to fall asleep.
After a stop by the stables to check in with Dutch about Mystic’s sprain and to make sure the stable door I repaired last week is still holding up, I drop my mug off in the kitchen and fill up two thermoses with fresh coffee. We’re almost out of sugar, so mine tastes as bitter as my mood.
“How are the ladies this morning?” I call out as I approach the coop.
August turns around, with one of said ladies cradled in his palm. “Hmph, I see how it is. You always say hi to the chicks, but not your oldest friend.”
I chuckle and shake my head at him. “Got the old part of that right.”
Truth be told, August may be a minotaur almost fifteen years my senior, but he barely shows signs of it other than the slight greying around his snout and base of his horns.
He snorts and gives the hen in his hand a gentle pat before setting her back down. “Jessie’s ornery this morning, but I coaxed her out of it,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Glad you’re helping to improve morale. Wouldn’t want Jessie to have a bad day,” I deadpan, passing him the thermos I brought him.
He ignores my sarcasm and takes the mug with a grateful nod.
After he takes a sip, he rolls his shoulders like he’s working out some stiffness.
Probably from how he’s always stooping over to pet the chickens and goats.
“Thanks for the pick me up. Good you stopped by. Remy and Wylie said they saw Doodle out by the road on their way in.”
I groan. “Stars above, how? I checked the fence for holes yesterday!”
This is the third time in the same number of days that the damn rooster has gotten out.
“Don’t know.” August shrugs. “I checked myself, but everything looked fine.”
“Damn escape artist pain in my ass. Gonna cook him up for dinner one of these days,” I mutter, taking a swig from my thermos and grimacing.
My friend chuckles and claps a hand on my shoulder. “No, you’re not. Even if we could eat meat without getting sick, you’d protect that bird with your life.”
A lump forms in my throat as the memory of Dawn cradling Doodle in her arms, eyes crinkling with delight as he fussed with her long gray braid and made little happy murmurs, fills my mind.
He’s right. Dawn loved that damn bird, and therefore, I will take care of him. Even though he’s turned into a devil lately, pecking me when I get near him and apparently figuring out how to teleport out of his pen.
I let out a deep sigh. “Fine, I’ll go look for him.” And when I get back from my wild rooster chase, I’m gonna have a word with Wylie and Remy about why they didn’t see fit to grab him when they noticed him out by the road in the first place.
August grabs a wire cage we’ve designated for Doodle transport and passes it to me. “Good luck. Remember, he likes to go for the eyes.”
I let out a muttered curse that makes August chuckle. He wouldn’t be laughing if he were the one who almost got his eyes clawed out trying to wrangle Doodle back to the coop.
It’d be faster to take my truck up to the main road, but I could stand to go for a trail ride on the way and check the state of things, so I head back to the stables and saddle up Astra.
She huffs at me, getting a big glob of horse slobber on my sleeve, clearly mad that I haven’t had much time to spend with her lately.
“I know, darlin’, I know,” I murmur, hoping to appease her with a few treats. She begrudgingly accepts them, but I can tell I’m still on her shit list. “Once I figure out how to untangle the mess Miss Dawn left, I’ll have more time for you.”
Astra huffs again, either not believing that I’ll spend time with her, or that I’ll figure out how to sort things out. Probably both.
We take the long way up to the main road, past the cabins we closed off two winters ago with plans to refurbish them that never came to fruition.
Then past the archery range where Dawn used to teach guests how to shoot before the arthritis in her hands got too bad.
As we head up along the creek, I notice more of the fencing got knocked down by a recent storm.
It’s all a damn mess.
Still, it’s nice to be back on Astra, sun dappling the path through the trees and birds chirping.
Spring is approaching, and with it, renewal. One can only hope that it signals the same growth and return to life for the ranch.
I’m bolstered by that unusually optimistic thought for all of two minutes, because when I approach the spot where the trail merges with the road to the main buildings, I find destruction.
“What the...”
A car crashed into our sign.
There’s no other vehicles in sight, no indication of what caused this beat-up yellow sedan to careen off the road and directly into the post holding the “Taurus Ranch” sign. Did the driver pass out? Are they injured?
I have Astra pick up the pace, my stomach knotting in worry. Please let whoever was in the car be okay.
When I get closer, and have a better angle on the scene, my brow furrows.
There’s a human woman crouched down beside the car, ass raised in the air as she peers underneath the vehicle.
“Get out from under there!” she shouts. “Come on, man, I don’t want you to get hurt. Stupid cock, what the hell are you even doing out here?” She pulls her hand back with a squeal. “Ah, stop it, I’m trying to help you!”
It takes me a moment to realize that I’m staring directly at her pert, denim-clad posterior rather than doing anything to help. But between the damage to the sign and the fact that we’re about to get sued for rooster negligence causing her crash, my brain has short-circuited.
I could turn around. Head back the way I came, and pretend I didn’t stumble on this. Pretend I’ve never seen that damn rooster before in my life.
Of course, I won’t. I can’t leave this poor woman out here at risk of Doodle causing more damage.
I curse under my breath and hop down off Astra, grabbing the cage attached to her saddle.
The woman doesn’t notice my approach, so I clear my throat. “Need some help?”
A shriek of surprise erupts from her, and as she turns to look at me, her sandal slips in the mud, sending her sprawling onto her back.
“Ow, fuck, ow,” she groans.
Her eyes widen as I approach to offer her a hand.
When I get a better look at her face, mine do the same. Her face looks familiar, especially around the mouth and nose.
Dammit, looks like my time to make a plan of action has run out.
The prodigal granddaughter has arrived.