Chapter 4 – Starcrest’s Glare
Max
The sun wasn’t even all the way up, and already the cold bit through my boots. Duke and I were ankle-deep in frozen mud, the kind that sucked at your soles with every step.
He trotted beside me like he had all the energy in the world, tongue out, tail high, while I grumbled under my breath and tugged my collar tighter against the wind.
“City girls and lost causes,” I muttered. “That’s what we’re dealing with now.”
Duke gave me a sidelong glance like he didn’t entirely disagree.
“She walks in like she’s got a plan. Like this place ain’t hanging by a thread.” I kicked a chunk of ice off the step and shoved the barn door open.
“What’s she gonna do—redecorate the barn and sell gingerbread cookies out front?”
Duke snorted. Or maybe sneezed. Either way, it sounded suspiciously like judgment, and I glared down at him, though it did no good.
I grabbed the feed bucket and dumped it into the trough, the cold metal clanging louder than I liked. The sound startled a nearby heifer, who tossed her head and trotted back a few feet.
The east gate latch had frozen up again. I bent down, pried it loose with a pocket knife, and tried not to think about how I’d been meaning to fix it properly for three weeks.
Like a dozen other things I’d meant to fix, each one a nagging reminder of all the battles I was losing: the cracked window in the bunkhouse, the generator that needed a new belt, the leaky trough in pasture three.
“She’s not gonna stick around,” I told Duke, kicking at a frozen clod of dirt.
“She’ll see what this place really is, and she’ll run for the hills. They always do.” Except… she hadn’t yet. And that was the problem.
As I heaved the last of the feed into the bin, my mind wandered to her grandfather—my mentor, my second chance. I could almost hear his voice echoing from the barn rafters, gruff and steady. Hold the line, Max. Even when it gets hard.
He used to talk about the legacy of Starcrest like it was a living thing. Said land remembered kindness and hard work. I wondered what he’d think now. If he’d made a mistake leaving it to her. Or if I was the one screwing it up, failing him and Starcrest in the process.
By the time I was done stacking frozen feed bags, the morning had settled into a dull gray hush. I gave Duke a quick pat and climbed into the truck, more out of habit than anything else.
It wasn’t until I hit the edge of town that I realized I was driving to the bakery.
***
The scent of cinnamon rolls and warm bread hit me like a memory the second I stepped inside Clarkson’s Bakery. A little bell chimed above the door, and Sarah glanced up from behind the counter, her cheeks dusted in flour. Her smile was warm, knowing.
“Well, well. Max Carter before eight o’clock. Must be serious.”
I took off my hat and rubbed the back of my neck. “Just need something hot. And strong.”
“You want coffee, go to Hank’s. If you want comfort, you came to the right place.” She handed me a steaming mug and slid a plate of cinnamon twists my way. “Rough morning?”
I shrugged, then added under my breath, “She’s already rearranging furniture.”
Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Ella?”
I didn’t answer, which was answer enough.
“She seems sweet. Smart, too. Not afraid to get her boots dirty.”
“Boots are still too clean,” I said, sipping my coffee.
Sarah chuckled and leaned on the counter. “You know, your face is gonna stick like that if you keep scowling at everyone.”
“I’m not scowling.”
“You’re always scowling.”
I shook my head, but the corner of my mouth twitched. “It’s just… this place was supposed to go to someone who cared about it.”
“She might,” Sarah said gently. “Give her a chance.”
I didn’t reply. Not because I disagreed, but because I wasn’t sure how much time we had for second chances.
She poured me a refill and dropped her voice. “You’re not still trying to carry all this alone, are you?”
I gave her a sidelong look. “Who else is gonna do it?”
Sarah’s eyes softened. “You don’t have to burn yourself down to keep Starcrest warm, Max.”
Before I could answer, the front door opened and a couple of ranch hands from out near Crystal Bend walked in, stomping snow off their boots and chatting about cattle feed and road closures. One of them—Steve—lowered his voice, and my ears perked up.
“...developer’s already sniffing around the Henderson place. Word is if it folds, they’ll buy it up and start pouring concrete before the frost thaws.”
I stiffened, my hand freezing around the warm mug. The casual cruelty of their words, spoken over a pastry case, struck me harder than any formal notice.
“They already bought out that old spread down near Silverton,” the other added. “Next up’s Starcrest, if it goes under.”
My grip on the coffee mug tightened.
Sarah must’ve noticed. She reached across the counter and touched my hand. “Max. Don’t let rumors rattle you.”
But they weren’t rumors. Not really. Not when the numbers on the last bank notice were burned into my memory.
I took a slow breath, nodded at Sarah, and stepped out into the cold. Duke met me by the truck, tail thumping in the snow.
“You hear that?” I asked him. “Developers.”
He licked my glove.
I climbed in and turned the key. The truck rumbled to life with a groan.
As I drove, I caught glimpses of the town gearing up for the season. Wreaths hung on lampposts, lights wound through fences, a couple of kids tossed snowballs outside the diner.
It was quiet. Still beautiful. And it wouldn’t last if the wrong people took over—not just for Starcrest, but for every small business, every family that relied on this town's beating heart.
I didn’t make it two blocks before I saw Sheriff Harris’s cruiser parked near the feed store. He rolled down his window when I pulled up.
“Mornin’, Max.”
“Mornin’, Sheriff.”
He nodded toward the passenger seat. “You heading back out to Starcrest?”
“Yeah.”
He scratched his jaw. “Just came from the bank. Thought you oughta know—they’ve moved the timeline up. Two weeks.”
I blinked. “Two weeks? What?” The words came out sharper than I intended, my chest suddenly tight.
“They’re sending someone out before Christmas. Said they need to ‘evaluate options.’”
My jaw clenched. “That’s not enough time.”
“I know.” His voice was steady. “But it’s what you’ve got.”
He gave me a long look. “Don’t wait too long to tell her, Max. I’ve seen what happens when places like Starcrest don’t have a fighter in the ring.”
I nodded once, then drove off, Duke leaning against my leg like he could feel the weight of it too.
Two weeks. That’s all we had before the heart of this place got carved up and sold off.
And I had no idea how to stop it.