Chapter 1 #2
Dad let out a huff that sounded halfway between a sigh and a chuckle. “I tried discussing it with you last week. You shut me down, then went and cut out Ray against my wishes.”
“We don’t need a consultant.” He couldn’t get past that one sticking point. His control began to slip, and he forced a breath deep into his lungs. “The numbers prove I’m doing exactly what the ranch needs.”
“The numbers prove you’re profitable.” Dad shook his head. They’d had this discussion too many times to count, and it always ended the same way. A complete stalemate. “Numbers don’t prove you’re being faithful.”
“Faithful to what? Outdated business models that nearly bankrupted us.” He’d grown up with stories about how they’d almost lost the ranch. Years of hunger and losing livestock. Those things would never happen as long as he held the financial reins.
“We were never bankrupt.”
“Close enough.” He gripped his biceps to keep from curling his hands into fists.
“You had a heart attack two years ago thanks to stress. You think I don’t remember Mom crying in the kitchen, terrified we’d lose everything?
You think I don’t have nightmares about sitting in this office night after night, trying to make payroll? ”
Dad’s expression softened. “Luke.”
“I fixed it.” His voice rose before he could temper it. “I implemented systems to keep us safe. I created efficient protocols and built sustainability. The ranch is profitable for the first time in years, and you brought in a consultant to tell me I’m doing it wrong.”
That. That right there was what hurt the most. Betrayal. He’d been betrayed by his own father. After all the hard work, the sacrifices he’d made for the ranch and the family, it wasn’t enough.
“You’re not doing it wrong.” Dad wrapped him in a hug. “Different, sure, and maybe not the way your grandfather would do things. Doesn’t make it wrong. I just need you to try and see things from my perspective too.”
Luke didn’t fight the hug. He dropped his arms and returned the embrace. Dad would hold on until he relented, and he’d never pass up the opportunity to hug his father. “Grandpa’s methods don’t work in today’s market.”
“Your grandfather built this ranch on the principle that we serve God by serving our community.” The words cut deep, and Dad’s arms tightened. “Profit mattered, but it wasn’t the only thing that mattered. People knew they could count on us to help when they needed it. And they returned the favor.”
“Help that came at our expense.”
“Not always. The town stepped up two years ago, didn’t they?
Ray was one of the first to offer a year’s supply of hay for a tenth of the cost.” Dad thumped him on the back.
“Help often comes from abundance, which God provides. But giving even when it hurts is never a gift wasted. Pursuing profitability at the expense of something more valuable might not be the best way to go about things.”
Luke stepped back, dislodging Dad’s hand. He crossed to the coffee pot and poured a full cup. “Community goodwill doesn’t pay the mortgage.”
“But being blessed counts for more.” Dad poured a cup of coffee for himself and sipped.
“I won’t argue that the ranch has always made money under your guidance.
All I’m saying is it used to be a place where a struggling neighbor could get equipment on loan without a contract.
Or where a young man could learn ranching without being charged for the privilege.
Grace and generosity used to be part of our witness.
” Dad carried his coffee across the room and out the door, leaving Luke alone with his thoughts.
The afternoon blurred into evening, his morning with Dad and Claire causing him to avoid the main house in favor of hard labor.
By the time his phone reminded him to get ready for Monday night’s prayer meeting, he’d almost decided not to go. He would have, but Mom had asked him to help set up chairs and he’d already disappointed Dad enough for one day.
He pulled into the half-full parking lot and went straight around to the back door, ducking in before anyone spotted him and began hauling chairs out of the storage room. He’d arranged the first two rows when Pastor Mark walked in.
“Luke. Good to see you.” The older man’s smile appeared with the ease of a man who lived and loved every single day to the fullest.
“Pastor.” Luke set down another chair.
“Your father mentioned he introduced you to Claire this morning.”
Luke harrumphed. “Word travels fast.”
“Small town.” Pastor Mark shrugged. “Claire’s been a real blessing to our community these past few weeks.”
It would be great if people stopped extolling Claire’s virtues to him.
He tightened his jaw and kept working.
“Anyway.” Pastor Mark patted his shoulder. “Glad to hear you two connected.”
People entered and began sitting, prompting Pastor Mark to leave Luke to greet the others.
Luke took a seat in the back row, half-listening to Pastor Mark as he opened the prayer meeting.
Movement near the kitchen snagged his attention.
Claire emerged carrying a casserole dish, her hair pulled back in a ponytail and her blazer replaced with a simple cardigan over a peach dress.
She set the dish on the hospitality table, then turned to help Mrs. Patterson who struggled with a stack of smaller containers.
He sat close enough their voices carried to him.
“Oh honey, you don’t have to do that.” But Mrs. Patterson relinquished the dishes with a smile.
“I don’t mind.” Claire took the containers and added them to the table. “I took the liberty of creating a spreadsheet so we can keep things more organized. These are for the Millers, so I’ll put them over here.”
Mrs. Patterson lowered herself into a chair near the table. “I swear, this church family never stops being willing to help.”
“That’s good. It means people care enough to help.” She pulled out a notebook—the same one she’d had in his office this morning—and made a note. “I wanted to talk to you about a community fundraiser for the Hendersons. Their insurance bills are way more than they anticipated.”
“You’re too good to us, dear.” Mrs. Patterson patted Claire’s hand. “Moving back here to care for your grandmother and still finding time to help everyone else. It’s admirable.”
“Granny Mama would do the same thing.” She shrugged as blush covered her cheeks. “Besides, I like helping.”
He stared. He couldn’t help it. This version of Claire was so different from the composed consultant who’d dissected his business decisions this morning. She laughed easily, swapping stories with anyone who approached and asking about people’s families like she’d been here her whole life.
The contradiction shouldn’t have bothered him.
She believed what she’d said this morning. To Claire, community mattered as much as profit. She believed what she spouted about relationships being assets worth preserving. To hear everyone who talked to her, she lived it out here, giving her time and expertise to anyone who asked.
When Pastor Mark dismissed them, Luke stayed in his seat as people clustered into groups for lively conversation. He should leave. Go home, review tomorrow’s schedule, avoid any further interaction with the consultant who’d invaded his office and his thoughts.
Instead, he watched Claire coordinate the meal ministry with three other women, assigning deliveries, checking addresses and laughing at something Mrs. Patterson said. She glanced up once, her eyes meeting Luke’s across the fellowship hall.
Recognition flickered in her expression. Not surprise exactly, but acknowledgment.
Luke looked away first.
Seconds later, a soft tap on his shoulder, along with the floral fragrance he’d already memorized as hers interrupted his musing. “You didn’t look like you would get something for yourself.”
He turned, his shoulder almost knocking the cup from her hand, and he grabbed it with both hands, locking his palms over her knuckles to keep the hot liquid from hitting her. “Sorry.”
Wide brown eyes locked on him, and a slow, barely perceptible tremor shook her body. “Are you okay?”
The hot coffee had scalded his knuckles, but he’d saved her from the pain. “Fine. Didn’t mean to bump you.”
“Not a problem.” Her fingers flexed beneath his hands. “I, uh. I need to get back to the table.”
It took a second for it to register that he’d trapped her in his presence by holding so tightly to the cup, her hands sandwiched between his palms and the cup. “Right.” He let go with one hand, took the handle, and nodded. “Thanks for this.”
“You’re welcome.” She took a step back, brushing her palms together. Her skirt twirled around her calves when she spun away.
He made it to his truck before admitting he was rattled. The woman in his office had been easy to categorize—another consultant, another outside opinion, another person who didn’t understand what it took to run a successful operation.
But the woman in the church kitchen, caring for elderly widows and coordinating meals for struggling families while offering her financial expertise for free, was harder to dismiss.
She’d asked if he’d noticed changes in community relationships.
He had. Three families had stopped buying their beef. The 4H program had moved to another ranch for mentorship. Vendors who used to call him first now called last.
He’d told himself it didn’t matter. Business was business. Profit was profit.
But watching Claire tonight, seeing how naturally she wove together competence and compassion, efficiency and generosity, made him wonder if maybe—just maybe—he’d been measuring success by the wrong metrics.
Luke climbed into his truck and sat in the dark parking lot, hands gripping the steering wheel.
Tomorrow morning, he’d meet with Claire at the Brand Iron Diner.
She’d present her analysis, and he’d defend his decisions.
They’d probably disagree on half of it. And through all of it, he’d have to try and forget how touching her tonight made his entire being buzz with something that resembled attraction.