Chapter 2 #2
“Smart man, your great-grandfather.” Morrie’s gaze connected with hers, then back to Huck. “He’d be proud of how you’re coming along.”
Sierra blinked back tears as she drained the pasta water and mixed the noodles with sauce.
Simple food, but it filled the kitchen with warmth and the illusion of normalcy.
For a few minutes, she could pretend they were just a regular family sitting down to dinner, not a single mother trying to hold together a failing ranch.
The phone rang just as she was serving the pasta.
“Let it ring,” Morrie said quietly.
But Sierra was already moving toward the phone, driven by the same compulsion that made her check on cattle in the middle of the night and balance the books until her eyes burned. You couldn’t solve problems by ignoring them.
“Blackwood Ranch.”
“Sierra, honey, it’s Mayor Jenkins. How are you holding up?”
Seriously.
Sierra gripped the phone tighter, her free hand resting on the kitchen counter.
“I’m fine, Mayor. What can I do for you?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about our conversation after Elway’s funeral. About the challenges you’re facing with the ranch.” A pause that managed to sound both sympathetic and calculating. “I heard you had more trouble with rustlers.”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“We’re neighbors, Sierra. Of course I’d know. And neighbors need to look out for each other.” Another pause. “That’s actually why I’m calling. I’ve got a proposal that might help with your situation.”
Sierra caught Morrie’s eye across the kitchen table. He was watching her carefully, his expression grim.
“What kind of proposal?”
“Well, I know you’re struggling to keep up with the ranch payments, especially with the cattle thefts and all.
Must be hard, trying to manage everything on your own.
” Jenkins’s voice carried just enough pity to make her teeth clench.
“I’d like to make you an offer on the property.
Fair market value, cash deal, quick closing. ”
“The ranch isn’t for sale.”
“Now, I understand your attachment to the place. Elway raised you there, and it’s got sentimental value.
But sentiment doesn’t pay bills or put food on the table.
” His tone shifted slightly, becoming more businesslike.
“I’m prepared to offer you two hundred thousand, cash.
That’s more than enough to pay off your debts and get yourself established somewhere else.
Maybe closer to the city, where Huck could have better opportunities. ”
Two hundred thousand dollars? As if. Add another zero and…
No, not even then. “Like I said, it’s not for sale.”
“I’m trying to help you here. These cattle thefts aren’t going to stop, and you can’t afford to keep losing livestock. Pretty soon, you won’t have anything left to sell.”
“Then do something about it. Find the rustlers. Morrie says you’re losing cattle too.”
“Well, we’re looking into it, of course. Sheriff’s department is investigating, but these things take time. Professional cattle thieves are smart, they know how to cover their tracks.” A pause. “Hard to catch people when they know the area as well as the locals do.”
Wait. What? “Do you think someone local is involved?”
She glanced at Morrie.
“I don’t know. But the offer stands, Sierra. Think about what’s best for you and that boy of yours. Elway wouldn’t want you to sacrifice your future for a piece of land.”
Was that a threat? She opened her mouth to retort, but the line went dead.
Sierra hung up the phone, trying not to shake.
“You okay?” Morrie asked.
She nodded and returned to the table, where Huck was spinning pasta around his fork.
“What did he want?” Huck asked around a mouthful of spaghetti.
“Just checking in.” Sierra picked up her fork, though her appetite had disappeared. “Being neighborly.”
“Mom, you know you get that line between your eyebrows when you’re worried, right?” Huck pointed his fork at her face. “And it’s showing right now.”
“Eat your dinner.”
“Is it about the missing cows? Because Gunnar St. Claire’s dad says losing cattle is just part of ranching these days. Like coyotes or bad weather.”
“Gunnar St. Claire’s dad is a smart man.” Sierra forced herself to take a bite. The pasta tasted like cardboard, but she chewed and swallowed anyway. “But our cattle aren’t missing. They were stolen. There’s a difference.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Missing means they wandered off or got through a broken fence. Stolen means someone took them on purpose.” Sierra reached for her water glass. “And when someone steals from you on purpose, it could mean they’re planning to do it again.”
Morrie cleared his throat. “Maybe we should consider hiring some extra help. I know money’s tight, but if we could get a couple of young guys to patrol the property at night—”
“With what payroll?” Sierra cut him off. “I can barely afford to pay you and the other two day hands what I owe.”
“Then maybe it’s time to consider other options.”
“Like what?”
He put his fork down. “Like accepting help when it’s offered. Just sell off a portion of the land. Your pride isn’t worth losing the ranch.”
Huck had stopped eating. Stared at them, his eyes wide.
Sierra took a breath, schooled her voice.
“This ranch has been in my family since 1897. My great-great-grandfather built this house with his own hands, raised cattle through droughts and market crashes and two world wars.” Her voice stayed steady, but her hands trembled slightly.
“I was born in this house. My father was born in this house. And my son needs to live on the property of his family. This is our family legacy, and I’m not selling it to Alden Jenkins because I’m having a rough patch. ”
“Mom.” Huck’s voice was small, uncertain. “Are we going to lose the ranch?”
Sierra reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “No, baby. We’re not going to lose anything.”
“Promise?”
The word stuck in her throat. Somehow, “I promise we’ll fight for it. Every day, as hard as we can.”
It wasn’t the promise he’d asked for, but it was the only one she could make.
Huck nodded, apparently satisfied. “Good. Because I want to raise my kids here, just like you raised me.”
The words took her breath. But of course Huck saw his future on this land, the same way she always had. The same way Grandpa Elway had when he taught her to read cattle signs and fix fences and stand up for what mattered.
“Tell you what,” she said, forcing brightness into her voice. “Let’s finish dinner, and then you can help me check the horses. We need to make sure the barn’s locked up tight tonight.”
“Are you worried about horse thieves too?”
“I’m worried about being careful. There’s a difference.”
She avoided Morrie’s dark look from across the table.
And tried to tell herself that she wasn’t a fool.
But this land was all she had left. And she wasn’t signing it over to anyone, no matter the cost.
The smart play was to drive away and never look back. But no, Hammer found himself knocking on the open doorway of the office of Detective Martinelli, of the South Eagle Police Station, watching the man sort through a stack of incident reports.
Mostly because he couldn’t get the guy’s words out of his head…She’s been having some trouble lately. Cattle rustling, equipment vandalism. Nothing too serious yet, but it’s got her on edge.
And there was the bit about Elway Blackwood dying under his ATV vehicle…What?
So yeah, there Hammer stood as the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting harsh shadows across case files that probably told stories of desperation and bad choices. Same kind of desperation and choices that had driven him out of this place ten years ago.
“Mr. Wallace.” Martinelli looked up from his desk, gesturing toward a chair. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon. Still thinking about that job offer?”
The detective’s office was cramped but organized, with case files stacked neatly on metal shelving, and a coffee maker that looked like it had seen better decades.
“Maybe. Depends on what you can tell me about Elway Blackwood’s death.”
Martinelli frowned. “That’s an odd question from someone who’s just passing through.”
Hammer settled into the chair. “Elway was good to me when I was a kid. Just want to make sure his death was really an accident.”
Good to him? For cryin’ out loud, the man had saved him.
Old Elway had been the one constant source of stability during the worst years of his childhood, the neighboring rancher who’d shown him what real strength looked like, that a man’s worth was measured by how he treated those who couldn’t fight back.
And Sierra…No. He wasn’t going there. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“Any reason to think it wasn’t?” Martinelli asked.
“Dunno. He was a big deal around here for many years. Made enemies. Was there an investigation?”
Martinelli pulled a file from his desk drawer and opened it. “ATV rollover on a steep section of pasture. Elway was out there alone. Machine flipped, pinned him underneath. The hired hand found him.”
“Mechanical failure?”
“Ground was soft from recent rain, probably lost traction on the slope.” Martinelli closed the file. “Coroner ruled it accidental death. No signs of foul play.”
Hammer nodded, though something in his gut still felt unsettled. “What about this cattle rustling I heard about? Connected to anything bigger?”
“Doubtful. We’re talking about small-time thefts, probably opportunistic. Cattle prices are high, security is low.”
“Any pattern?”
“Smaller ranches, mostly. Places without full-time security or sophisticated alarm systems. For what it’s worth, we’re keeping an eye on things. Extra patrols, coordination with neighboring counties. These rustlers will slip up eventually.”
“Any suspects?”
“Few possibilities, but nothing concrete. Could be local, could be outsiders who’ve scouted the area. Hard to say.”
Hammer stood, extending his hand. “Appreciate the information, Detective.”