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“I’ll figure it out. I got some ideas.”

My brother casts me a dubious glance. “No, you don’t.”

“I can?—”

“You can’t do everything, Cash. Let us help. We’ll come up with something—you, me, the boys. Patsy and John B. There’s a poker tournament in Vegas?—”

“You know I can’t spare you that long when we got hay to bale.”

“Ella’s in preschool now, three mornings a week. Sawyer will be around more.”

Ella is my younger brother Sawyer’s three-year-old daughter. She’s cute as hell and the apple of everyone’s eye on the ranch.

I let out a breath. Sweat rolls down my temples. The inside of my truck feels like an airless oven. “She’s gotta live on the ranch for a year—Mollie. Play pretend as the boss lady. Only way she’ll get her money. It’s in Garrett’s will.”

Wyatt stares at me. “That makes zero sense.”

“No shit. Garrett and Mollie didn’t talk much, sure, but he would’ve told me if she ever expressed any interest in the ranch. She would’ve visited, you know? To put her in charge of everything…” I shake my head. “Seems reckless.”

“Garrett was not reckless.”

“Exactly. Makes me feel like he’s sending us a message.” So does the whole lockbox thing. I decide not to tell my brother about the key in my pocket. I don’t want to get his hopes up. Figure I’ll see what I’m working with and go from there.

“Maybe.” Wyatt lifts a shoulder. “Or maybe he just wanted to keep the ranch in the family.”

We are his family.I’m certain of that.

Before he promised me the ranch, I never assumed I’d get a dime from him, other than the wages he paid me.

I never expect to get anything from anyone. Expectations lead to hope, and hope leads to disappointment.

Maybe that’s what pisses me off the most about Mollie—how she feels like the world owes her something.

No way I’m working for her.

Then again, do I have a choice? What am I gonna do if she actually comes to live on the ranch? Yeah, I’m the foreman, which means I call the shots when it comes to pretty much everything that goes on at the property. I oversee a staff of fifty. I manage budgets, repairs, equipment maintenance, our calving operation and veterinary programs, not to mention hundreds of thousands of acres of land.

I get shit done. But ultimately, the person who owns Lucky Ranch is the one who signs my paychecks and those of my staff.

I bite down on the inside of my cheek, hard. We really are fucked if Mollie is that person. Not only will her sense of entitlement make her a nightmare to work with, but she also has no idea what the hell she’s doing.

Let’s not forget, she’s going to sell the ranch the secondshe can. Where will that leave us? At the mercy of some billionaire asshole with a cowboy fantasy?

“I got eight hundred bucks.” Wyatt pats his worn leather saddlebag. “I wasn’t planning on taking it to the bank, but I can deposit it if that would help? Should buy us some time?—”

“Harley closed the Lonestar early again. But really, Wyatt, you should be careful riding around with that kind of cash.”

He glances over his shoulder at the Beretta shotgun tucked behind his saddle. “I’ll be just fine.”

The shotgun was a gift from Garrett for Wyatt’s twentieth birthday. I don’t think I’ve seen my brother without it since. Probably why he’s a crack shot. Good thing, considering Wyatt runs an illegal poker ring out of The Rattler’s basement.

“Rent from the house should cover our bills this month. Keep the eight hundred for a rainy day.”

Wyatt glances up at the sky. “None of those in sight.”

The heat is killing me. I let off the brakes. “Were you able to fix the tire on the baler?”

“Duke patched the hole, yeah. It was a nail. Changed the oil in the tractor too.”