Page 62 of The Mountain Echoes

“I need my place closed down. I won’t be able to get there until?—”

“Consider it done.”

“I know I signed a lease?—”

“Don’t be absurd,” she cuts me off again. I’m leasing a cottage on the Knight Estate. “Clayton already took care of that when we knew you weren’t coming back.”

“Thanks, Sanya.”

“Not needed,” my friend says. “You gonna be okay, Aria?”

I take a deep breath and exhale. “Like you said, it’s a lot and…if I can’t make it, I’m going to have to sell Longhorn.” I pause. “I don’t want to sell my home, Sanya.”

“I understand, and you won’t have to. Remember, you’re not alone. You have friends. Look, we can help with money and?—”

“No way.”

“You’re letting your pride get in the way,” shescoffs.

“I’m not going to risk our friendship,” I say firmly. “And…it’s going to work out.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’ll be hard, don’t get me wrong.”

“How hard?”

“Sanya”—I look up at the mountains, I see the sun rise languidly—“it’s goin’ to be like threading a needle while riding a bucking bronc.”

Sanya laughs. “That’s such aRansom Canyonthing to say.”

We talk a little more before ending the call.

As I walk back to the house to meet Tomas and Earl, who’ll be there soon for breakfast, I feel better. I won’t be joining Tomas and Earl on the ranch today, not until later, because I have an appointment with the bank. I spent the night going through the accounts, and no one was exaggerating the poor health of Longhorn’s finances.

But if I can get the bank to give me an extension, get the government to do the same on the estate tax. Maybe if all the stars align….

I’m not afraid to work. And Iknowhow to do the work.

Before California, before the heartbreak, I lived this life.

I rode fences with Papa.

Branded calves.

Held the light during midnight births.

Won buckles before I knew what taxes were.

I know what this land needs. What this ranch needs.

But I am going to need every drop of sweat from me. Every bit of patience from the universe.

I stop by an apple tree, reach up and snap off a dead twig, roll it between my fingers, and let it fall to the soil.

The sun, thin as it is, feels good on my face.

A new season is coming.