Broken Hero

“No shit,” I sigh. “Are the boards still in place?”

Tim drops to his knees to check. The heavy rainfall last night turned a whole section of the ranch’s parking area into mud, and one of the four-wheelers is stuck. The plan is to pull it out with my truck, but we’ve been at it for nearly thirty minutes and it’s not budging.

“Yeah, they’re in place, but they don’t seem to help.”

Jack clears his throat from his spot in the driver’s seat. “Maybe we could leave it? The sun will dry the mud in time and we can crack it.”

My jaw clenches. “It’s in the middle of the parking area. We have a major reservation for tomorrow. Where will the guests park?”

He gives a chagrined smile. “You’re right. Sorry, boss.”

I take another deep breath and force myself to be calm, to focus on problem-solving and solutions. It used to be easy-effortless, even-to pull out the leader side of me. It’s a side that once led a group of soldiers into battle. I might take orders well, but I’m usually better at issuing them. Nearly a decade in the Marines will do that to you.

“Jack, I want you to accelerate-slowly!-when I say so. We need to put the boards in place by the front tires. I’ll get back in the truck and tow. Listen for my command, Jack.”

He nods. After a bit of maneuvering and the loud growl of the truck’s engine, the four-wheeler slowly makes its way out of the mud hole. It’ll need a good wash and some care, as will we, but the gravel parking lot is at least cleared.

I disconnect my truck from the four-wheeler with quick, experienced tugs. “See if you can cover the worst of the mud with a few bags of gravel, if we have any left. We can’t have this happen to a guest’s car.”

“We’re on it.”Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

Jack jumps off of the four-wheeler and pretends to give me a little salute. I roll my eyes at him, but he’s ultimately a good kid. His mother is one of the elementary school teachers, and he’s spending the summer as my farmhand before his senior year picks up in the fall. It’s become somewhat of a rite of passage in town now, spending the summer working up at my ranch.

I don’t mind-I need the labor. Morris Ranch and Retreat employs nearly twelve people, and I have plans to expand. My family’s ranch has more acres than I know what to do with and some of the most beautiful horse-riding trails in the region.

I hear a car pull up behind us. The sound of the engine is familiar, as is the chipper voice that rings out across the parking lot.

“Ollie, there you are! Oh, hi boys. How are you today?”

“All good, Mrs. McKinley.”

“Christ, Tim, call me Sarah. I’ve known you since you were a toddler.”

Tim blushes at my sister’s comment and ducks his head. At some point, most of the young farmhands I hire have a crush on her, which, true to Sarah-fashion, she is always entirely oblivious of. Not that she’d care-a happy marriage and two small children does that to you. She still works part-time at the Ranch, commuting from her house in town.

“Hey.” I grab the grocery bag she’s carrying and we head towards the main house. “What’s up? How did the meeting with the chef go? Any potential?”

She sighs. “Not that great. I thought we were on to something.”

“He did claim to be specialized in Peruvian fusion.”

Sarah shoots me an annoyed glance. “But on the phone, he said he could cook Southern food too. Well… he did, but he couldn’t resist spicing it up.”

“In a bad way?”

“He put ceviche on a cheeseburger.”

“Ceviche?”

“Raw fish.” She gives a dramatic shiver. “It was the single most disgusting thing I’ve ever had.”

I can’t help it-I laugh.

Sarah hits me on the arm. “Don’t you dare say I told you so, Ollie.”

“I won’t. I’m just happy you’re the one interviewing the chefs and not me.”

She holds the door open for me as I carry the grocery bags inside. We both nod at Mandy, the receptionist, sitting idly behind the desk, and head into the staff kitchen.

“Only because you’d scare them away.”

I scoff. “Right.”

“Honestly, you would. You just laughed, and that was the first time I’ve heard you do that in a month.”

I put the groceries down on the kitchen island. “I laugh,” I protest. “And I wouldn’t scare them away. It’s their job to impress us, that’s all.”

She rolls her eyes and begins to unpack the bags. “Right.”

Sarah reveals new placemats for the dining-room and golden napkin holders. My sister might be a tad eccentric, but there is no denying that she’s needed here. Left to me, the place would look…sparse. I know my limits, and design is one of them.

I decide to change the subject. I can’t deal with another one of Sarah’s you-need-to-live-life-to-the-fullest tirades. She has given them periodically ever since I got back stateside.

“I looked over the booking for tomorrow. Nearly seventeen guests all in all. It’s the most we’ve ever had, outside of wedding season.”

“And all thanks to that bird! We should make it the ranch’s mascot.”

“I got us listed on the National Ornithological Society’s website for bird-watching friendly hotels.”

Her eyes widen. “That is not a real thing.”

“Believe it or not, it is. I don’t care why they come here, as long as it keeps bringing in the money.”

She snorts. “Dad would be proud.”

“We’re bringing jobs and tourism to the community. As far as I’m concerned, we’re honoring their legacy just fine.”

Her eyes soften. “We are. You are. I didn’t mean it like that.”

I look out the window. Jack and Tim are working side by side, and as I watch, Jack throws his head back and laughs at something Tim said. “I know.”

Sarah clears her throat. “Do you want to hear the latest town gossip?”

“I think you can’t wait to tell me.”

“The Rhodes’ niece is in town.”

“Fascinating.”