It was the biggest if I’d ever put my money on.
Reluctantly, I took it, sliding it into my folder of paperwork. “The answer will likely still be no.”
“So what I’m hearing is that there’s a chance for a yes,” he said with a gentle smile.
“Hear whatever you want. Thank you for the offer. It’s … too generous.”
“It’s not enough, if you ask me.”
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to cash this check right here and now and go home to tell Jake I fixed everything—we could pay down our debts and replace any cattle we lost. Provided no more got sick. And the FDA allowed us to stay open.
“I really have to go,” I said, backing toward the door.
“I understand. Let me know if there’s a way I can help. Even if it’s my public humiliation for your boyfriend’s sake.”
A smile drifted across my face and away at the thought of Chase in tighty-whities, standing on Joe’s bar, singing Britney Spears. With a nod, I turned for the door again, and this time, I made it out without intrusion. Once in Pop’s truck, I tossed the folder onto the bench seat like it was an envelope dusted with anthrax.
The weight of decision fell heavy on me, and I bucked against it, anxious to escape.
There was no money for the farm with the exception of the check in my folder, and it’d come from the pocket of our enemy. As much as I wanted to believe Chase, as wonderful as it’d be for everyone to join hands and sing “Kumbaya,” we couldn’t be further from peace and happiness.
I tried to imagine what Jake would say. I tried to imagine what we would do with that money and without it. Sell off cattle? Downsize? Let our staff go?
My stomach turned, and panic rose.
The ride home was a blur. When I pulled up to the house, I snatched the folder and marched inside, tossing it onto Pop’s desk before heading upstairs to change. I pulled on my boots. Tied a bandana around my head. Opened the door and hustled for the red barn.
Nothing like a little manual labor to burn off your angst.
The barn smelled of hay and feed and the tang of animals. Motes of dust floated in light slicing in from the windows, and for a moment, I watched them dance. How nice it would be to just float lazily in the sunshine, carried around by whatever current grabbed you.
When I stopped by the animals’ pens to say hello, they greeted me with sounds of recognition. Or hunger. Maybe both.
I approached Alice last.
“Hello, and how are you?” I stroked her head. When we met eyes, she chuffed like a train. “Want a milking?”
I reached for the bucket and stool, but before I had them, Alice lay down. Her face was upturned, her eyes searching.
Frowning, I made my way back to her, kneeling to pet her. “What’s the matter, girl?”
Dread rose, bubbling up from my belly to my esophagus. Again, she chuffed and laid her head in my lap.
“Oh God,” I breathed, searching the hay for the only sign the cattle gave that they were ill.
I found it too quickly, the pinkish ring of hay that told me what I didn’t want to know. Then another.
No.
The twist in my chest hurt too badly to speak or breathe or think. I just sat there with Alice’s head in my lap, my mind a screen of static until something finally broke through.
Jake. Find Jake.
Before I had the chance to move Alice’s head, Jake’s voice sounded behind me.
“Where’d you go in your funeral dress just now—” He stopped.
Tears nipped my eyes, my vision blurring when I met his gaze.
“No. Not Alice.”
I nodded.
“Jesus,” he said, rushing to kneel at my side, somehow managing to hold me with a heifer’s head in my lap.
“How did she get sick?” I asked around hitching sobs. “She’s not even with the herds.”
“I don’t know.”
“It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense.” Fear and hysteria gripped me, pinching my lungs until my fingertips tingled.
“It will. I’m going to find out what’s going on. I promise.”
“You can’t promise that. And what happens if we don’t? What if we never find out?” I pulled back to look at him, falling to pieces without anyone to catch me. “It got to the red barn, Jake! Alice hasn’t been anywhere near the sick cows, and look! Look at her!” Both of us did. “What if all the cattle get sick? What if we lose everything we have?”
“I won’t let that happen,” he insisted.
“What happens if you can’t stop it?”
The question hung between us.
“We have to start thinking about what happens if this doesn’t go away. Where’s the threshold of loss? How long until we’re bankrupt or worse? If this keeps going like it is, we won’t be able to replace the cattle. And then what?”
He watched me, his brows low, his eyes dark. “Then we’ll figure it out,” he ground out.
“And what if we can’t?”
“What exactly are you getting at?”
“You’re too stubborn to consider any outcome but success. You think you can overcome anything by the sheer power of your will. But you can’t make something from nothing. You can’t just decide it’s going to be okay. It’s time we thought about what happens if it isn’t. And the fact of the matter is, we can’t do this alone.”
“We can sell off stock. Downsize.”
“We don’t know how many cattle we’re going to lose—we might not have anything left to sell.”
“The bank then. Another loan—”
I shook my head, my tears choking me. “I tried. That’s where I was—the bank. They won’t give us any more money, Jake. We don’t have the capital or the equity to save ourselves. Without an influx of cash, we’ll never make it. And the more stock we lose, the deeper our debt.” When I tried to take a breath, it hitched in my chest. “I ran into Chase today, and—”
He backed up. Stood. Looked down at me. “If you propose Chase Patton help us, I swear to God, Olivia, we are through.”
The ease with which he’d thrown something so serious at me left me gaping. “You would leave me just for suggesting something?”
“If that something is rolling over for the Pattons, then yeah. I would. Because that would mean we fundamentally disagree on the most sacred point—loyalty to this farm and everything it stands for. Not to mention that they are the ones who did this to us.”
“What else do you suggest we do? I don’t want to do it either, but I’m out of ideas. Who else has the money to help us? If not them, who? Chase might be our only option. You were right—the Pattons were after us. James Patton sent Chase to infiltrate, and Chase told me. He didn’t lie, didn’t try to sneak around me. He came straight out and told me, just because it was the right thing to do.”
He glared down at me with all the anger and all the betrayal of the apostles finding Judas. “When did he tell you?”
“Fourth of July—”
“You’ve known this for weeks?”
“I … I didn’t think—”
“No. You didn’t think.” His chest heaved. “I thought we were on the same page. You don’t know me at all if you think I’d ever consider shaking hands with those thieves. And I guess I don’t know you either, not if you’d keep this from me. Not if you’d suggest we take money from a Patton.” He drew himself up to his full height, his face shutting me out like a door blown closed by the wind. “I’m not taking their filthy, tainted money. You kept the truth from me—the Pattons have been after us this whole time, just like I said. You knew, and you defended them. If you think Chase doesn’t have an angle, you’re a sucker and a fool. But worse than that—you trust him over me. You’d choose his word over my wishes.”