Roping The Cowgirl's Heart

Chapter 2

Savannah

The funeral reception was a blur of faces and condolences, casseroles, whiskey, and tears. I moved through the crowd like a ghost, shaking hands and accepting hugs. I felt disconnected from my body and the world around me. Like I was watching someone else's life unfold on a flickering screen.

I caught glimpses of my siblings in the crowd, each dealing with their grief in their own way. Liam was holding court in the corner, his jaw tight and his eyes hard. He talked business with the neighboring ranchers. Always the pragmatist, the one with an eye on the bottom line, even amid tragedy.

Ethan was by the bar, knocking back whiskey like it was water, his laughter too loud and his smiles too bright. He'd always been the wild one. The one who chafed against the restraints of ranch life, who dreamed of being a musician. I wondered if he'd even stick around long enough for the reading of the will. Or if he'd be off chasing his next thrill before the ink was dry.

And Grace, sweet, sensitive Grace, huddled on the couch, her face pale and her eyes red-rimmed. She'd always been the heart of the family. The one who felt everything too deep, who wore her emotions like an opened book. I ached to go to her, to wrap her in my arms and tell her it would be alright. But the words stuck in my throat, bitter and hollow.

Because nothing would ever be alright again. Not without our father, not without the glue that had held us all together for so long. I felt like a kite cut loose from its string, drifting aimless in the wind, with no idea where to land.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't notice Wyatt until he was right beside me, his hand warm on the small of my back. I started, my heart kicking into overdrive at his touch.

"Hey," he said, looking at me. "How are you holding up?"

I shrugged a brittle little motion that felt like it might shatter me. "I'm fine," I lied. "Just tired, you know?"

Wyatt's brow furrowed, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on my spine. "Savannah," he said, his voice low and gentle. "You don't have to do this, not with me. You don't have to pretend to be okay when you're not."

I closed my eyes, feeling the hot press of tears behind my lids. "I can't fall apart, Wyatt," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I can't let myself feel it, not really. Because if I do, I'm afraid I'll never stop crying."

Wyatt made a soft, pained sound, and then his arms were around me, pulling me into his chest. I stiffened for a moment, fighting the urge to pull away, to run and hide. But then I felt the steady thump of his heartbeat against my cheek, and something inside me crumbled.

I sank against him. My fingers fisted onto the fabric of his shirt, my face buried in the warm hollow of his throat. And then the tears came, hot and fast and unstoppable, pouring out of me like a breaking dam.

Wyatt held me as I wept, his arms strong and steady around my shaking body. He didn't try to shush me or tell me it would be okay, didn't offer empty platitudes or false comfort. He held me, his cheek resting against my hair, his hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on my back.

When my sobs finally subsided, Wyatt pulled back enough to look down at me, his eyes soft and sad. "I'm so sorry, Sav," he murmured, his thumb brushing away the tears on my cheek. "I know how much you're hurting right now, and I wish I could take it away. I'm here, okay? I'll be here whenever you need me."

I nodded, as I wiped my eyes. "Thank you," my voice was hoarse and raw. "Thank you—for... for everything."

Wyatt smiled a small, tender smile that made my heart flip in my chest.

We stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world falling away.

But the sound of raised voices interrupted the moment. I pulled away from Wyatt's embrace, My heart sinking as I recognized the angry tones of my siblings.

I turned to see Liam and Ethan squaring off in the middle of the room, their faces flushed and their eyes blazing. Grace hovered between them. Her hands fluttered as she tried to play peacemaker.

"You can't be serious," Liam was saying, his voice tight with barely controlled fury. "Selling the ranch? It's been in our family for generations, Ethan. It's our legacy, our birthright."

Ethan scoffed, his lip curling up in a sneer. "Legacy? Birthright? Come on, Liam, this isn't the Middle Ages. The ranch is a money pit, and you know it. We're drowning in debt, and now with Dad gone..."

"Don't you dare bring Dad into this," Liam growled, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "He would have never wanted us to sell, and you know it. He poured his heart and soul into this place, and you want to throw it away like it means nothing?"

"What I want is to not have to deal with a failing business. And a mountain of bills for the rest of my life," Ethan shot back, his voice rising. "I have my dreams, Liam, my own life to live. And it sure as hell doesn't involve shoveling horse shit and mending fences until I'm old and gray."

"Guys, please," Grace pleaded, her eyes shiny with tears. "This isn't what Dad would have wanted. He would have wanted us to stick together, to find a way to make it work."

But neither of our brothers seemed to hear her, too caught up in their anger and resentment to see the pain on her face. I felt a rush of protectiveness, a fierce desire to shield my little sister from the ugliness of it all.

I stepped forward, my chin lifted and my eyes hard. "Enough," I said, my voice cutting through the chaos like a knife. "This is not the time or the place for this conversation. We just buried our father, for God's sake. Have some respect."

Liam and Ethan turned to look at me, their faces flushed and their chests heaving. For a moment, I thought they might ignore me, might keep tearing into each other like rabid dogs. But then Liam's shoulders slumped, and he ran a hand over his face. At that moment, he looked much older than his thirty years.

"You're right," he said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "I'm sorry, Ethan. I didn't mean to lose my cool like that. It's just... the thought of losing the ranch, of letting Dad down... it's too much."

Ethan sighed, the fight draining out of him like water from a leaky bucket. "I get it, Liam. I do. But we have to be realistic here. The ranch is in trouble, and we're not exactly flush with cash. We need to at least consider all our options."

Grace stepped forward, her hand resting on Liam's arm. "Why don't we wait until the will is read?" she suggested, her voice soft and tentative. "Maybe... Dad left us something, some way to keep the ranch going."

Liam and Ethan exchanged a look, skepticism and hope warring in their eyes. But finally, they nodded, a fragile truce settling over them like a thin layer of frost.

"Okay," Liam said, his voice gruff. "We'll wait for the will. But Savannah... you're the one who's been running things since Dad got sick. What do you think? Is there any way to save the ranch, or are we only delaying the inevitable?"

I felt the weight of their gazes on me, heavy and expectant. I swallowed hard, my mind racing as I tried to find the right words. The magic solution that would make everything okay again.

But the truth was, I didn't know. The ranch had been struggling for years. Even before Daddy's illness had forced him to step back from the day-to-day operations. Drought, falling cattle prices, rising costs... it had all taken a toll, and now with the medical bills and the funeral expenses piled on top...

I took a deep breath, squaring my shoulders as I met my siblings' eyes. "I don't know," I said honestly, my voice steady despite the fear churning in my gut. "But I do know that this ranch is more than a business, more than just a piece of land. It's a part of us, a part of who we are. And I'm not ready to give up on it, not without a fight.