DYNASTY - kayce dutton

chapter three

THE WIND was sharp against Reagan's face as she rode across the ranch, the sprawling Montana landscape stretching out endlessly before her. She had grown up with this view, knowing every rise and dip of the land, the wild grass dancing in the wind, and the towering mountains in the distance that had always stood like silent guardians. This land was in her blood, her bones. It was everything that tied her to the past. To her family.

She urged her horse forward, needing the ride to clear her head. She hadn't been home for long, but the weight of the place was already settling in, like a heavy burden she'd left behind years ago but could never quite escape.

For a brief time, the land had belonged to Tommy, but now it was her father's. Tommy had been the one who stayed, the one who kept the ranch going when she left for the city to pursue her law career. He never asked anything of her—until the day she decided to go.

She could still see the way Tommy had stood there, leaning against the weathered fence, the setting sun casting long shadows across the dirt. His face was as worn as the land they stood on, every line etched with the years he had given to the ranch. His voice, usually steady, had a tremble to it that caught her off guard.

"I don't know how much time I've got left, Reagan," he had said, eyes fixed on the horizon as if it held the answer he was searching for. "I've gotten into trouble with some people."

He swallowed hard, and for a moment, she thought he wouldn't continue. Tommy wasn't one to ask for help, least of all from her. But then, with a deep breath, he looked her square in the eyes, a grim determination in his gaze.

"I can't do it alone anymore," he confessed. "If you don't stay, if you don't help me keep this land afloat, there won't be anything left of it. Not for you, not for me, not for anyone. I need you here, Reags."

The weight of his words had hit her like a blow. She had left to forge her own path, to be free of the burden of the ranch. But standing there, seeing the quiet desperation in her brother's face, she realized this was a fight she couldn't turn her back on. Not anymore.

When she reached the ridge that overlooked the valley, she pulled up the reins and let the horse slow to a stop. From here, the land stretched out in every direction, a sea of green and gold, broken only by the distant silhouette of the main ranch house and the barns.

It looked the same as it always had, but Reagan knew better. She could feel the shift in the air, the slow erosion of something she had always believed would be untouchable.

The sound of hooves approached from behind, and she didn't need to look to know it was her father.

William, aside from his faults, was the one reliable backbone of the ranch, carrying its weight on his shoulders without a word of complaint. But lately, there was something different in his eyes—a weariness she had never seen before.

He reined his horse in beside hers, his face hard to read beneath the brim of his worn cowboy hat. For a long moment, they sat in silence, both staring out at the land as if trying to memorize every inch of it.

"Reagan," William finally said, his voice low and gruff, "we need to talk."

She didn't reply at first, just kept her gaze fixed on the horizon. She knew what was coming—she'd seen it in his face since she'd arrived. The financial strain, the weight of keeping the ranch in one piece. But she wasn't ready to hear it. Not yet, and not so soon after her brother's funeral.

After a long pause, she turned to face him. "What is it, Dad?"

He exhaled slowly, taking off his hat and running a hand through his tousled hair. "I've been tryin' to hold it off as long as I can. But we're out of time. Tommy knew, the ranch... it's hanging by a thread."