“But I can’t get the endorsements I need to support our family! And the Wilsons,” I blurt out in an exasperated tone. But I know that no one will understand my frustration better than Cass. She feels as responsible for the family as I do.
“Whoa, slow down. Why do you suddenly need to support the Wilsons? And it’s not like we’re starving over here.”
I briefly explain the situation at Star Mountain, and how I’ve been donating to it every week, and plan to keep supporting it in the future.
“Okay,” Cassandra says. “I understand wanting to help your friends, Nate. But it sounds like you’ve done more than enough for them.”
“I don’t want them to work themselves to the bone every day for the rest of their lives. I want them to have a chance to rest.”
I say them, but I’m really thinking about Candice, working from dawn to dusk seven days a week, every week since her grandparents died.
Never taking a moment for herself.
Never getting to go to Paris.
“They’ll get there,” Cass reassures me. “You helped out with social media as much as possible and the magazine article will bring them even more publicity.”
I nod, but it doesn’t feel like enough. It won’t feel like enough until Candice has the money to buy every damn horse in the state of Montana if she wants.
“And we’re fine. I promise you, Nate.”
“No, you’re not.”
“We are,” Cass insists. “We used the money you injected into this place to pay off the mortgage and the loans Dad took out, and now we’re actually making a small profit. We’re not yet millionaires, but when have any of us wanted to be?”
“I still need to be able to bail you out if need be,” I say stubbornly. “I’ve got savings, but I’m trying to be financially smart about this. I can’t just quit my job at the age of thirty.”
“Come with me to the office right now and I’ll let you look at the accounts, and the books. If you still think we need your bail out money, fine, go spend every day competing until you’re ancient. But I promise you, things are okay.”
I follow Cass back to the house and the attached office, where she slams the accounting books in front of me and brings up the ranch’s bank accounts online. I look them over, though I admittedly feel a bit out of my depth with some of the accounting. I have an accountant who deals with things for me, and Cassandra has always been the sibling who’s good at math.
“Things look good,” I say. “You’ve even got some reserves.”
“We do,” she says proudly, spinning around in the cracked leather office chair. “And we’re going to keep doing well because I know what I’m doing.”
“I know you do,” I say, feeling guilty. “I never meant to imply that you didn’t. It’s just—I’m responsible for this place just as much as you are. I want to make enough money so that you can all rely on me for the rest of your lives. I don’t want to be like Dad.” I spit out the last word, feeling the vile taste of it on my tongue.
“Something tells me we’ll be trying our hardest not to be like him for our entire lives.”
“Yeah,” I say, sighing.
“Seriously, though, compete or don’t compete. Do endorsements and photoshoots and social media, or don’t. We’ll be fine either way. Just do what makes you happy.”
“Sure, yeah, I’ll think about it,” I say, trying to appease her.
“There’s something else going on, though, right?” Cass spins around to face me and starts tapping the end of her pencil against the open accounting book, like a teacher waiting for an answer. “Last time you were here, there was a tall blonde with you. This time, you’re alone.”
“Christ Cass, you can’t let me get away with anything, can you?”
“No,” she says. “I can’t. Because I know you. You might be happy to take risks in the saddle, but with women, you run at the first sign of danger, without looking back. You’re afraid to get too involved.”
“I asked her to be with me and she said no,” I say flatly. “She’s the one who didn’t want to be too involved withme. Our lifestyles don’t mesh well together.”
“Are you sure that’s true? Are you sure you’re not just taking the easy way out by putting all of the blame on her?” Cassandra doesn’t mince words, ever, and these hit me square in the chest, and piss me off.
I get out of my chair and open the office door.
“I’m done talking about this with you,” I say, not looking at her.
