Gibbs laughed, but Charlie Grace didn’t miss the way his fingers twitched at his side, as if counting the dollars that had slipped through them.
Across the way, a few ranchers in dusty boots murmured among themselves, shaking their heads in amazement. “Can’t believe it,” one of them muttered. “That ol’ barn’s been standin’ there forever. Who would’ve thought?”
As the murmurs swelled, Nicola leaned in toward her husband, voice dropping to a whisper but still loud enough for half the crowd to hear. “Wooster, you will make sure Charlie Grace deposits every dime of that into the bank, won’t you?”
Reva sighed, already exhausted by the inevitable chaos this find would bring. “Nicola, for the love of all things holy, please do not harass Charlie Grace about her finances.”
Nicola huffed but kept her gaze locked on Charlie Grace, who was still deep in conversation with Frank Ellis. “I’m just sayin’…somebody’s got to guide her through this. And who better than Wooster?”
Behind her, Sweetpea let out an indignant yip, as if in agreement.
Within hours, appraisers confirmed what the television crew had expressed.
Ten million dollars. A Patek Philippe pocket watch, hidden away in a rusted tin box buried beneath the old feed sacks, now confirmed as one of the rarest in the world. And she—Charlie Grace Rivers—was suddenly, inexplicably, rich.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. People like her—people who worked sunup to sundown just to keep the ranch afloat—didn’t stumble into wealth overnight.
She thought about her father, Clancy, who was napping on the porch back at the main house, completely worn out by the morning and all that followed. Did he truly understand the seismic shift this discovery meant in their lives? Would she even believe it once the shock wore off?
“Charlie Grace?”
She turned sharply at the sound of her name. Nick stepped from the barn’s doorway and headed in her direction, his broad frame backlit by the afternoon sun, his expression careful. He’d been there through the entire evaluation, standing by her side, a steadying force in a day that had flipped her world upside down. She saw the concern in his eyes, the way he studied her like he expected her to crumble any second.
She let out a laugh as he neared—high and strange, a little bit wild. “Nick. I’m rich.”
His lips lifted slightly. “Yeah, babe. You are.”
A sob broke free before she could catch it, and suddenly, the weight of it all slammed into her. Ten million dollars. Enough to fix everything. The guest ranch. Clancy’s endless medical bills. The leaking roof. The worn-out tack room. The late invoices from suppliers she’d barely managed to stay ahead of. It wasn’t just money. It was freedom.
Nick crossed the remaining space in three long strides, his hands bracing her shoulders, warm and solid. “Hey. It’s okay.”
She wiped at her cheeks. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You don’t have to know yet. One step at a time.”
She pulled in a shaky breath, nodding. But already, her mind was racing. The taxes. The security risks. The vultures that came out of the woodwork when money was involved. The town’s reaction. How long before everyone treated her differently? How long before Gibbs showed up with his hand out, smooth-talking and scheming?
Nick seemed to read her thoughts because his grip on her tightened slightly. “You don’t owe anyone anything, Charlie Grace. This doesn’t change who you are.”
She searched his face. “Doesn’t it?”
He exhaled. “Only if you let it.”
A fresh wave of emotion crested over her, but this time, it was steadier. There was power in knowing she had choices now, that she wasn’t backed into a financial corner at every turn. But there was also fear—fear of what it would mean to step into this new reality, to be a woman with wealth when all she’d ever known was struggle.
“I need to sit down,” she muttered.
Nick guided her to an overturned crate, settling beside her, his presence grounding. They sat in silence for a long moment, the scent of hay and old wood wrapping around them like a familiar embrace.
Finally, she let out a long breath. “I don’t want to lose myself in this.”
He nodded. “Then don’t. Stay who you are. Stay Charlie Grace.”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat, lifting her gaze to meet his. “Will you help me?”
Nick’s expression softened. “Always.”
And for the first time since the appraisers had confirmed the impossible, Charlie Grace exhaled, steadying herself against the weight of it all—not as something overwhelming, but as a gift she was ready to carry.
