Page 64 of Fire Fight
Crew chuckled. “We’ve got a lot of land, for starters.”
“How much is ‘a lot’?”
“About a hundred thousand acres.”
I whistled low. “Damn. And how long has it been in the family?”
“Since the mid-1800s.”
I gaped at the vast expanse surrounding us as we rolled down the drive. I couldn’t imagine this kind of legacy. Sure, both of my parents had grown up in Chicago, but that wasn’t the same as a single family working this exact land for nearly two hundred years.
“How come you didn’t join the family business?”
He shrugged. “Never wanted to. And that’s the great thing about my parents. They encouraged us to do whatever we wanted instead of making us feel obligated to work this land like our ancestors.”
“Did any of you stick around the ranch then?”
“Finn and West. The twins,” he added when my forehead pinched in confusion. Honestly, there were so many of them and I had no frame of reference for anyone outside of him and Lane at this point, seeing as they were the only two I’d met.
Although, I supposed that was about to change.
“So do they handle all of it together, or…”
“Nah,” Crew said, guiding us around a bend. “Finn handles the rescue side of things, and West manages the dude ranch. But they both work with the animals we use for byproducts.”
“Byproducts as in…meat?”
“We stopped slaughtering animals a long time ago, about the time my dad took over. After growing up here when it had been a working cattle ranch, he couldn’t stomach it anymore. Thankfully, that happened before any of us came along, so this is all we’ve ever known. We have dairy cows, chickens for eggs, and goats for cheese.”
“Quite the operation.”
“Dad did an incredible job building a solid foundation for us, and when he died, it ran relatively smoothly for years until Finn and West settled down and started the rescue and dude ranches.”
I found myself hanging on every word as he described growing up here, running amok through the fields with his five older brothers, learning to ride horses and milk cows, rock climbing on the sheer cliff faces and jumping from the top into the random lakes that dotted the property.
Before long, we pulled up to the most gorgeous house I’d ever seen. Standing two stories tall, it featured white clapboard siding, the bottom three or so feet accented with smooth, medium-sizedriver rocks ranging in color from dark grey to light beige. The entire front facade consisted of windows, and I could imagine they let in a ton of natural light—especially with nothing to obstruct the view, though towering maple trees dotted the surrounding yard, providing some shade.
On the opposite side of the driveway, the land gently sloped away to barns and corrals in the distance. Horses and ranch hands moved around outside. There was a white, low slung barn and a taller red one. In the fields beyond, cows grazed.
Crew took a deep breath as he turned the engine off and looked at me.
“You ready?”
I quirked a brow. “You worried?”
“I love them,” he said, flicking his gaze toward the house. I followed to see a woman emerge, her grey-blonde hair piled into a messy yet stylish bun atop her head. She wore a bright red apron overtop jeans and a simple tee, a matching dish towel slung over her shoulder, and a wide grin. Crew groaned and finished, “But they’re a lot.”
“I’m sure they’re amazing,” I said, reaching over and squeezing his hand. We lingered in that touch for a moment before I gave his fingers a final pulse, let go to unbuckle, and hopped out of the truck.
nineteen
. . .
ASPEN
“You must be Aspen!”the woman crowed as she hurried down the white-washed steps of the wraparound porch to greet me.
“I am,” I said, thrusting my hand out. The woman—who could only be the Lawless matron—swatted it away and drew me in for a hug. Everything about her was warm, from her skin to her scent to her voice.
