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moments. She looked ragged and worn. The sight of her aging before my eyes depressed me.
    I wiped at the tears that trickled down my cheeks. If I allowed the emotion to creep in, we were going to be in far worse than we already were.
    “Mom, have you thought about boarding a room out to someone who wants to put their cattle here?”
    “A strange man living in my house? What would the town folk say? Are you nuts?” She turned at stared at me.
    I walked over and sat on the sofa, the end closest to her chair as her gaze followed me. The lamp light between us lit her face. She wasn’t impressed with my question.
    “No, I’m thinking logistically. Purely hypothetical at this point, but what if a young man needed to rent out a room and would be available to help out around here? That wouldn’t be bad, and I know other people have done it like the Duncans.”
    She stood from the chair abruptly. “Yes, but they were a family and rented a room. Not a single woman.” Her hands were on her hips, a clear sign she wasn’t backing down.
    I threw my hands in the air. “Fine, it was just a suggestion. I’m trying to do everything I can.”
    “And you think I’m not?” Her words flung out at me, her face tight with frustration and despair. My skin was intact, but I felt the invisible rip of my flesh. She was angry and resented my attempts to help, like I was meddling and trying to become the alpha adult.
    She went to bed, hungry and angry, not to mention slamming a door on her way. Something she rarely did. The emotional wounds left wide open, for both of us.
    I made the decision not to tell her the rest of my plans. She was tired. The argument was fresh, and we still had a couple of weeks to get it worked out, but I wasn’t giving up. There was no fighting change. Things were going to be different whether it was what we wished or not, or the bank was going to take over.

    Holt Severs gave my number to his son, Ben. When I received Ben’s call on Wednesday, I was surprised at how much he knew about our little town. Seems he’d spent quite a bit of time working land just up the road from us. He had about seven hundred head of cattle and wished to put about four hundred on our place. Justin, his ranch hand, was only twenty-two years old and needed to stay with the herd. His family was in Oklahoma, so he wasn’t too far away, and Ben said he could provide a thorough background check and references.
    I scheduled a meeting with both Justin and Ben on Sunday, so they could meet Mom too.
    I was certain there were going to be fireworks when the subject came up, and if I had a crystal ball, I would’ve predicted Mom was going to lose her mind and her religion on me when I gave her the news. It was just a meet and greet, but I was pushing the limits, especially when she’d already said no.
    By Friday afternoon, I had the pastures in good shape and had fixed the two fences that had been in need of minor repair. Stephan had called in a few favors with some of his friends and their relatives to come help with the bridge. The worst part was going to be for the ones having to work from below in the ice cold water.

    Mom left for work early Saturday morning, and the men started showing up about fifteen minutes later. I was pleasantly surprised at how organized they were and how prepared they came, waders included.
    We used the tractor to push some of the brush close to the bridge and started a controlled burn. As they pulled the wood from the bridge, they added it to the bonfire, and it helped keep everyone warm as they worked.
    Not much in the way of conversation, it looked more like an assembly line of workers just going to and fro. By sundown, they guys had completed the bridge, and I couldn’t have been more grateful.
    I’d offered to cook for them, but they insisted on going home. I didn’t know how to thank them.
    Stephan sat with me on the porch and smoked his cigarette. A habit I never realized how much I hated until that