Erin pushed to her feet and paced in a tight circle. Then she sat back down. “I hate you sometimes.”

“I know. You’re not an easy nut to crack, and sometimes I have to be a little mean to make you see things without wearing your father-colored glasses. Becoming a police officer was a big deal to you. Wasn’t it?”

“I wanted to be good at it, so yes.”

“Because that was what your father wanted. Right? So, tell me, Erin. What does your dad think about you turning in your badge and becoming a rancher?”

“Beats me. I haven’t told him yet.”

“When you do tell him, how do you think he’ll react?”

“He’ll be furious because I’ve thrown my life away.”

Jonas tapped a pen on the blotter. “Correction. You’ve thrown away the life he wanted you to have. And now you’re having issues with ranch work and your supervisor because his complaints about your performance all seem stupid.”

Erin clenched her teeth.

“Are you seeing the parallel I’m trying to draw?” Jonas asked.

“Like I said, subtlety isn’t your strong suit. You’re saying that becoming a good deputy was all-important to me, because that’s what my father wanted, and becoming a rancher isn’t all-important to me, because that isn’t what my father wants.”

He nodded. “So the question you need to ask yourself is, do you really want to be a good rancher?”

“I feel at peace doing that kind of work.” She hesitated and then backed up mentally. “Well, I did feel at peace. Not so much now.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Because I’m facing a double standard. Every time I turn around, I’m told that I should do this or that differently from the way men are doing it. Not because I can’t do it the regular way, but because I’m a woman.” Erin gestured behind her. “Line up a hundred women and ask them how pissed off they’d be if they were treated that way. I’m not second-rate. I don’t need a special set of rules just because I’m a female.”

“Do you see any of the men walking up behind a horse without letting it know they’re there?”

“No. But none of the horses ever kick, either. They’re wonderful animals. I’m still getting used to them, but I can see myself becoming a big fan of equines with time. I just need to get over being scared of them first.”

Jonas turned to his computer and swiveled the monitor so she could see it. He typed something in the search line, clicked the mouse button a couple more times, and images popped up on the screen. Photographs of people with awful bruises and wounds. Erin hadn’t seen anything that gory since leaving her law enforcement job up north.

Jonas enlarged an image of a woman with the center of her face mutilated. “Kicked by a horse,” he said. Then he clicked on an image of a man that was nearly as awful. “Kicked by a horse.”