“If it would have done any good, I would have. When your mother and I made the decision to sell the land, we engaged a real estate broker in Helena to list it. It turned out she was on Jonathan Bridger’s payroll.”

I’m confused. “I don’t understand.”

“We didn’t know it at the time, but she was working with Bridger to purchase as much land adjacent to his ranch as possible. She told us the offer was a good one, so we believed her, but we found out later that Bridger paid us only a little over half of what our property is worth.”

I drop my mouth open. “Wait. You don’t own this place? Why are we still living here?”

“I’m renting. One of the few perks of being mayor is that the city pays for my housing. Mom and I didn’t want to leave our home, so the city attorney made a deal with Bridger that we could stay in the house. But we don’t own it, and we can’t use any of our property for ranching.”

“I don’t understand.” I shake my head. “How could any of this happen? Your broker acted in bad faith. Don’t you have some kind of remedy?”

“Sure. The law is on our side, but how would we pay an attorney to fight this? Bridger has unlimited funds. He’d have sent us to the poorhouse.”

I shake my head. “Daddy, that was Jonathan Bridger. Not his sons.”

Dad clenches his jaw, and his earlier softened features are now hardened. “I’ve said it before. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, little one.”

I meet my father’s tired gaze. “So you ran for mayor for a paycheck?”

He sniffs. “Yes and no. We’re not broke, but we were robbed. Now we’re renters on our own land.”

I’m sure there’s more he’s not telling me, as if he’s forcefully holding the words back. My mom’s quiet beside him. She doesn’t offer up any more information.

Dad can’t make much in such a small town. There must be some other reason.

“So I need you to leave that position, Carly,” he says. “The Bridger family has taken enough from us.”

“This isn’t them taking from us. This is them giving. They gave me a job. A job doing what I love to do, taking care of animals. The money can help pay bills you have.”

“I don’t want any more Bridger money,” he snaps. “You can take care of animals somewhere else. This is Bayfield. There are ranches everywhere.”

“But they have amazing animals. I won’t get that kind of experience anywhere else in the whole state of Montana!”

Dad forks a piece of meatloaf, takes a bite, chews, swallows. Then he looks at me calmly. “This discussion is over. You will give your notice in the morning.”

Dad’s issues with Jonathan Bridger are unfortunate. I’m mad for him. Angry. But the man’s dead. I know Chance. I grew up with him. He protected me like a big brother from Austin. I don’t know Miles much at all, but I am knowing more and more about Austin. He doesn’t like Jonathan Bridger any more than my dad does.