That it was going to happen was a certainty; Ryan had accepted that. The only question left was which revelation would devastate his father more: learning that the ranch that had been in the family for generations—the ranch he thought would one day be passed down to his son—was about to be seized by the bank and sold, or finding out that it was Ryan who bore the responsibility. That he had borrowed the money and put the property into debt and then spent the next four years trying to cover it all up. What would his father say? How would he react? How would a man so fragile and vulnerable, a man whose body had already conspired against him in the past by way of inflicting a catastrophic stroke, bear the weight of such news?

Just imagining the possible repercussions made Ryan feel so sick to his stomach that he didn’t notice when Peggy, the hotel proprietor, whom he had spoken with on occasion whenever he stopped by to restock flyers for the ranch, greeted him from the other side of the bar.

“Why, hello there, young Ryan.”

“Peggy—um, hi.”

“I must say, this is a surprise.” She slid a giant clamshell filled with an assortment of salty nuts in his direction.

“Oh?” he said distantly, still trying to wrangle back his thoughts. “Why’s that?”

“Only because I don’t think I’ve ever seen you come into our fine establishment this late in the evenin’, and certainly never without a stack of flyers in your hands.” She grabbed a wet tumbler from a rack and started twisting a rag inside it while fixing him with a stare. “You know, math was never my thing, but even I can put two and two together and see you’ve got the look of a man with something on his mind.”

“It’s just been one of those days,” Ryan lied, manufacturing a smile, one that he hoped would mask any evidence of the turmoil going on inside his head.

“We all have ’em,” Peggy said as she reached for a nearby bottle. She twisted the cap and poured a glass of amber liquid. “Here, see if this’ll make you feel better.”

It didn’t. Seconds after taking a sip, Ryan experienced what he could only describe as a caustic trail of fire blazing down the back of his throat, followed by a spirited bout of coughing.

“Whoa there, cowboy! You okay?”

Ryan pushed the glass aside. He felt ridiculous, even a little embarrassed. What exactly was he trying to accomplish? Here he was trying to distract himself from his problems at home, when all this was doing was making him miss the ranch and his father more. He coughed again more forcefully before sliding off the stool.

Peggy looked at him. “Everythin’ all right?”

“Everything’s fine. I just need to be getting home.”