Rodeo Baby. Mary Sullivan

      Hope and potential all rolled into one, it stood in the weak March sunlight proudly declaring “If I can be saved, so can the rest of this old place.”

      A powerful sentiment.

      “It’s got really weird animals,” Chelsea said, but he detected no disdain.

      “You’re right. Is that a bull?”

      “Yeah, and a couple of sheep.”

      “Bighorn sheep, I’m pretty sure.”

      “There’s a bison! And a cow.” She giggled, the sound sweet on the cool breeze. “What are those?”

      “An elk and two white-tailed deer.”

      “Their saddles are so beautiful. So ornate. I want to ride all of them.” She peered up at him. “Will we still be here when the fair is on?”

      Apparently, they planned to launch in August and it was only March. Sam’s next business venture started in one month. He had only thirty days to get this problem sorted out so he could hightail it home.

      No way was he losing out on the opportunity to make serious money with his new investment firm, Carmichael, Jones and Raven. Between the three partners, their experience totaled fifty years. Sam planned to take the industry by storm.

      If, along the way, he showed up his ex-wife and father-in-law and the company they’d wrestled away from him during the divorce, all the better. Answering Chelsea’s question about attending the fair, he said, “It isn’t likely, possum.”

      His nickname for his daughter slipped out before thought or caution. For some reason, as a little girl, Chelsea had taken a liking to Dame Edna and had giggled every time possum was used as an endearment.

      Sam had called her possum once and she’d rolled on the floor laughing. The name had stuck.

      Sometimes at night, he could hear her accessing YouTube on her laptop and watching old shows she must know by heart.

      Entranced by the carousel, she didn’t call him to task for the nickname she, these days, called stupid.

      “I don’t know what’s going to happen here.”

      “If you have your way, there won’t even be a fair.” How could one young girl hold so much bitterness? Had the divorce harmed her beyond repair?

      He hoped not, with a fierceness that shocked him.

      “You know what? This place looks bad now, but I can see the potential. I can see what Gramps and his father built.”

      Chelsea nodded. “Yeah, it must have been really cool years ago.”

      “I agree.” Dad must have spent a fair bit of time every summer working here. Then he’d walked away from it all and never looked back.

      Sam couldn’t get enough of the place. He could stand here for hours checking it out. Even better, he’d like to walk the land. It might be derelict now, but it must have been magical in its day.

      “I should ask Gramps if I can get in to look around.”

      “Can I come, too?”

      “Of course.”

      Sighing, he straightened away from the fence.

      “Let’s go visit Gramps and then find this ranch I’m supposed to be working on.”

      Chelsea snorted. He ignored it. It had been a long trip. He’d had plenty of practice ignoring her.

      On second thought...

      He pulled out the change purse, opened it and held it out to her. “Snorting.”

      “It’s not really snorting, Dad,” she said in her best disdainful teenage voice. “Nobody really snorts.”

      Sam imitated a pig by letting out a huge snort. Chelsea tried not to giggle.

      “I don’t walk around sounding like a pig. It’s more like humphing.”

      “I know, but it has the same effect. Lack of respect. Pay up.”

      She snorted again, rummaged in her pocket and came up with a quarter.