"I'm not." Sarah's smile deepens, and there's something almost conspiratorial in her expression. "I'm here for you, Miss Rose. For your particular skills as a lobbyist and strategist. Would you have time to discuss a project that might interest you?"
Ah, a politician. “What, exactly, are you proposing?”
"It’s simple," Sarah says, settling against the barn wall. "I need someone to lobby for cowboys."
I lead Rebel into her stall, checking the automatic waterer and shaking out fresh hay while Sarah continues. "Our way of life is disappearing while bureaucrats decide what's best for the land that's never touched their boots."
"There are organizations who could help you." She should know what's available and what resources are out there. I latch the stall door and move to the feed room, Sarah following. "For example, the PACs with decades of experience—"
"And speak in statistics and policy papers." Sarah leans against the doorframe, her voice carrying quiet conviction. "I need someone who understands that when we lose grazing access, we're not just losing economic opportunity. We're losing the knowledge of how to read weather in a horse's ears, or how to manage land the way it was meant to be managed.”
I measure grain into Rebel's bucket as I process Sarah's words. The description resonates. "How'd you hear about me?" I'm curious. Because what drew her all the way outhere will tell me as much about what she stands for as the heirloom necklace she wears.
"Your work on the Colorado Water Rights Reform Bill," Sarah replies , following as I return to Rebel's stall. "I want you because your experience gives you the credentials, but your life gives you the credibility.” She gestures around the barn.
"I’m officially intrigued," I admit.
She grins.
"What’s at stake?"
Sarah reaches into her purse and pulls out a file folder. "On a national level? Government overreach. There’s always someone who wants to make it hard to be a rancher—I want someone who will stand up to them.”
I accept the folder and scan the documents. My mind immediately begins organizing the challenges: coalition building, timing legislative pushes, identifying pressure points within existing regulatory frameworks. I feel something shift inside of me. This is the kind of job where I could make a difference.
"How long are we talking about?"
"As long as it takes." Sarah's smile holds both determination and something that looks like hope. "The job would be based in Gritstone, Colorado," Sarah says, watching me hang up the lead rope. "It's a small ranching community about two hours south of Denver. The kind of place where everyone knows everyone."
Gritstone. My hands still.
"My dad lives there." The admission escapes before I can stop it, carrying twenty-seven years of abandonment in four simple words. I turn away immediately, straightening haltersthat are already perfect, annoyed at my own reaction. Why does the thought of my father create this tightness in my chest when he's never been present enough to matter?
"Well, that's—" Sarah begins.
"It doesn't matter." I cut her off, rebuilding my professional facade. "The location is fine. Actually strategic—rural enough to understand the issues, close enough to Denver for legislative access." I face Sarah again, expression neutral. "What kind of timeline are we looking at?"
Sarah studies me for a moment before allowing the redirect. "My husband, Oscar, and I anticipate six months, with potential for extension based on results. There are immediate issues to address and some long-term ones. We can plant seeds now and harvest later. It might be slightly complicated."
"I can handle complicated." Even as I say it, my fingers worry the edge of the folder. I wish I could understand why the idea of being in the same town as my father makes me feel unsettled. If it's a small town, I will probably see him. The notion makes me queasy, and I shove it as far down inside my brain as I can.
"Would I be able to bring my horse?" I don't want my mom to take over her training. Rebel’s my first investment and I need to prove that I can turn a profit on her. I check the latch on Rebel's door to make sure it's locked.
"Of course," Sarah agrees, watching the unconscious intimacy between woman and horse with knowing eyes. "Stonegate Ranch has everything you'll need."
I nod, satisfied that the practical concerns are addressed. "It sounds like a great opportunity.”
"How soon can you start?" Sarah asks.
"A couple of weeks?" I shrug as my schedule plays through my mind. "Maybe ten days. I'll need to make some arrangements, but I think I can make it work."
"The sooner the better. I'll email you the details and a contract." Sarah smiles and while she's confident and aggressive, there's something calming about her.
“I’ll walk you out,” I offer. I think I’ll like working for her and I’m excited about the challenge she brought to my door.
"Your mother has quite a reputation," Sarah pauses to look at the seasoned mare, Hello Lainey, one of mom’s top performers. "The name Callie Rose means something in barrel racing circles. What she's built here is impressive."
I feel a familiar flicker of pride, the kind that comes from being associated with excellence. "She's worked hard for it."