Page 17 of More Than This Land

The report would confirm it. Had to.

He settled deeper into his office chair, the leather creaking under his weight, and started reading.

By page three, his coffee had gone cold.

By page seven, his free hand had curled into a fist on the desk.

By the final page, heat crawled up the back of his neck and his vision narrowed to the words in front of him.

Efficiency-focused management has resulted in measurable profit increases. However, qualitative data suggests significant erosion of community goodwill and long-term relational capital.

Luke forced himself to keep reading even as his pulse hammered in his ears.

His jaw ached from clenching. He rolled his shoulders back, trying to release the tension building in his neck.

Recommendation: Implement a phased approach to restore community relationships while maintaining fiscal responsibility. Profitability and generosity are not mutually exclusive when strategically integrated.

The words blurred together. Luke shoved back from the desk and stood, pacing to the window that overlooked the south pasture. What did she mean “implement a phased approach to restore community relationships”? They had great relationships with the community.

Didn’t they?

He stared over the ranch, barely seeing but taking note of the professional-looking grounds. Cattle grazed in neat rotational patterns. Fences held strong. Equipment sat organized and maintained.

Everything looked exactly as it should.

So why did his stomach twist like he’d swallowed something rotten?

The office door opened without warning. Graham stuck his head in, his reflection in the window a grinning caricature. “Dad’s calling a ranch meeting tonight. Six o’clock. Bring your spreadsheets and your sense of humor.”

“Not in the mood, Graham.”

“When are you ever?” His brother stepped fully into the room, letting the door swing shut. “What’s got you looking like you chewed barbed wire?”

Luke gestured at the report without turning from the window. “Claire’s analysis.”

Graham crossed to the desk and picked up the document, flipping through pages. He whistled low. “She doesn’t pull punches.”

“She’s wrong.” The words scraped coming out. She had to be wrong. Please, Lord, let her be wrong. I can’t…His prayer faltered. He couldn't do what? Couldn’t stand being wrong? How insulting.

“Is she?” Graham set the report down and closed the folder. “From where I’m standing, she’s saying what we’ve been thinking for months.”

Luke whirled to face his brother. His hands flexed at his sides. “You think I’ve been running this ranch into the ground?”

“I think you’ve been running it scared.” His brother held his gaze without flinching. “There’s a difference between being strategic and being closed off. You’ve crossed that line.”

“I’m protecting what matters.”

“By pushing away everyone who might help?” Graham moved toward the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. “Dad wants to talk about Claire’s findings tonight. Might want to prepare yourself for some honest conversation.”

After Graham left, Luke returned to his chair. He picked up the report. Set it down. Picked it up again. Read it once more, his jaw working like he had a mouthful of that barbed wire Graham mentioned. Each pass made his stomach clench tighter, made his breathing shallower.

Numbers didn’t lie, but Claire’s interpretation of those numbers felt like betrayal.

By six o’clock, Luke had worked himself into a defensive fury that he tried to mask as professional disagreement. He’d defend his decisions, if necessary, but he held tight to his convictions. He’d only done what was best for the ranch.

His brothers gathered around the long table in the ranch’s main conference room. Dad sat at the head, reading glasses perched on his nose as he reviewed Claire’s report. Mom brought in coffee and her famous oatmeal cookies, the comfort food she always offered when difficult conversations loomed.

Dad removed his glasses and set them on the table. “I asked Claire to prepare this analysis because I’m concerned about some changes I’ve seen over the past eighteen months. I wanted an outside perspective.”