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as much for years. “But—what about the girls?” This land was their heritage, their birthright. But then an ugly suspicion rose up in her. Unlike her father who had made no secret of his disappointment in fathering four daughters, Wes had never seemed to care that they had no sons. After the twins were born he’d agreed with her that their family was complete. “Would you be saying this if we had a son?”
    “Of course... Hell, Mattie, that’s not what this is about.”
    She was relieved to hear that. But only for a second. She was beginning to see that he’d been thinking about this a long time, and by the firm set of his jaw, he’d already made up his mind.
    Without any discussion with her.
    This was not how their marriage worked. At least, up until now it wasn’t.
    “But, how will we earn our living? We have four years of college to pay for.”
    “Only because you pushed the girls to go. I still don’t know why. Neither of us went—and we did just fine.”
    The further education of their daughters had been a no-brainer to her. With Wren, it hadn’t been an issue. She’d been excited to go, had already picked out a program at the University of Colorado. Portia, however, had required some persuading.
    Mattie had been shocked when Wes sided with Portia, and they had argued privately for over a week. “Let her learn a trade, instead,” Wes had said. “She could be a hairdresser or work in one of those nails places. I see them everywhere I go.”
    Finally he’d backed down and gone silent on the subject, leaving her to persuade her lovely, less academic daughter that secondary education these days was a must.
    But all of this had taken place a year ago. She wasn’t going to let him pull her back into that argument now.
    “Even if the girls could fund college on their own—what about us? How will we support ourselves, not to mention save for our retirement? It’s not like we have a big nest egg set aside.” Making payments to registered plans had never seemed important. After all, they weren’t yet forty.
    “The proceeds from the ranch will be enough to take care of the girls.” Wes hesitated. “And you.”
    Mattie stared at him. Finally he was looking at her, too, and his eyes didn’t look like Wes’s anymore. They were cold and distant as a stranger’s.
    Understanding hit her like a bullet. She gasped, felt a physical pain explode in her gut. This must be what it’s like to die. You’re living your life—and suddenly you aren’t.
    When he didn’t say anything, she was forced to put words to the awful thing.
    “You want to sell the ranch. A-and you want to leave me.”
    He moved restlessly from the window, to the sofa, where he straightened a cushion before shifting to the fireplace. Resting one hand on the walnut mantel, he turned back to look at her. “Yeah.”
    Mattie clasped her arms around her torso, feeling a wintery chill, and also, a sense that this simply couldn’t be happening.
    It was only last Christmas that she and Wes had sat in this very room talking about their future, once the twins were off to college. One more year of rodeoing, he’d promised her, and then he’d have more time to dedicate to the ranch and more time for her. Maybe they’d take a few trips—see a bit of the world outside the continental US.
    Was he going through some sort of midlife crisis?
    “Is this about Dex’s accident last spring?”
    In May a cowboy had been killed in the rodeo ring in Texas. Dex Cooper had been a bull-rider, competing in the same event as Wes. Mattie had found out about the death online, when she was checking for her husband’s scores. A video of the accident had even been posted on YouTube, but she hadn’t watched. It appalled her that people filmed these things—and then, rather than deleting them, actually put them on the Internet for other people to view.
    Who were these other people who got such thrills out of tragedy?
    Reading about the incident had been horrible