Rosa’s POV
I watched as another piece of my past was erased. The store room had held more than records, it held memories of my father and me. It was where I learned about currency exchange, and about balancing sheets and keeping accounts. My father used to sit me down there, his voice calm and patient, as he explained why numbers mattered.
“Because the ranch will expand beyond this town someday,” he’d said, “and it’ll be under your care.”
Now that promise burned with the building.
My chest ached as flames licked greedily at the structure. Father had always believed in me that I would take over the ranch. But I had left. And in my absence, everything was falling apart.
The fire department arrived too late. Water hit the flames, hissing uselessly, but nothing could be saved. When the s
