Chapter 3 Triage

Next, she started making calls. She dialed her corporate attorney, David Chen, a sharp-suited man with a mind like a steel trap. “David, it’s Sierra Quinn. I have an urgent, personal matter. My father… he’s incapacitated. His ranch is facing foreclosure. What’s the fastest way to assess the financial viability and legal options in Arizona?”

David’s calm, measured voice came through the line. “Sierra, I’m sorry to hear that. We’d need details. Exact figures on the debt, current assets, any outstanding liens, and the nature of the bank’s threats. And it is crucial that we have a clear understanding of your father’s legal capacity. Is he of sound mind to make decisions, or would a power of attorney be necessary?” He rattled off a list of documents and information she’d need, ending with, “Without boots on the ground, Sierra, it’s all speculation. Get me the data, and I’ll connect you with our Arizona legal team.”

“Understood,” Sierra replied, her jaw tight. Data. She needed data. Where was she going to get data?Sierra's next call was to a commercial real estate contact, Marcus Thomas, known for his ability to move properties quickly, even distressed ones. “Marcus, Sierra Quinn. Hypothetically, what’s the current market for a struggling cattle ranch of about 5,000 acres in rural Arizona, specifically near Kingman? Rapid sale, distressed asset scenario.”

"A rare interest for you, Sierra. Are you going into ranching?" he asked. She could hear his smile over the phone.

"It belongs to my father. He has fallen into some..." She considered her words carefully. "He's considering retirement."

"You came from a ranch in Arizona?" Marcus mused. "Never pegged you for the cowgirl type."

"Just get me the info." She spoke in a no nonsense tone, then considered that she might need Marcus in the future. "Please."

Marcus hummed thoughtfully. She could hear the loud click of computer keys as he typed in the information. “Sage Ranch. Good land, but… struggling. It all kind of depends on the inventory, the condition of the infrastructure, and any water rights that might be included. A quick sale wouldn’t fetch top dollar, especially with a bank breathing down your neck. You’d be looking at a significant buzzcut at auction. You need to stabilize it before you can even think about maximizing value. You’ll need a local appraiser, someone to assess the equipment, the livestock, and the grazing situation. And frankly, someone who understands ranch operations, which is really not my thing.”

Stabilize it. That sent another spike of resentment through her. She was supposed to stabilize it? She, who had fled the dust and drudgery of ranch life for the gleaming towers of finance? The sheer injustice of it all chafed, the sudden imposition of responsibilities she had long ago renounced.

Finally, she called a financial turnaround specialist she sometimes consulted for struggling clients, a stern woman named Beth James. “Beth, Sierra Quinn. I have a potential personal project involving a failing agricultural business. Initial assessment indicates high debt, low liquidity, and loss of primary operator. What’s the first step for a rapid overhaul and potential sale?”

Beth, pragmatic as ever, cut straight to the chase. “You need a forensic audit, Sierra. Yesterday. Where is the money going? What are the expenses that can be cut immediately? Are there any hidden assets? Is there any revenue stream that can be salvaged or boosted? And who is going to implement these changes? Turning around a failing ranch isn’t done from a skyscraper balcony, darling. You need to be there.”

"You need to be there." The words summarized the essence of all three conversations. They were a persistent, unwelcome refrain. It was becoming painfully clear that she was facing a situation that she could not manage from Manhattan, with a few well-placed calls and a spreadsheet. She needed to get her own hands dirty. She needed to see her father, yes, but more than that, she needed to see the ranch. Make an on-the-ground assessment, as David had put it. To see with her own eyes the extent of the damage. To quantify the burden. Her unspoken intention solidified: fix it, sell it, and get out. Quickly.

She took another deep breath, the resentment still simmering, but now overlaid with a cold, surgical determination. This was a challenge, a strategic problem. She could and she would conquer it. She would descend upon Sage Ranch, surgically cut out whatever cancer was eating away at it, and then leave it behind, getting her father’s finances stabilized and closing that chapter of her life for good.

Her phone buzzed, a text from Cody: “Are you coming? Dad keeps asking for you. He’s pretty out of it.”

Sierra’s lips thinned. Her father, the impenetrable force, now vulnerable, was asking for her. The thought sent a fresh wave of guilt mixed with a strange, protective impulse she hadn’t felt in years. She hadn’t spoken to him in depth since Thanksgiving the year before, a stilted conversation about the weather and her "city life," which he always seemed to regard with a mixture of pride and disapproval. She knew the ranch was still his whole world, and seeing it threatened must be tearing him apart.

She dialed Cody’s number. He answered on the first ring, his voice still ragged. “What are we going to do, Si?”

“We’re going to handle it, Cody,” she said, her voice firm, stripped of all emotion save for a steely resolve. “I’m coming to Arizona. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Can you find all the financial records for the ranch and have them ready for me: Bank statements, loan documents, and anything related to the ranch’s income and expenses from the last two years. And I need a full inventory of livestock and equipment. Start gathering it now.”

Cody sounded momentarily stunned. “You’re coming? Really? But… you hate the ranch.”

“It’s not about what I hate, Cody,” she retorted, a sharp edge to her tone. “It’s about what needs to be done. And I’m going to do it. Keep Dad as comfortable as possible. I’ll make sure the bank doesn’t take Sage Ranch. Not yet.” The unspoken promise, "we’ll sell it on our own terms," hung unspoken in the air.

She hung up before Cody could respond, already moving on to the next task.