His one good eye tracks my movement. His ears flick forward.
“Big day,” I tell him. “You ready?”
He huffs, which I choose to interpret as agreement.
Miss Maggie appears from the tack room, Captain Winky’s saddle over her arm. “There’s my girl. You look beautiful.”
“I look like I’m about to throw up.”
“Wedding day nerves. Perfectly normal.” She winks. “Let’s get this handsome boy ready.”
Together, we saddle Captain Winky. My hands are steadier than I expected. Three days of practice, of falling and getting back on, of learning to trust this animal who has every reason not to trust anyone—have made me braver than I knew I could be.
“Daniel’s out there,” Miss Maggie says as she adjusts the girth. “Looking like he’s about to crawl out of his skin. That boy doesn’t do well with waiting.”
“He’s going to have to wait a little longer.”
She grins. “That’s my girl.”
I lead Captain Winky to the barn door and peek out. The ceremony space spreads before me—the big oak tree draped with simple white fabric, chairs arranged in two sections, flowers everywhere. Ruth’s garden, Kitty told me. Everything from Ruth’s garden.
Both Sutton families are present. Jacob on one side, ramrod straight, his expression unreadable. Ben on the other, softer somehow, his eyes crinkling when Tom whispers something to him. Angus sits with Luna, a protective arm around her shoulder. Henry’s gaze is fixed on his wife, Shay, and their newborn son, Max.
And at the altar—if you can call a spot under an oak tree an altar—Daniel.
My breath catches.
He’s wearing dark pants, white shirt, no tie because this is still a ranch wedding and he’s still Daniel Sutton. His hair is neat for once, his jaw freshly shaved. He looks uncomfortable and beautiful and like every cowboy fantasy I never let myself have.
Ethan stands beside him as best man, saying something that makes Daniel’s jaw tighten. Gabriel hovers nearby, looking young and uncertain.
Everyone is facing the house. Waiting for me to walk down the porch steps.
In less than half an hour, he’ll be my husband.
But right now, I’m going to ride his horse toward him like I’ve been doing it my whole life.
Please, God, don’t let me fall off.
“Ready?” Miss Maggie asks.
I swing up into the saddle. My thighs protest—still bruised from the falls—but I ignore them. Captain Winky shifts beneath me, settling into my weight.
“Ready.”
The music changes. Some acoustic version of a song I don’t recognize, played through speakers Kitty set up this morning.
Everyone turns toward the house.
I nudge Captain Winky forward.
We round the corner of the barn, and no one sees us at first. They’re all looking in the wrong direction, waiting for a bride who isn’t coming from where they expect.
Then someone gasps. Then another.
Daniel turns.
I watch his composure shatter in real time. Confusion first—why is someone on a horse? Recognition second—that’s Captain Winky. And then, as his brain catches up to what his eyes are seeing?—
