“Yeah,” he said. “And it’s on the lowest setting, so if it gets colder, you can turn it up.” He grinned at Ty, and then Winnie. “Thanks for coming, you guys. I know it’s kind of ridiculous, but Bronco is our last and he’ll only turn one once.”
At least that was what Caroline had told him when she’d proposed this idea of having a huge shindig for Bronco’s first birthday. If everyone did this for their children, they’d be going to parties every other day.
“I love a good party,” Winnie said.
“Yeah, she does,” Ty deadpanned, and Dawson saw two more opposites standing in front of him. Hey, he and Caroline had made it work so far, and so did plenty of other people.
Winnie wore bright purple pants with a black plaid woven through them, and a white sweater. She carried a wrapped present that had construction trucks all over it. “Caroline said the present table was out here.” She glanced around. “But I don’t see it.”
“It’s at the bottom of the steps,” Dawson said, reaching for it. “I can take it. You didn’t have to bring anything.”
“Coming through,” Duke called, and the three of them made way for him. He carried an overflowing laundry basket of gifts, all of which had been bagged or wrapped in blue paper of some kind.
“What is happening?” Dawson asked.
“My wife and our mother,” Duke grumped at him. “I have another basket like this in my truck.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I can assure you, I’m not.”
Ty chuckled, and Dawson swung his attention to him. “Aren’t families great?”
Dawson’s disbelief and slight irritation melted away. “Yeah,” he said, listening to a round of laughter from inside, and turning toward the excited calls of the children out by the fence.
Everywhere he looked, he found someone he loved—and someone who loved him.
“Yeah,” he said. “Families are the best.”
And things only got better when Caroline announced, “We’re having cake first, everyone! Cake! First!” She moved by him and waved her arm to everyone out in the yard. “Come on up here and let’s sing for Bronco, and then we’ll eat.”
16
Finley Ackerman adjusted the thermostat in the conference room at the IFA, grateful the heater would kick on before anyone arrived. Outside, the January wind howled against the windows, but at least the first major snowstorm of the season had finally passed through. He’d spent the better part of the last week checking on cattle at his family’s much larger ranch, reinforcing his own fallen fences, and making sure every animal on his small hobby farm had shelter, food, and water.
Now, as he arranged chairs around the long table, the familiar anticipation that came with these monthly meetings ran rampant through him. The third Thursday had become sacred to him, this time when the small ranch owners around town gathered to share their struggles, celebrate their victories, and support one another through the unpredictability of working the land, raising a family, and dealing with aging parents, Mother Nature, and each other.
The door opened, and Alex pressed it all the way against the wall, toeing the doorstop into place with one boot. “Morning,” he said. “I don’t think people will have a problem gettingin.”
“No?” Finn set the last chair in place. “The plows have been out?”
“Yep. Salt and sand everywhere.” Alex didn’t sound too happy about that, but they both drove four-wheel-drive trucks, as they had to dig themselves off their farms when the snow came.
“We still might have a smaller crowd today.” Finn gestured toward the coffee station. “But there’s always coffee, and Link did text that he was still planning on bringing lunch.”
He just wanted Jake Ahlstrom to come, and if the roads were bad, he might not make the drive from Three Rivers Ranch. Finn had grown up out there, and it was forty-five minutes to town on the brightest, sunniest day.
On a day that had snow blowing across the road? One might choose to stay home instead of coming to the ranch owners’ meeting.
Jake had already been hesitant about it, because he didn’t own a ranch. But working as the new head veterinarian on a massive cattle ranch qualified him to come, as they often talked about livestock and other animal care needs.
Finn had told him all of that, but he hadn’t seemed convinced until Libby had said she’d love to see Jake at the meetings. “I have a hard time managing everything,” Libby said. “I’m going to ask our general controller to come too, and if you were there, we’d have all three corners of our operation in-the-know.”
Jake still hadn’t committed to attending, but Finn had included him on the reminder text he’d sent to everyone for this morning’s meeting.
“Oh, good, the door is open,” someone said, and Finn looked up as Wilder started backing through the doorway. “We’ve got breakfast burritos for lunch.”
He carried a heavy-duty tin foil tray with gloved hands, and Link came stutter-stepping in after him, holding the other end of the tray. From what Finn could see, individually wrapped burritos had been stacked inside, each of them in shiny aluminum foil.
