Dahn was doing well atop the old gray gelding. Baker had been right. Persimmon was the chillest horse I had ever seen. Nothing seemed to bother him. He was just happy plodding along beside Upton, a red Appaloosa with a placid demeanor who was also enjoying the slow pace. Not even a rooster pheasant flushingwith a cackle not five feet from their hooves had startled the two geldings.
The air was warm now, moist with increasing humidity, and sweat beaded on our brows. Birds were everywhere, darting around us as the horses kicked up small bugs. Honeybees flew from wildflower to wildflower to gather pollen. The sky was baby-blanket blue with nary a cloud to be seen. A gentle breeze blew into our faces as we neared the overlook for the cabin that had been leveled by that spring tornado. Upton shifted slightly under me as we watched the workmen that Baker had found on the rez putting on the final touches of cabin one. The other line cabins peppered around the acres that still belonged to us were ready to roll. Bella was in charge of adding nice touches to the rustic, soon-to-be rentals.
“We’ll have to thank Ollie for recommending those men. They’re really doing a great job,” I said as if I were sitting next to Baker or Ford or Linc and not a ten-year-old who couldn’t care less about costs and invoices and income.
“Bella said she has curtains made for the cabins. And Granny has some rugs made from rags,” Dahn replied, sitting on his horse as if he had been born in the saddle. “Bella is awesome.”
“Yes, she is,” I agreed and waved a hand at a nosy bumblebee checking out Upton’s ear. I took a breath before opening up this can of worms. “So, your dad and I had that in-person visit yesterday back home.”
“Well, it’s not really home. You guys sold our house.” His sight was locked on the workers below adding trim to the tiny front porch of what I mentally called the Dorothy Gale cabin. We’d figure out a more fitting name once they were all completed, hopefully by the end of September, just in time for fall tourists to arrive.
“Right, we did, and that’s upsetting, I know, but we have a new temporary home now.” I didn’t want to veer into my thoughtsabout buying a house in Bastian Grange. Dahn could not sleep on a sofa forever despite his assurances that he totally could. “Sometimes life takes us to different places, and we have to leave things and people behind. Like we did with the old house and your friends in Sacramento. I know that was hard on you, but I think living here on the ranch is making up for it, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess. There are lots of kids doing cool summer stuff at the rec center during the week. Can we check them out soon? I signed up for a few things online, but they need money. I signed up for a twirling class and an ag class.”
“Awesome. Those are great picks. Bella will be a lot of help with the batons. We’ll head to town tomorrow after chores so you can meet some of the kids you’ll be going to school with in the fall,” I quickly agreed. Maybe I could get that taillight problem fixed and run to the sheriff’s office while Dahn was in a class at the rec center. Seeing Ollie Ahoka was never a bad way to spend an hour. “So, sometimes moving to a new place works out. Your dad had some big news to tell me yesterday. He’s going to go back to playing football.”
Dahn looked at me, the sun shielded from his eyes by his favorite tan cowboy hat. I could see his thin brows knotted.
“But he’s so old…”
I nearly choked. Kids were brutally honest. “He’s quite mature for the game, but he seems to think he has a few more years in him. Which is great, and we’re going to support him, right?”
“Yeah, sure, just seems dumb.”
It does to me too, my sweet child.
“The only big problem with his return to his sport is that he’s going to be playing football in Spain.”
“Spain. Like Mexico?” Dahn asked, his confusion apparent.
“No, Spain as in Europe, near France and Italy. They do speak Spanish, but it’s not exactly the same Spanish as they speak in Mexico.”
He puzzled that over as his expression grew sadder. “That’s a long way away. Am I going to go live in Spain for school, or am I going to go here like we said?”
“You’ll be going here, Dahn, just like we planned. Dad is just not going to be able to see you as much since it’s so far away, and he’ll be very busy with football and Topher, so he’s being very thoughtful about things, I think. He’s saying that he’s going to let me have full custody so you can settle in here with no worries about having to move again. That’s pretty nice of him, don’t you think?”
Not choking on all of those sugary words about my ex was tough, but I held fast.
“So, will he ever want to see me?”
I nearly lost it. The tone of his voice was so damn sad. “Yes, of course! He so badly wants to see you as often as he can. And we’ll work out when you can go visit him in Spain. I hear it’s beautiful there!”
“Why is he giving me to you? Is he tired of being my dad?”
Oh shit. I reached over to grab his hand, the reins lying between his fingers slipping slightly. “Dahn, no, son, he is not tired of being your dad.”
“Seems like it.”
“No, that’s not the case at all.” I gave his thin fingers a squeeze. “Dahn, look at me.” He shifted his sorrowful brown sight from his horse’s ears to me. “Your dad is not tired of being your father. Sometimes things happen in life that result in having to make changes. People get new jobs, marriages start or sometimes end, or people pass away. Sometimes people just need a change, for whatever reason. Many times just to be happy. Like us moving from the city to out here on the ranch. We made a change for a better way of life. Your dad is trying to find himself again. I think he missed playing football more than he wanted to admit, and this is his way to find some happiness.”
“I think it’s not a good way. He’ll get hurt.” The boy was close to tears, his bottom lip quivering even though he was battling off crying with all he had.
“He might. But he wants to try, and he thinks that will make him happy, so we have to do our best to be supportive. Like everyone is supporting your twirling and goat showing. That’s only fair, right? To be encouraging of his new life choices.”
“Whatever. He can go to Spain if he wants. I don’t even care. I want to go home now.” He yanked his hand from mine, turned his horse, and did his best to race off. Thankfully, the old gray gelding wasn’t what he used to be or was just not in the mood to run. Persimmon trotted along for about fifty feet and then stopped to munch on some tall grasses dancing in the wind. I rode up beside my son. His cheeks were wet, but as soon as I arrived, he dashed away the wetness.
“It’s okay to cry or to be sad or even angry,” I said, wishing I could hold him.
