“Maybe we should be.”
“Running Ironhorse together was Pop’s dream, not mine.”
She shakes her head. “Nah, I remember you on the back of Blackie, helping herd cows with the rest of the hands. You loved it.”
Blackie.My old horse. I haven’t thought about him in ages.
“Never said I didn’t,” I say. “Now, stop deflecting, Stormy. You had raw God-given talent, and you threw it away for what? Training spoiled brats for pennies?”
I’ve always loved ranching. My grandfather instilled the love of working with the animals and working the land in me when I was little. It was the cutthroat suit-and-tie business approach I was never interested in. Pop loved that part of it, and he was determined to push me into the role. Even forcing me to apply to the University of Wyoming’s business school.
“I’ll remind you that it was your daughter in my pen today,” she says.
“Like I said before, there’s always an exception.”
She sighs. “I didn’t really have a choice. I had to stop and come home. It was hard enough after Mom died, but once things got tight and the ranch was in trouble, there was no money for travel, registration fees, new tack. Even with the sponsors I had, I couldn’t compete with riders who had unlimited resources.”
“I didn’t realize things had gotten so bad.”
“Yeah, well, they did. They got really bad.”
I look around us. At the new construction.
“Things seem to be going better now.”
“They are. Thanks to Matty making some hard but smart business decisions.”
“But?”
“Dreams change. And that’s okay. Turns out, I have a knack for training spoiled brats.”
“Okay.”
I drop the subject as we make it to the porch, where my parents and Ruby are waiting with Evelyn.
Ruby’s energy crashes hard. She clings to my leg, suddenly shy, suddenly tired.
Pop checks his watch.
“We should get going,” I say. “Someone needs dinner, bath, and bed.”
Ruby pouts. “I’m not sleepy.”
I crouch, bringing myself down to her level. “I was talking about me. Daddy is exhausted. Will you take me home and tuck me in?”
She nods. “I’ll help you, Daddy.”
I tap the tip of her nose. “Thanks, kiddo.”
Something tight and sharp settles in my chest as I pick her up. A yawn escapes as her head falls to my shoulder.
Momma and Pop say their goodbyes—Momma hugging Evelyn like she’s family and thanking Shelby again before Pop leads her to her car.
I linger for a moment. Cradling Ruby in my arms.
Evelyn pats my arm, and then she walks inside, leaving us on the porch.
“Sorry I was late,” I tell Shelby.
