PROLOGUE
ALMOST A YEAR AGO
Dear Cowboy,
Happy birthday.
I wanted to start with birthday wishes. I’m sure far too many people forgot today is your birthday and, if they said anything it was probably Happy Valentine’s Day. It’s easy for birthdays to be swept under the rug on days like today.
So, it deserves to be said again—Happy birthday.
When I think about today being your birthday, I wonder what the perfect birthday would look like to you. Do you want a favorite breakfast? Do you like balloons or would they be too much?
I can imagine you saying they’re too fussy.
Do you go for a ride and look over the expanse of Sagebrush Ranch?
I hope you spend the day riding your horse and appreciating your land.
Legacies are hard and the mantle of them is rarely given in the way we want, in the way we think we can handle.
I have my own, ones I would rather forget. Ones I hope I never live up to.
Is your legacy the same, at least a little bit?
Because there is pride to be found in a legacy where strength wins. I would think a long-fought legacy of ranching the land has a backbone of strength. Even when it’s hard to see it.
My legacy has its own strength.
Sometimes it just feels like fear, though.
I think that’s a different letter and I don’t want to get too deep.
Do you have a favorite place to go on your land? A place that is just your own? Have you ever shared it with anyone?
I hope you do. I hope you trust someone enough to show them.
Maybe not this year.
Maybe one day.
Anyway, Ford, Happy birthday.
CHAPTER 1
FORD
Dear Cowboy,
I’ve been thinking a lot about sadness. Don’t worry, Ford, not my own, even though there are times when I’m sad. Ha! As if you’re worried about my sadness.
But I haven’t just been thinking about sadness. I’ve been thinking about loneliness and bravery. I’ve been thinking about relief and surprise. I’ve been thinking about resentment and passion.
We’re taught these feelings, these words that are meant to convey what we experience in life. And we’re told this is the language, this is how we communicate what we feel. We all just trust it. Trust the construct created long before you or I came to be, which will continue on long after we are gone.
The language of it. The connection those words are hoping to describe.
It’s all just…too much. You know? Too much and not enough.
