Behind them, the mountains stretched in the light, and the half-finished roof caught the glow like something alive.
“You always this bossy?” she asked.
“Only when it’s my land,” Blaze said.
Marisol stepped back, admiring her work. “Your land’s startin’ to look like a place again.”
“Feels strange, don’t it?” Blaze said, his eyes moving across the field. The wind slid through the grass. “After all that blood...hearing nothing but wind again.”
“Strange,” she said. “But good.”
Chato appeared from the side of the corral, carrying a plank over his shoulder. “If you two are done flirting with each other, I got three more boards that need lifting.”
“We weren’t flirting,” Blaze replied quickly.
Marisol grinned. “Speak for yourself.”
“If I hear one more sweet word between you two,” Chato said, “I’m throwing myself down the well.”
“Wouldn’t fit,” Blaze said.
It was a breath of fresh air for Blaze to see Chato stepping out of his comfort zone. They had never joked like this with each other before, but since he had started to help with the rebuilding of Buckeye Ranch, everything had changed.
Rachel’s laughter drifted from the porch.
“Don’t tease him too much,” she said. “We still need him for the fence.”
Chato set the board down with a grunt. “Fence don’t build itself either.”
Blaze watched him go, then turned to Marisol. “He’ll live.”
“He likes complaining,” she said, laughing.
“Yeah,” Blaze said, “means things are normal again.”
He leaned on the hammer handle, taking in the ranch. The Buckeye land had changed since they’d ridden home. The old corral was mended. The barn was half-raised, its new timbers still pale and raw. A line of laundry flapped between two fence posts, and smoke curled from the chimney of the rebuilt cabin.
Life had somehow found its way back here. Blaze let out a slow breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. It was a habit from too many years of waiting for the next gunshot.
Rachel came down from the porch, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Supper’s nearly ready,” she said. “Beans, bread, and what’s left of that jerky.”
Blaze nodded. “Sounds fine.”
“You still don’t eat enough,” she said.
“I’m working too much,” Blaze replied. “Balances out.”
She gave him a look that reminded him she was still the little sister who used to boss him around.
“You’re gonna make yourself old before your time.”
“Too late,” he said.
Marisol grinned. “He was born old.”
“That right?” Rachel asked.
