My mother watches the scenery through the window.
“I haven’t been out here in years,” she says softly. “Not since your grandmother passed.”
Her voice carries that quiet sadness I remember from that time.
I glance at her. “It’s peaceful.”
She smiles faintly.
The loss of my grandmother hit this family like a landslide.
The Silver Spur was never the same after that.
Neither was Josiah.
Neither was my mother.
The ranch comes into view about ten minutes later.
I pull through the gate and follow the gravel drive toward the house.
The porch light glows warmly in the growing darkness.
My grandfather’s truck sits in its usual spot beside the barn. It hasn’t been driven in years, but I crank it once a week just to keep it running.
“Home sweet home,” Mom murmurs. “I forgot how big it is.”
I park near the porch.
When we step inside the front door, Granddad’s voice immediately calls out, “That you, Porter?”
“Yeah, it’s me, old man. And I brought a surprise with me.”
I follow Mom into the living room.
Josiah is seated in his normal spot. His gray hair sticks up in the back like he’s been napping in the recliner again.
His eyes land on my mother.
For a split second, he just stares.
Then his face lights up like the Fourth of July.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
“Hi, Daddy.”
My mother barely gets the words out before he’s on his feet.
He pulls her into a hug so tight that she squeaks.
“Easy.” She laughs breathlessly. “You’re going to crack a rib.”
Josiah ignores her completely and squeezes tighter.
“Look at you,” he says gruffly. “Still the prettiest girl in the whole wide world.”
“I’ve missed you,” she grunts.
