“He carries both worlds, my son,” he said. “Not always easy.”
“I can imagine.”
A quiet pause stretched between them.
Then—
“You paint,” he said.
She blinked slightly.
“Yes.”
“I’ve seen the way you look at things,” he continued. “That is where it begins.”
Her gaze dropped briefly, her voice softer now.
“I’m trying to find my way back to it.”
Braden shook his head once.
“We know of your accident. Your strength, your will, your spirit has been tested, not broken. You are a warrior and will not falter back.”
She looked up.
“You are becoming,” he said simply, patting her shoulder.
The words caught her off guard and settled deeper than she expected.
“There is something I wish to show you. Will you ride with me tomorrow after breakfast?”
“Will Brew be joining us?”
He simply shook his head, his gaze not challenging – just watchful.
“I’d love spending quality time with you, yes.”
Chapter 18
They rode without hurry, a sharp, medicinal scent wafting around them from the sagebrush being crushed by their steeds hooves and the rhythmic creak of the leather saddles they sat upon.
The air still carried a chill, a small reminder of the high-altitude wilderness surrounding them, their horses’ breath white puffs dissipating into thin air. The only sound was the muffled thuds of hooves against the damp earth.
The rhythm settled into something steady, the land opening gradually as they moved farther from the ranch. The air shifted, the boundaries less defined, the sense of place deepening with every mile.
As the morning light peaked, the landscape underwent a magnificent transformation as thegray shadows of the Pryor Mountains dissolved into golden fire with the big Montana sky as its backdrop.
Randi didn’t ask where they were going.
She understood this wasn’t something to interrupt.
When the landscape began to change more, she noticed it immediately.
The land itself didn’t lose its beauty—but something in it felt different. Lived in but not polished. Structures stood scattered across the terrain, some worn by time or ready to tumble, others newer but simple and functional.
Life was here. Not staged or curated but real as real could get.
“This is part of our land,” Braden said quietly.
