Randi drew in a slow breath, her gaze moving across the land once more—seeing it differently now. She saw neighbors greeting each other with a chin-flick or a low-voiced joke followed by hearty laughter. She admired the bright geometric paint of a community building nearby where teens entered excitedly.
“I think I understand a little more now” she said.
Braden nodded once.
“Understanding comes with time.”
She hesitated.
Then asked the question that had been forming since the day before.
“Will you teach me?”
He looked at her then.
Really looked.
“I will show you,” he said. “You must choose to see.”
Randi held his gaze. His words held such wisdom, and he made her feel accepted.
“May I see the inside of the clinic.”
He nodded and led the way.
The waiting area was more than she expected. Almost every chair was occupied. Braden was welcomed warmly by the twenty inhabitants waiting, some elderly, pregnant, injured or visibly ill.
Three toddlers quietly played in an area specifically colorfully designed for their age group. It was located near the registration area where they could be monitored while their parents were attended to.
Rows of comfortable upholstered chairs were provided. The walls were decorated withApsáalooke (Crow)culturalpaintings, historical photographs of tribal leaders, a huge flatscreen tv, and local art displayed throughout.
Randi openly admired the artwork and paintings.
“How many examining rooms are there?”
He held up six fingers.
“Two doctors who take turns for on-call emergencies, a PA, three nurses, and three office staff. This facility offers outpatient care, and minor surgeries, and a WIC program for nearly seven hundred residents.”
When they rode back, the land felt different beneath her. It wasn’t foreign and unfamiliar or something she stood outside of like a stranger.
And for the first time—
She understood that loving Brew meant more than loving the man he was.
It meant honoring where he came from.
CHAPTER 19
The work started early.
Before the sun had fully settled over the land, the horses were already being moved—guided, not forced—into a wide corral set just beyond the main barn. Dust rose in soft clouds beneath their hooves, the air carrying the familiar mix of earth, leather, and something older… something rooted.
Randi watched from the fence line at first, wrapped in one of Blythe’s light jackets, her gaze following the rhythm of it all. It wasn’t chaotic the way she expected.
It was coordinated and intentional. Each ranch hand knew their task and moved with purpose.
Branson worked closest to the animals, his focus steady, hismovements efficient as he guided them one by one through the chute.
