Page 12 of Colt

“Good morning.” I raise a hand.

She smiles at me. “Mornin’, fellas. How we doin’ today?”

“All right for a—wait, Dad, what day is it again?”

Laughing, I help Dean loop the straps of his backpack over his little shoulders. My throat tightens. I don’t know why I still get emotional at drop-off sometimes two months into the school year. Guess it’s hard to believe my sweet boy is growing up this fast.

“Wednesday.” My voice sounds a little gruffer than it should.

Dean smiles. “All right for a Wednesday, Mrs. Gonzalez.” He looks up at me. “I’m fine, Dad. You can go now.”

I laugh again, leaning in to press a noisy kiss to his cheek.

“Da-ad.” He lifts his shoulder to wipe his cheek. “That’s gross.”

“Love you, buddy. Have a great day.”

“You too!” he says without looking back.

Tucking my hands into my front pockets, I watch him shake the principal’s hand. Good eye contact. Well done, bud.

Sometimes I think I’m fucking up this whole parenting thing. Other times, I feel like I’m doing all right.

Not gonna lie, though, I feel significantly less stressed driving back to the ranch alone. Windows all the way down. Lumineers turned all the way up.

I can finally hear myself think. Of course, I think about the day’s to-do list.

Work is work. I love it one day, hate it the next. But the legacy I’m building by showing up every day?

That I’ll always be proud of.

That I can always rely on. Life on the ranch is about survival. That will never change.

There’s comfort in that kind of continuity. There’s been so much change—so much upheaval—in my personal life that the ranch’s unchanging rhythms have become a bit of a lifeline. Sure, we’ll put up a new building here and there, but the core of our business has remained the same since I was a kid. Dad’s poured his heart and soul into producing quality animals with impeccable bloodlines, and it shows.

It’s nice always knowing what to expect. Children need that kind of stability, and honestly, so do I.

I park my truck outside the single-level limestone house where I grew up, just like I always do.

I go inside and kiss my mama, just like I always do.

And like I always do, I put on my hat and head to the ranch’s offices, which are housed in a new building that’s a stone’s throw from Mom and Dad’s house.

But as I’m wiping my boots on the mat outside the front door, my blood goes cold at the unfamiliar voice I hear inside.

It’s clear. Full-throated.

Sexy.

Whoever it belongs to speaks authoritatively, passionately, without pause. I find myself leaning in to be able to hear her better.

“Y’all’s property is an absolute stunner,” she’s saying. “I think I drove up the main road at two miles an hour just so I could take it all in. I’m admittedly not an outdoorsy person, but y’all just might convert me. There’s so much inspiration out here. I already have pages of notes and ideas I jotted down.”

Five heartbeats in, and I’m part of her rapt audience. There’s an earnestness to her enthusiasm that makes me want to believe her.

And that pisses me off. I learned the hard way that people will lie to your face. The more earnest someone is, the more likely they are to be full of shit.

I hear Dad chuckle. “You sound surprised.”