Page 61 of Firefly Embers

I never would have imagined the broody cowboy would find the love of his life, settle down, and become a dad all in one year.

He was so jaded after his ex-fiancée screwed him over that I was a little concerned he would end up a perpetual bachelor. Stella and Charlie were so good for him, and they had instantly meshed with our little misfit family.

Tiny feet thundered down the hallway as Charlie rushed into the living room, a huge smile on her face. Last year, she had insisted on a fairy birthday; this year, she wanted to be a cowgirl.

She was decked out from head to toe in Western wear, from her tiny Ariat boots, Wranglers, a pink button-down with pearl snaps and matching pink fringe vest, all the way to the child-sized Stetson that sat atop her head. Her wild curls were sticking up in every direction, clearly mussed from a good afternoon nap, beneath the brim of her hat.

“Happy Birthday, little one,” Max cooed, opening his arms for her to climb into his lap. She bypassed everyone else, heading directly for her dad, climbing up and settling on his thighs with a contented sigh.

“Happy Birfday Mass Da!” she yelled, causing Max to wince in discomfort as she screeched. She was pure happiness, but I’m sure we could all do without the high-pitched, excited squealing.

Clearly having just clocked the number of gifts sitting on the fireplace mantel, most wrapped in pink paper, she scrambled out of her dad’s lap and ran directly toward her presents.

“Mama, I open?” she asked, her little feet unable to stay still as she vibrated with excitement. I chuckled lightly, wishing I could bottle even just an ounce of her excitement to keep in my pocket for a rainy day.

“Yes, baby, you can open them,” Stella said, sitting down and tucking herself into Max’s side.

We all watched as Charlie tore into every gift with reckless abandon, flinging scraps of wrapping paper across the living room.

We’d worry about the mess later; for now, we were just enjoying watching her eyes light up with excitement as she opened each package.

After unwrapping a new baby doll, a miniature lasso set—complete with a steer’s head to rope, a pretend camera, and a bunch of clothes—she sat down in the middle of the chaos and just smiled, taking everything in.

Unsurprisingly, she reached for the lasso set first, bringing it to Max to take out of the packaging.

“There’s one more gift,” Pops said gruffly, pushing out of his armchair with a grunt and holding out his hand for Charlie to follow him.

She placed her tiny palm in his as he steered her out the front door. At the top of the porch steps, he stopped and picked her up, carrying her toward the barn.

Max and Stella watched in utter confusion as we all followed behind the pair, everyone curious as to what sort of gift needed to be kept in the barn.

Pops set Charlie down outside the large wooden doors. “Wait right here,” he instructed, sliding open the door and re-shutting it behind him.

All of us waited with bated breath, excited to see what this gift could be. Charlie stood stock still, dutifully following Pops’ orders.

As the clomping of hooves echoed through the surrounding air, Max’s head tilted back toward the sky, and a groan of frustration crested his lips.

“For fuck’s sake,” he grumbled.

“Mass Da, bad wo—PONY!” Charlie’s scream of excitement could have been heard at least two counties over as she jumped up and down with giddy excitement.

Pops brought the small, speckled foal over, its legs barely stable, and stopped it right in front of our group. He motioned for Charlie to approach, and she did so slowly, walking on soft feet like she’d been taught to do when around new animals.

She was a natural with horses; I had seen it with my own two eyes. She walked closer to the foal, holding out her tiny hand to allow it to sniff her. The horse let out an excited whinny, and Charlie giggled in response.

Horses are very particular when it comes to their people. They can be exceptionally temperamental. The fact that an unbroken foal, with zero formal training, was letting Charlie get this close to it without so much as blinking an eye had all of us staring in wondrous amazement.

This was her heart horse—we all could feel it.

“Every cowgirl needs a horse,” Pops explained, running his large, weathered hand down the horse’s scrawny neck. “You’re not quite old enough to be able to take care of it, so I’ll help you out with that, but this baby here will be your responsibility.”

Charlie stared back at him unblinking as she nodded, listening with rapt attention to his instructions.

“Now, little one. What are you going to name him?”

We all waited anxiously as she tapped her finger to her lips in contemplation. Asking a two-year-old to name something often went over like a fart in church. After a couple of seconds of contemplation, her eyes lit up with joy, and a wide smile spread across her face.

“Hims name is Bubbles Flower Pancake.”