Chapter Thirty-Five
Axle
I meet Uncle Albert at the main barn just after sunrise.
The ranch is still stretching awake. A few hands are already moving around the corrals, and somewhere across the property, a tractor rumbles to life. The air carries that crisp mountain chill that never completely disappears, even in the dead of summer.
Albert stands beside two saddled horses, a travel mug of coffee in one hand. “You’re late,” he says.
I glance at my watch. “We said seven. It’s three minutes past.”
He grunts, “Late.”
I shake my head.
Some things never change.
Growing up, we all learned that Albert Storm operated on his own clock, and everybody else was expected to keep up.
I grab the reins of the bay gelding waiting for me and swing into the saddle.
Albert mounts his sorrel mare with the ease of a man who’s spent the majority of his life on horseback. Riding is as natural as breathing for him.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Yep.”
Without another word, we head north.
The morning sun is just beginning to spill across the pasture. Dew glistens on the ground like tiny diamonds.
For a while, we ride in comfortable silence.
The ranch stretches endlessly around us. Eleven hundred acres of rolling fields, grassland, rivers, and mountains.
Home.
I’ve traveled all over the country, ridden in arenas from Maine to Oklahoma, and spent nights in motels just days away from being condemned, as well as in five-star hotels that were nicer than any place I’d ever imagined as a kid.
Nothing compares to this, and nothing ever will.
The horses settle into a leisurely trot as we cross the first pasture.
Albert glances over at me. “Your dad tells me you’ve been busy.”
I know exactly what he’s talking about. News spreads quickly around here, especially when it involves one of the family.
“Yeah? What’d he tell you?”
“He told me you got hooked up with Outlaw Heritage.”
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “Yeah.”
Albert lets out a low whistle. “That’s big time.”
I nod. “It could be.”
His eyebrow lifts. “Could be?”
I shrug. “I haven’t done anything yet.”
“They signed you, didn’t they?”
“They did.”
The old cowboy shakes his head. “Then you’ve done something, son.”
I let that wash over me.
“You know, I’ve worn Outlaw Heritage hats for years.”
“I do know that.”
“Best hats ever made.”
Pride fills my chest because I know it’s a brand he and Dad love. It takes a lot to impress them. If a company earns their loyalty, that’s a company I want to represent.
“Sounds like you belong in one of their commercials.”
He chuckles. “They don’t want a beat-up old cowboy like me. You’re the one with the million-dollar face. You’ve got that Trust beauty. Like my Miriam.”
“I don’t know how I feel about being told I have beauty,” I say. “And I wish. More like a quarter million dollars.”
“Give it time.” Albert takes another sip from his travel mug. “What I don’t understand is why you haven’t told the family.”
I stare out across the pasture. A small herd grazes near one of the ponds.
“I don’t know. I’m not one for bragging.”
Albert snorts. “It’s not bragging. It’s sharing your life with the people who love you—the good and the bad. Don’t take away our joy of being proud of you, son.”
I shift in the saddle.
I nod. “Bryce got my foot in the door. That’s all this is right now.”
Albert’s expression turns serious. “You know how many bull riders there are in the country?”
“A thousand or so.”
“That’s right. And Outlaw Heritage chose you.
It doesn’t matter who planted the idea in their heads; those guys wouldn’t bet on you if they didn’t believe the odds were in their favor.
Those men wouldn’t simply sign you because Bryce asked.
They aren’t in the business of giving favors.
They signed you because they see value in you and they think you’ll make them money. ”
I don’t answer.
Because part of me still struggles to believe it. I’ve spent years in arenas. Years climbing rankings. Years getting bucked off and climbing right back on. And I still feel like that kid trying to prove himself.
Albert points a finger at me. “So, you go on and do that.”
I bark out a laugh. “I’m certainly gonna try.”
“You’ve worked your tail off your whole life. Stop trying and start doing.” He cuts his eyes to me. “That means you need to change some things though.”
I look ahead.
I know.
“You can’t stay up all night, chasing beers and women anymore,” he continues. “That’s what men who waste their lives on the circuit and wake up one day broke and broken do.”
I nod because I’ve seen it.
“Keep your head down and your nose clean and do the work. Because you’re worth the investment, Axle. That’s what Outlaw Heritage sees.”
I don’t respond right away.
The only sounds are the hoofbeats beneath us and the birds calling from the trees.
“Thanks.”
He points at me again. “And soon, everybody else is gonna know it too.”
The ride continues north, beyond the old fence lines of the northern grazing pasture.
It passes a stretch of open meadow that turns vibrantly green every spring.
Then the landscape begins to shift. The grasslands give way to tall cottonwoods and lodgepole pines, and the trail narrows into the tree line.
This section of the ranch has always been one of my favorite places. It feels wild and untouched. Reminding me that Wyoming still belongs to nature, no matter how many fences we build.
We ride beneath the canopy at an easy pace until, somewhere off in the distance, we hear water.
Albert follows without asking any questions. He already knows the general direction we’re headed. But he hasn’t seen the exact location yet.
The trail winds along the base of the mountains until the trees finally begin to thin out and light spills through the branches.
We emerge into the clearing.
My chest tightens the second I see it. The same way it always has.
The river rushes along one side of the property. Crystal-clear water from the top of the mountains tumbles over rocks worn smooth by time.
The Tetons stand proud in the distance. Snow is still clinging to a few distant peaks despite the season. Rolling hills surround the clearing, creating a natural sense of privacy, but the land itself is mostly level. Perfect for building.
We pull the horses to a stop.
The ride took roughly fifty minutes from the ranch house, but as we stand here now, it feels like stepping into another world.
Albert slowly surveys the property—the river, the mountains, the open meadow, and the surrounding woods.
Finally, he looks at me. “So, this is it?”
I nod. “Yeah.” My voice comes out quieter than expected. “This is the place.”
He turns another slow circle in the saddle. “I can see why you picked it.”
The truth is, I’ve been picturing this place for nearly half my life. Back when I was a teenager, I’d ride out here and sit for hours. Dreaming and planning.
A cabin first. Then a house and a barn. A family—a home.
All the things that seemed impossibly far off in the future back then.
Albert dismounts.
I do the same. We walk the short distance toward the river. The water glistens beneath the morning sun.
He folds his arms.
“Well”—he glances at me—“I’ll have Matty start the paperwork this week.”
For a moment, I just stare at him. Even though I knew this day was coming, fulfilling a promise he and Grandpa Earl made to me and my brothers years ago, hearing him say the words makes it real.
He nods toward the land. “This acreage will belong to you.”
Emotion unexpectedly catches in my throat.
Mine.
He continues, “Build on it. Farm it. Raise a family. Steward it and pass it down to your kids one day.”
I nod.
“The only rule is the same one your parents got.”
“No selling outside the family,” I say.
“Exactly. If you ever want to leave, you sell it back to Wildhaven Storm.”
I look around again.
At the clearing I chose years ago. At the future I only imagined.
I turn toward him. “Thank you. I promise to take good care of it.”
The words feel inadequate for something this meaningful.
Albert shakes his head. “You don’t need to thank me. Just love it like I do.”
My throat tightens. “Don’t doubt that for a second.”
We stand there together for a few more moments. And for the first time since I was a teenager, sitting in this clearing, dreaming about someday, I can finally see the start of the life I always hoped to have.