24. Emmett
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Emmett
I sink another fence staple into the post when a silver SUV rolls through Dusty Spur’s front gate with music thumping hard enough to send a couple of horses lifting their heads from the hay.
The hammer pauses halfway through another swing before I let out a long breath and mutter, “Please keep driving.”
The SUV crawls across the yard instead, crunching over the gravel until it comes to a stop outside the house.
“Well,” Willy says from the corral, glancing over the top rail toward me. “You look thrilled.”
“I was having a good morning.”
The driver’s door swings open, and Tori climbs out in spotless white trainers, designer sunglasses, and a denim jacket that probably costs more than the fence I’m fixing. She looks around the ranch with the kind of polite smile people wear while deciding whether a hotel deserves four stars or five.
“Wow,” she says as she walks over. “I forgot how dusty this place gets.”
She smiles at me and steps in for a hug. I return it awkwardly before we separate again.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
Her eyes run up and down me. “How’ve you been?”
“Keeping busy.”
“I can see that.” Her gaze drifts past me toward Red and Willy. “You three still living together?”
Willy tips his hat. “Good seeing you too.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You definitely did.”
She laughs and waves a hand. “I only meant I figured one of you’d have settled down by now.”
“I’ve got plenty of offers.”
“They know about each other?”
Willy chuckles to himself instead of rising to the bait, which tells me he’s already decided she isn’t worth arguing with.
Before anybody can think of another reply, the screen door slams against the house. “Daddy!”
Sadie tears across the yard with her curls bouncing behind her before throwing herself into Tori’s arms hard enough to rock her back a step.
“Mommy!”
Tori laughs as she catches her. “There’s my girl.”
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too, sweetheart.”
I hope that’s true.
Sadie barely pauses for breath before the words start tumbling over each other. “Cinnamon’s got a ranch now and Arizona helped me build it and Willy carved a sign and Red said it was ugly but Cinnamon forgave him because she’s nice…” She suddenly twists around, scanning the yard. “Where’s Arizona?”
Tori’s smile fades. “Who’s Arizona?”
“My friend.” Sadie points toward the house before looking back up at her mother. “She sings and she helped me build Cinnamon’s ranch.”
Tori looks at me. “You hired somebody?”
“No. She’s staying in town for a while. She’s a singer.”
“She’s been spending time here?”
I shake my head. Not that it’s her business, but there’s no point in aggravating Tori. She doesn’t say anything else, but the way she studies me makes my shoulders tighten.
Sadie doesn’t give either of us the chance to continue.
“Come on.” She catches Tori’s hand and tugs her across the yard. “You’ve got to see Cinnamon.”
The upside down feed bucket waits proudly inside the little paddock we built yesterday, complete with Willy’s crooked sign hanging across the front.
Red slips the wrench back into his toolbox before looking my way. “We’ll finish the west fence.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
He doesn’t say another word because he doesn’t need to.
Willy claps me on the shoulder as they head toward the pasture. “If she starts throwing things, whistle.”
Their voices drift across the pasture while I watch Sadie lead her mother toward Cinnamon’s ranch.
“Cinnamon lives here,” Sadie announces proudly.
Tori blinks at the bucket wearing its pink halter. “So, who’s Cinnamon?”
“My horse.”
Sadie says it like the answer should’ve been obvious.
Tori looks at me before looking back at the bucket. “She’s still pretending?”
“It makes her happy.”
She crouches beside Sadie and smiles. “Sweetheart, you’re getting to the age where most kids are finding new games.”
Sadie strokes the bucket gently. “I still like her.”
“I’m sure you do.” Tori brushes a curl away from Sadie’s face. “You don’t have to encourage every little fantasy, Emmett.”
Sadie’s hand stills against the pink halter.
My grip tightens around the hammer in my hand because I’ve watched her do that for years.
Tori follows Sadie through the little gate into Cinnamon’s ranch, picking her way across the dirt while Sadie drops beside the upside down feed bucket and strokes the pink halter with obvious pride.
“She likes apples,” Sadie says, looking up at her mother. “Carrots too, but Dad cuts them up because she gets grumpy if they’re too big.”
Tori smiles politely, but her attention has already drifted toward the buzzing phone in her handbag. She glances at the screen, taps out a quick reply with her thumb, then slips it away again before Sadie notices.
“Show me the rest.”
Sadie lights up straight away. “I’ve got chickens too.”
“They’re real,” I add.
“They’re noisy,” Sadie corrects me before taking off across the yard.
Tori follows at a much more careful pace while I trail behind them. Sadie chatters the entire walk, introducing every chicken by name and explaining which one steals food, which one likes cuddles, and which one once chased Willy halfway across the yard.
“I maintain that rooster had bad intentions,” Willy shouts from the pasture.
“You screamed.”
Even Red laughs at that one.
By the time we head inside, Sadie’s barely stopped talking long enough to breathe. She darts into the living room before racing back with a drawing clutched in both hands. “Look what I did.”
She spreads the paper across the kitchen table.
A group of stick figures stand beneath a giant rodeo sign while Cinnamon grazes nearby wearing a cowboy hat almost as big as she is.
Tori smiles. “You’re getting really good.”
Sadie points at each figure in turn. “That’s Daddy.”
“I recognize him.”
“That’s me.”
“I definitely recognize you.”
She slides her finger across the page again. “That’s Willy, Red, and that’s Arizona.”
Tori’s smile pauses. “She spends quite a bit of time here?”
Sadie beams. “She taught me guitar.”
Tori smiles along as Sadie discusses her musical escapades, but halfway through the story her phone buzzes again. “Sorry.”
She glances down at the screen, frowning slightly as she reads another message before typing back.
Sadie keeps talking anyway, waiting patiently for her mom to look up again.
It takes longer this time.
When Tori finally slips the phone back into her bag, Sadie’s finished her story and gone quiet.
“So…” Tori says with an apologetic smile. “Where were we?”
Sadie shrugs. “I don’t know.”
My chest tightens.
Tori doesn’t see it. She reaches over and smooths Sadie’s curls before smiling. “I’ve got a meeting I completely forgot about, and if I cancel again they’ll probably stop asking.”
“Oh.” Sadie’s smile slips, but she catches it almost straight away. “That’s okay.”
“I’ll come back soon,” Tori says as she stands. “Maybe next weekend.”
Sadie nods because she always nods. “I’d like that.”
“I’ll call you.”
“I know.”
Tori kisses the top of her head, thanks me for the coffee, and heads out to her SUV while already scrolling through her phone.
I walk her to the porch, watching her climb into the driver’s seat without looking up from the screen until the engine starts.
“I’ll call later,” she says through the open window.
“I’ll tell Sadie.”
She gives me a distracted smile, pulls away from the house, and disappears through the ranch gates.
I stay on the porch until the dust settles.
I push the screen door open and find Sadie back at the kitchen table with Cinnamon spread across another sheet of paper. She colors carefully around the pink halter before swapping crayons, her tongue poking out the corner of her mouth with the concentration she gets from me.
I pull out the chair beside her and rest my forearms on the table. “You doing alright, sweetheart?”
She keeps coloring. “Mom had to work.”
“I know.”
“She’s busy.”
She says it so easily you’d think she was talking about the weather.
I reach over and smooth a curl behind her ear. “She loves you.”
“I know.” The green crayon moves across the page. “She just forgets.”
I swallow. “Forget what?”
She shrugs without looking up. “To come.”
The answer sits between us while I search for words that don’t sound like excuses.
The screen door bangs shut before I find any.
“You feeding this poor child or just teaching her advanced starvation?”
Arizona strolls into the kitchen carrying a canvas tote over one shoulder, her hat tipped back and a grin already waiting. Sadie drops the crayon onto the table and launches herself out of the chair.
“Arizona!”
Arizona barely has time to brace herself before Sadie wraps both arms around her waist. She laughs and catches her with one arm.
“Mercy.” She looks over at me. “She’s getting stronger. You been slipping protein powder into the pancakes?”
“Mostly syrup.”
“Willy’s influence.”
“I resent that,” Willy calls through the open back door. “My pancakes have nutritional value. Good to see you, by the way. Thanks for coming, Arizona. We could use your spirit today.”
Much to my surprise, Arizona doesn’t ask. She simply reaches into her tote. “I brought you a little present.”
Sadie’s eyes go wide. “You did?”
Arizona hands her a folded paper bag.
Sadie opens it carefully before tipping a handful of brightly colored guitar picks into her palm, decorated with tiny designs. “They’re horses!”
“I found them in Miller’s Crossing.” Arizona crouches beside her. “Figured every future rock star deserves proper equipment.”
Sadie throws her arms around her again. “I love them.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” Arizona smiles before looking across at me. “Think you’ve got room in the schedule for another guitar lesson after dinner?”
Sadie answers before I can. “I already know two chords.”
Arizona raises an eyebrow. “Well, look at you.”
“I nearly made Red leave the room.”
“I walked outside voluntarily,” Red says as he comes through the back door carrying his toolbox. He sets it beside the pantry before pointing a finger at Arizona. “You encouraged it.”
“I’m aiming for three chords tonight,” she laughs.
Red reaches for the coffee pot. “I’ll be in the barn.”
“You’ll still hear us.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
Arizona flashes him a grin that makes the corner of his mouth twitch despite himself.
Willy wanders in behind him carrying a loaf of bread tucked beneath one arm like he spent the afternoon rescuing it from danger.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announces, holding it above his head, “your carbohydrate provider has arrived.”
Arizona folds her arms. “Wow.”
He tears the end from the loaf and presents it to Sadie with an elaborate bow. “For the young musician.”
Sadie accepts it with complete seriousness. “Thank you, Sir Willy.”
He places a hand over his heart. “At last. The respect I’ve earned.”
The kitchen fills with laughter, and Sadie slips a pick onto a piece of string while Arizona helps her tie the knot.
They sit shoulder to shoulder, their heads bent over the tiny knot, and Sadie chatters away about Cinnamon learning drums so she can start a band.
Arizona listens to every word like it’s the most interesting conversation she’s had all week. She catches me watching and lifts her head. “What?”
I shake mine. “Just watching you guys.”
She narrows her eyes. “That look usually ends with you worrying about everybody.”
“I’ve got a reputation.”
“You do.”
She smiles before turning back to Sadie.
I keep watching anyway.
She kneels on our kitchen floor without caring about the dust on her jeans, laughs at every impossible story Sadie tells, and slips into this house like she’s always belonged here.
That’s the part I can’t afford to forget.
Arizona’s only passing through. I know that.
My heart just refuses to believe it.