WINNIE
The prodigal daughter
Pawhuska, Oklahoma
"Home isn't a place; it's the people who make you feel like you belong, no matter how far you've wandered."*
– Unknown
***
Sunday mornings on the ranch were usually sacred. It was the only time the world stood still long enough for me to hear myself think.
Pops had left before sunrise for the early service at the white-steepled church in town, taking his rattling truck and his Sunday best with him. That left me with the quiet, the dew on the grass, and the rhythmic thud-thud-thud of Bandit’s hooves hitting the dirt in the arena.
Regionals were looming like a storm cloud on the horizon.
The cloverleaf pattern was burned into my retinas, a figure-eight of speed and precision that I ran in my sleep.
Bandit was ready—he was lean, fast, and intuitive, anticipating the turns before I even shifted my weight.
We clocked a 16.2 in the cool morning air. Solid. But not winning material.
I needed sub-16.
Because this year, it wasn’t just about the buckle or the pride. It was about the purse.
I walked Bandit to the cool-down pen, my mind doing the same exhausted math it had been doing for months. Entry fees: $350. Diesel for the trailer: $200. Vet checks, feed supplements, the new shoeing Bandit needed next week…
I rubbed my forehead, leaving a streak of dirt.
I’d been moving money around like a shell game—robbing Peter to pay Paul, then robbing Paul to pay the feed store.
Pops didn’t know how bad it was. He didn’t know I’d intercepted the “Final Notice” on the property taxes last week and paid it with the emergency fund I was supposed to be saving for a new roof.
If I didn’t place at Regionals, I didn’t know how we were going to make it through winter.
I pushed the panic down—a practiced skill—and headed back to the house.
The guest house was empty now, the curtains open and the bed stripped.
Solene had left yesterday morning—quietly, surprisingly.
No drama, no tearful scene. Just a hug, some honest words, and dust settling behind her Mercedes as she headed back to Dallas to figure out her own life.
Beau had been lighter since she left. I’d caught him whistling this morning while fixing the fence, and last night at dinner, he’d actually laughed—a real one, not the careful, diplomatic chuckles he’d been giving while Solene was here.
Still, we hadn’t talked. Not really. About us, about what he’d said in the barn before her arrival. The words hung between us like morning fog—present but untouchable.
My phone buzzed on the counter as I started the coffee.
Cassie: So the princess fled the kingdom. Did Beau propose yet or is he still being a coward?
I snorted, typing back with one hand.
Me: He’s fixing fence posts. Very romantic.
Cassie: Make him sweat. It’s good for him. Also I need details ASAP.
I was grinning as I poured my coffee—black, hot, necessary—and stepped onto the porch to watch the sun fully crest the trees.
The peace lasted exactly three minutes.
Gravel crunched. A vehicle was coming up the drive.
My stomach tightened. We weren’t expecting anyone. Pops was at church, and the feed delivery wasn’t until Tuesday.
But the car that rounded the bend wasn’t a delivery truck. It was a silver SUV, practical and polished, with Colorado plates. It pulled up next to my truck, and the engine cut.
The driver’s door opened, and a woman stepped out. Tall. Shoulders back. Moving with the kind of confident grace that didn’t just walk on the ground but owned it.
My coffee mug nearly slipped from my fingers.
“No way,” I breathed.
I vaulted the porch railing—forget the steps—and sprinted across the yard. “Elise!”
She turned just in time to catch me, laughing as I slammed into her. She smelled like expensive shampoo and mountain air, but underneath that, she smelled like family. Like safety.
“Oof! Easy, tiger!” She squeezed me back, rocking us side to side. “You trying to break my ribs before I even unpack?”
“You’re early!” I pulled back, grinning so hard my face hurt. “You said two weeks! I haven’t even cleaned the guest room properly!”
“Please. I grew up in this house; I know where the clean sheets are.” She held me at arm’s length, her hazel eyes scanning my face with a terrifying level of perception. “Look at you. You look… tired, Winnie. But strong. God, you look just like Nana.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I missed you.”
Elise had changed in the three years since she’d been back.
Her hair was a sharp, chic bob now, and her clothes were city-quality—fitted dark denim, a cashmere sweater, boots that cost money.
But her hands were still Jameson hands, capable and strong.
She was the one who got out. The one who traded muddy boots for a corner office in Denver tech.
But she never looked down on us for staying.
“I missed you too, kid.” She grabbed her duffel bag. “Pops mentioned Regionals on the phone. I looked at my calendar, saw a bunch of meetings that could be emails, and decided my niece needed a spotter more than a software company needed a COO.”
“You skipped work for me?”
“I’m the boss. I do what I want.” She winked. “Now, feed me. I’ve been dreaming about biscuits for three hundred miles.”
We moved into the kitchen, falling into an easy rhythm. I prepped breakfast—ham, eggs, the biscuits I’d set to rise earlier—while Elise sat at the counter, watching me with that sharp, analytical gaze.
“So,” she said, wrapping her hands around a mug. “Catch me up. Real talk. Pops says his knee is ‘fine,’ which means it’s terrible. He says the ranch is ‘steady,’ which means… what?”
I hesitated, flipping the eggs. I wanted to lie. I wanted to be the capable ranch manager who had it all under control. But Elise was the one who taught me how to balance a checkbook when I was twelve. She would smell a lie before it left my mouth.
“It’s tight,” I admitted, staring at the skillet. “Feed prices are up. The drought killed the first hay cutting. And…”
“And?”
“And I had to replace the well pump last month. And pay the property tax penalty.” I turned to face her, leaning against the counter. “I’m moving money around, Elise. But the math isn’t mathing right now. If I don’t place at Regionals…”
Elise set her mug down. The warmth in her eyes cooled into determination. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“Because it’s not your problem. You have your own life.”
“This ranch is my home too. You are my family.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a checkbook. “How much?”
“Elise, no—”
“I’m not asking permission. I’m asking for a number. Vet bills? Feed supplier? Give me the overdue ones.”
“The vet bill is the worst,” I whispered, the shame burning my cheeks. “Bandit’s colic surgery last winter. I’m still paying it off.”
“Done.” She scribbled something, tore the check out, and slid it across the counter. “Pay it off tomorrow. And the rest… we’ll figure out a budget. You aren’t drowning on my watch, Winnie. Not when I can teach you to swim.”
I looked at the check. It was enough to cover the vet and the feed for the next three months. My knees felt weak. “I… thank you. I don’t know what to say.”
“Say ‘pass the butter.’” She smiled, but her eyes were fierce. “Now. Tell me about the other complication. Pops mentioned a ‘stray’ from Dallas?”
I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “Beau. He’s… a lot.”
“A lot good or a lot bad?”
“A lot confusing. He showed up useless. Designer boots, scared of chickens. But now…” I chewed my lip. “He’s working. He’s trying. And a few days ago he told me he wants to be with me.”
Elise’s eyebrows shot up. “And?”
“And then his ex-girlfriend showed up in a Mercedes to drag him back to civilization.”
“Did she succeed?”
“No. She left yesterday. Alone.” I poured Elise more coffee. “Honestly? I think she just needed to see that he’d moved on. And maybe figure out that she needed to move on too.”
“Huh. Mature ending. Rare.” Elise looked impressed. “So what’s stopping you two now?”
“Me, I guess. I’m scared, Elise. He says he wants this life, wants me, but… what if he wakes up in six months and realizes he made a mistake? That is if he even stays til the end of the summer.”
Elise was quiet for a moment, buttering her biscuit. “You know what Nana used to say? ‘You can’t live your whole life braced for the hurt.’ She told me that when I was planning to leave for school, terrified I’d fail.”
“Did it help?”
“Not immediately. But eventually.” She met my eyes. “Love is a risk, Winnie. The question isn’t whether he might leave. It’s whether what you could have together is worth the risk of him leaving.”
Before I could answer, the screen door opened.
Beau walked in, dirt on his jeans, work gloves in his back pocket. He stopped dead when he saw Elise.
“Oh. Hey. I didn’t know we had—” He looked at me, uncertain.
“Beau, this is my aunt, Elise. Elise, this is Beau.”
Elise stood, extending her hand with a smile that was equal parts warm and assessing. “The infamous Beau Sterling. Pops tells me you’ve been learning the ropes.”
Beau shook her hand, and I saw him stand a little straighter under her gaze. “Trying to. Still have a lot to learn.”
“Pops also tells me you’re scared of Pickles.”
Beau’s face went red. “That rooster is demonic.”
Elise laughed—a real, loud one. “I like him already.” She looked between us, noting the way Beau’s eyes kept drifting to me, the way I was very deliberately not looking at him.
“Well. I’m going to unpack. Winnie, after breakfast, let’s go to the arena.
I want to see this pattern you’ve been working on.
” She paused at the doorway, glancing back at Beau. “You ride, Beau?”
“Getting better at it.”
“Good. You can help me time her runs. If you can handle a stopwatch.”
“I can manage that.”
“Perfect.” Elise shot me a meaningful look before heading upstairs. “Give you two a minute.”
The kitchen fell silent.
Beau poured himself coffee, leaning against the counter across from me. “Your aunt seems… intense.”
“She is. But she’s the best.”
“She’s here for Regionals?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded, fingers drumming against the mug. “Winnie, about… everything. Can we—”
“Talk? Yeah. We should.” I met his eyes finally. “But not right now. I need to focus on training. Regionals are soon, and I can’t afford distractions.”
He flinched slightly. “I’m a distraction?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Do I?” He set the mug down, stepping closer. “Because from where I’m standing, it feels like you’re avoiding this. Avoiding us.”
“I’m not avoiding. I’m being practical.”
“Practical is code for scared.”
I bristled. “And what if I am scared? You told me you want this, you want me, but then Solene showed up and I had to watch you navigate your past while I’m supposed to just… what? Believe you? Trust that you’re not going to wake up one day and realize you made a mistake?”
“I didn’t invite her here, Winnie.”
“I know.” I exhaled, the fight draining out of me. “I know. And I watched you handle it. I watched you let her go. But Beau, this isn’t just about Solene. It’s about me figuring out if I can let myself believe in this. In you. In us.”
He was quiet for a long moment. Then: “Fair. Take your time. But Winnie? I’m not going anywhere soon. Whether you believe it yet or not.”
He grabbed his gloves and headed back outside.
I stood there, hands gripping the counter, heart pounding.
Elise appeared at the top of the stairs, coffee in hand. “That boy’s down bad.”
“I know.”
“And you’re also down bad.”
“…I know.”
“So what are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?”
“I’m waiting to make sure I’m not about to lose my ranch, my sanity, and my heart all at once.”
Elise came down, putting an arm around my shoulders. “Fair. But don’t wait so long you lose your shot at something real.”
I leaned into her. “When did you get so wise?”
“I’ve always been wise. You’re just finally listening.”
Reinforcements had arrived. And suddenly, the mountain didn’t look quite so high.