Epilogue
JOSEPHINE
"Tell him he's wrong."
"I'm not wrong."
"You are."
"Theodore,” Henry snaps, frustrated. “You can't declare yourself correct just because you used a five-dollar word."
"I can when the five-dollar word is correct."
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
Across the rodeo grounds, Clay catches the tail end of the argument and immediately veers in the opposite direction. Smart man.
Theodore spots him anyway. "Dad!"
Clay stops mid-step.
Too late.
The twins descend on him from opposite directions. Theodore arrives armed with facts. Henry arrives armed with outrage.
By the time they reach him, Clay already looks tired. "What happened?”
"He says goats aren't livestock."
"I said they're in a different competition category."
Henry throws both hands into the air. "See? He keeps making it worse."
Theodore lets out an exasperated sigh that sounds far too much like his father.
Clay glances at me for help.
I smile and take a sip of lemonade.
He's on his own.
After ten years of marriage, I've learned that rescuing him only encourages them.
The annual Buckhorn Rodeo stretches around us, packed with families, vendors, livestock, and enough noise to carry clear across town. Kids race between tents with faces smeared from funnel cakes. Country music blasts from the arena speakers. Somewhere behind me, a horse protests being brushed.
The whole place buzzes with energy.
And right in the middle of it stands Clay.
Ten years ago, he was trying to figure out who he wanted to be after bull riding.
Now people stop him every few steps.
A teenager waves from the scholarship booth. One of the instructors from the youth riding program catches his attention near the practice arena. A volunteer from the charity auction points toward a table that needs more bids.
Clay built every one of those programs. He spent years pouring himself into this town until Buckhorn stopped feeling like the place he landed and became the place he helped shape.
Theodore is still explaining competition classifications.
Henry is still convinced his brother belongs in a courtroom.
Clay listens to both of them, nodding along as if they're presenting evidence in a case that matters to national security.
Then a familiar grin spreads across his face.
I know that grin.
"Boys," Clay says, draping an arm around each of their shoulders, "I think there's only one way to settle this."
Neither of them looks convinced.
Clay turns toward me. "Let's ask your mother."
I laugh before either twin can protest.
Theodore groans, Henry throws both hands up in victory, and Clay looks entirely too pleased with himself.
Clay catches my eye from across the group and flashes a grin that still hits exactly where he intends it to. Ten years haven't done a thing to dull that particular weapon.
Before either twin can restart the debate, a familiar voice carries across the rodeo grounds. "McCoy family photo in five minutes!"
A chorus of complaints rises from every direction.
I laugh into my lemonade.
This is going to be a disaster.
Five minutes later, I discover I wasn't nearly pessimistic enough.
The photographer stands on a hay bale, waving his arms with the determination of a man trying to herd feral cats. "Everybody closer together!"
The McCoy family responds by spreading out even farther.
I spot Boone near the edge of the group. While everyone else pretends to cooperate, his attention stays fixed on the arena entrance.
Ellie stands with a cluster of friends, laughing at something Wyatt says. Every few seconds, Boone glances her way like he's trying to memorize her before she leaves.
Rose follows his line of sight and bumps her shoulder against his. "You know staring won't cancel her college acceptance letter."
Boone shoves his hands into his pockets. "I'm appreciating the limited time I have left."
"You make it sound like she's joining a witness protection program."
"She's moving to Eugene."
Rose snorts. "It's four hours away."
"Exactly."
Ellie looks over and catches him watching. When she lifts a hand and waves, Boone's entire face changes.
Rose's expression softens. She reaches for his hand and squeezes. "You're ridiculous."
"That's what people say when they can't argue with facts."
A few feet away, Faith is halfway through answering an email while the photographer begs everyone to look in the same direction.
Dallas trails behind her, carrying enough bags to stock a small business. He glances at her phone. "Whoever sent that can wait."
"They can't."
"They absolutely can."
Faith keeps typing. "Dallas, this issue affects payroll."
He shifts another bag higher on his shoulder. "Then the company should hire somebody responsible to handle payroll."
Faith finally looks up. "I did."
Dallas smiles. "Excellent. Tell them to get on it."
Brooklyn groans loud enough for half the family to hear. "Can the two of you stop acting like this for one day?"
Faith slips her phone into her pocket. "I'd love to help, sweetheart, but your father keeps encouraging me."
Dallas nods immediately. "I believe in supporting your mother's passions."
Lila catches up and closes her eyes. "You two are awful."
"That's genetic," Dallas says. The photographer blows out a breath that sounds suspiciously like surrender.
Tessa is halfway across a fence before I realize she's chasing Kai. "Kai Michael McCoy!"
Her son pauses at the top rail, grins down at her, then climbs even higher.
Beside me, Clay winces. "That's a long way to fall."
"That's a long way to explain to Tessa," I reply.
A few feet away, Nash is laughing so hard he's completely useless.
Tessa shoots him a look. "Are you planning to help?"
Nash wipes at his eyes. "I tried helping three years ago. He used me as a ladder."
"Our child is a menace."
"Our child is ambitious."
Kai throws both arms wide from his perch like he's just conquered a mountain.
Nash cups his hands around his mouth. "That's my boy."
Tessa groans.
Hailey darts through the crowd carrying a blue ribbon above her head while Max races after her, demanding to know why she gets to hold it.
They disappear between a cluster of cousins before either parent can intervene, and nobody seems particularly alarmed.
At this stage, most of the family operates under the assumption that children usually reappear eventually.
The photographer, meanwhile, looks like he's reconsidering every career decision he's ever made.
Maggie settles into the front row and studies the crowd gathering around her. Her gaze moves from child to grandchild, from spouses to cousins, taking in the sprawling family that fills far more space than the photographer planned for.
A smile tugs at her mouth.
"Well," she says, shaking her head, "we've certainly been busy."
Several people laugh.
Maggie pretends she didn't mean the comment to be funny.
Nobody believes her.
The twins finally make their way over. Henry launches straight into the goat debate before he's fully in position.
Theodore pinches the bridge of his nose. "You've already lost."
"I haven't."
Clay slips an arm around my shoulders while the twins continue sniping at each other.
I settle against his side without thinking about it. After all these years, the motion comes as naturally as breathing. His hand rests against my arm, warm and familiar, and I find myself smiling before I even realize it.
The photographer lifts his camera. "Everybody look over here!"
The request goes largely ignored.
Kai is waving half a funnel cake from his fence-top kingdom.
Henry is making exaggerated faces every time Theodore looks away.
Faith is trying to confiscate Dallas's phone after catching him answering emails during family pictures.
Dallas keeps moving it out of reach.
Boone's attention drifts toward Ellie again, which sends Rose into another fit of laughter.
The photographer lowers the camera and mutters what looks suspiciously like a prayer.
Right then, my phone buzzes in my back pocket.
I pull it out and glance at the screen.
Clay leans over. "Clinic?"
"Clinic."
His eyes light up immediately. "Please tell me it's a weird one."
I open the message and rub a hand across my forehead. "A Labrador ate a lawn chair."
Clay blinks. "The whole thing?"
"Most of it."
His laugh bursts out loud enough to turn a few heads. "That's impressive. Bet you’re glad you took over now!”
I slide my phone back into my pocket. "That's Buckhorn."
The photographer rubs both hands over his face. "Can I get one picture? Just one?"
Maggie settles into the front row and folds her hands in her lap. "You're aiming high."
Nobody argues with her.
Little by little, people start drifting into position. Complaining, bargaining, negotiating, and occasionally listening, but moving all the same.
I feel Clay's hand close around mine.
Years ago, that invitation would've tied my stomach in knots. I would've searched for the edge of the group and convinced myself it made more sense to stand there.
Now Henry is leaning against my side while Theodore argues with him over my shoulder. Clay's thumb brushes across my knuckles. Maggie is already waving people closer whenever they leave too much space between them.
Nobody pauses to decide whether I belong here.
Neither do I.
The flash goes off just as Henry starts another argument, Theodore begins correcting him, Rose doubles over laughing at Boone, and Clay's fingers tighten around mine.
The photograph will probably capture half the family looking the wrong direction.
Someone's eyes will be closed.
Kai will almost certainly be holding that funnel cake.
But as the laughter carries through the crowd and Clay pulls me a little closer, I can't imagine wanting a different picture.
The end.