Chapter 28
HUDSON
By the time the ranch gate came into view, Ivy blinked awake, all sleep-tangled hair and heavy lids.
She’d worked so damn hard today during her therapy session, and her new therapist had praised her progress.
The minute we pulled out of Dr. DeWitt’s lot, Ivy crashed hard, thumb in her mouth, cheek stuck to the car seat strap, the empty sticker sheet for “good listening” crinkled in her fist.
I parked near the paddock and lifted her out of her new car seat Matty had insisted on getting fitted for his truck, which felt more like mine now that I drove it all the time. Ivy wrapped both legs around my waist koala-style, still clutching the sticker sheet.
“Horsey?” She straightened up, twisting to look at the fence line where Gray and Lawson were breaking in one of Matty’s new rescues. Ozzie, who was next to Lawson’s husband, Opie, was watching the spectacle, but he raised an arm and waved us over.
“Want to watch the horsey?” I tucked a strand of hair behind Ivy’s ear. “Papa is gentling a horse that Matt rescued. Want to watch?”
She gave a solemn, sleepy nod that turned into a sudden little squeal when she spotted Opie’s pet—a fat hen wearing a tutu and a straw hat tied under her beak.
What in the world is Opie up to now?
“Ms. Cwuck!” Ivy crowed, kicking to be let down. I set her on her feet, and she launched toward Opie, who scooped the hen like she was a toy poodle and not a chicken with opinions.
“Well, look who woke up pretty,” Opie singsonged, his smile as bright as usual.
His jeans were paint-splattered in three colors, and his T-shirt read BAWK OFF in glitter vinyl.
He tilted Ms. Cluck so Ivy could pat the feathery bustle.
“You like her skirt? She’s wearing sunflower yellow with a trim of gingham ribbon. We’re going seasonal, darling.”
Ozzie leaned an elbow on the fence beside him, shaking his head but grinning. “Seasonal. For a chicken.”
“Not just a chicken.” Opie tipped the straw hat on Ms. Cluck’s head with two fingers. “An influencer. Tell him, Ms. C. We’re going viral.”
Ms. Cluck blinked at us, unimpressed, and let out a soft chortle.
Ivy giggled and smoothed the tutu like she was checking for wrinkles. “Pwetty,” she whispered. “Isn’t she pwetty, Daddy?”
I kept a straight face. “She’s stunning, Bug.”
Opie winked at me as though he figured I wasn’t fooling him.
“We’ve been doing little livestreams. We’re calling it No “Clucks Given”.
At first, I started it for fun to keep me occupied while Daddy’s honing those muscles on the ranch, but folks have been tuning in for the couture and staying for the clucks.
Somebody DM’d me to make a hen harness and a party hat set.
A commission. Can you imagine? My big break is coming courtesy of poultry. ”
“You should do it.” I grinned. Just imagining the whole thing—Opie trying to get Ms. Cluck to stand still while wrestling with a tape measure—was too damn good. “Can’t have Ms. Cluck be the only well-dressed hen in the county.”
Opie gasped, hand to his chest like I’d just knighted him. “Hudson Granger, don’t tempt me with success. Ms. Cluck here deserves to be the face of a movement. Why should Paris have all the runways when we’ve got Bristlecone Springs’ finest feathers?”
Ms. Cluck fluffed her wings like she’d understood, the tutu bouncing, and Ivy squealed, clapping her hands. “Pwitty chicken!”
“You want a pet chicken too, Ivy?” Opie asked. “Because I have one that looks just like Ms. Cluck that you can raise.”
My face dropped, and I shook my head, making a sign with my hands for Opie to abort that mission.
Sure, hens were cute, but they crapped all over the place.
Training them to use a litter box wasn’t as easy as training dogs or cats.
I’d heard enough complaints from Lawson before Opie finally got Ms. Cluck to use hers.
Why would he want to inflict that torture on Matty and me?
“Yay, Daddy, can I have the chicken?” Ivy looked up at me with big eyes. “Daddy puh-leeze.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. We don’t have the time to raise a chicken right now. Maybe when you get older and are more responsible.”
“So tomorrow?”
“We’ll see.”
“Don’t worry, lovebug.” Opie ruffled her hair. “Daddy can take you over to play with Ms. Cluck anytime.”
“Opie, you’re killing me,” I groaned.
The mischievous boy grinned. “If you can’t make it, I know one very dedicated stepdad who would do anything for Ivy.”
Beyond them in the paddock, the horse Gray and Lawson were working had opinions of his own. He was stocky and bright, with a hide of red that looked lit from inside, but the sheen broke across an old scar tracking down his flank, pale against the copper coat. He wore a snaffle and a long line.
Lawson had him circling, but the gelding wasn’t in the mood for circles.
He shied at the far corner, showed a flash of white around his eyes, then tossed his head hard enough for the line to sing.
There were patches along his neck where hair hadn’t grown back smooth, like someone had yanked at him too rough, too often.
Ivy climbed a lower rail and hooked her elbows over the top one, and I steadied her with an arm.
Her little boots—another gift from Matty—knocked softly against the boards.
Every time the horse crow-hopped, she jumped and then laughed, like she was on a roller coaster.
The sound cut right through my chest, pure, easy joy.
Lawson clucked once, and the colt surged, tried to bolt through the far side where the fence shadow darkened the dirt.
Gray was already there, flag up but gentle, body turned in anticipation.
The colt danced sideways, bunched like a spring, then froze and snorted.
He wasn’t mean, but he carried his fear like a spark in dry grass. The kind that could catch.
Opie whistled low. “He’s a spicy meatball, but how hot do our men look working with him? Watching Daddy makes me want to lick—eek!” He rubbed his side from Ozzie elbowing him in the rib.
“Remember the baby,” Ozzie hissed.
“I was gonna say to lick an ice cube!”
Yeah, right.
“Gray thinks he was overhandled in a halter,” Ozzie murmured. “It’s good that Matty found him so he can be with people who will care for him.”
Speaking of the devil…
A distant drumming pulled my eyes past the paddock, down the lane that curved along the cottonwoods. A copper horse came into view at an easy lope, hide gleaming like brass under the sunlight. In the saddle, sun flashing off a familiar figure, was Matty. My heart did its traitor’s lift.
Ivy saw him a second later. She made a sound that wasn’t quite a word and wasn’t quite a squeal, then turned it into both. “Maaaatt!”
Thank fuck I was holding on to her, or she would have tumbled off her perch in her haste to run to Matty. I held her back, an arm around her waist, while her little legs ran in thin air.
The horse slid into a jog, then a walk, ears flicking forward as they approached the fence. Matty was a whole new person when he was on a horse, loose but focused, alive, and respectful of the animal he trusted. He tipped his hat to us and grinned at Ivy like she’d hung the moon.
“Well, look what I found,” he said. “Three handsome fellas, a princess, and what the heck is that chicken wearing?”
Ivy stuck her chin out. “I’m not a pwincess. I’m a cowboy like Matt!”
Matty put a hand over his heart. “My mistake. My apologies to the ranch’s newest hand.”
Ivy beamed. “Can I ride the horsey, Daddy? Wanna ride wi’ Matt.”
“Matt’s working, Bug,” I said.
“Cowboy!” Ivy cried.
I rolled my eyes over her head so she couldn’t see. “Sorry, I meant Matt’s working, cowboy.”
“Puh-leeze, Maaaatt!”
She gave him her puppy dog eyes, and I knew he wouldn’t say no to her. He seriously needed to grow a spine, or Ivy would walk all over him.
“I can take her around, slow for a minute.”
“You’re such a pushover.” I shook my head but couldn’t stop smiling. Every day I fell more in love with him when I watched his interactions with my little girl.
Ivy’s eyes went wide, glitter-bright. “Up!”
Ozzie set Ms. Cluck gently back on Opie’s forearm. “Ms. C would like to supervise from the cheap seats.”
“Who are you calling cheap?” Opie griped, to which we laughed.
I boosted Ivy up while Matty reached down for her. Ivy landed in front of him with a breathless giggle and two small hands fisted in the mane like she’d been born doing it. I had a feeling it wasn’t the first time Matty had her on that horse.
Ivy’s laugh rang clear. She sat with back straight and proud as Matty took her on a slow pace around the perimeter of the paddock.
On the second lap, he let Junebug lift into the tiniest little gallop, just a few strides, and Ivy squealed, high and thrilled.
He eased them back down and brought her over.
“All done, cowboy.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and handed her down to me. “You rode like a champ.”
She touched her chest, breathless. “I did it all by self.”
“Just about,” he said solemnly. “You did most of it. I’m so proud of you.”
Opie dabbed at his eyes with a nonexistent handkerchief. “I’m emotional. Ms. C, capture my good side.”
Ms. Cluck blinked left. Even the hen knew he was too much.
Ozzie tapped Ivy’s nose. “It’s getting hot out here. You want a pop? We’ve got grape, orange, and the blue one that turns your mouth the color of the sky.”
“Blue!”
“Of course you do.” Ozzie held a hand out to Ivy, then looked to me. “I’ll take her inside until you’re ready to leave.”
“Thanks, Ozzie. I’ll see you in a bit, Ivy.”
“Bye bye, Daddy! Bye Matt!”
Opie tucked Ms. Cluck under his arm like a sequined clutch. “Ms. C and I shall escort the lady to refreshments.”
Opie wiggled his fingers at us as they headed up the lane, Ivy already chanting “bwoo pop, bwoo pop” as she skipped alongside Ozzie.
I folded my arms on the top rail and eyed Matty, who was staring at me in that knowing way of his. “Therapy go okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, and the word came out softer than I meant. “She worked really hard.”
He didn’t push. Just nodded and watched with me, quiet and sure.
“Ride with me.”
My face turned red. “Matt—”
He laughed out loud. “I meant the horse, Huds. We’re giving your ass a break, remember? Or are you too sore to seat a saddle?”
“I’m good. I’ll go saddle Big Red.”
“No.” He scooted back and patted the space in front of him. “You ride with me.”