Matthew’s Epilogue
THREE MONTHS LATER
“G ood morning!” Lauren padded into the kitchen in her bare feet, wearing one of my flannel shirts and a pair of sleep shorts.
Unlike those of us raised on a ranch, our new Director of Finance and Marketing didn’t always get up with the sun.
I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her hair. How did she always smell so good?
“Good morning, sweetheart.” Man, it felt good saying that to her. Every time Lauren walked into a room, I lit up inside. At some point, the shine on our relationship might dull a little, but I still couldn’t imagine that happening. The more I got to know her, the deeper I fell in love.
“Hmmm…” She hummed as she pressed up against me. “You smell like…horses.”
“Just for that, I’m waking you up early tomorrow and making you go on the morning ride.” I gave her behind a squeeze, eliciting a delighted squeal from her, right as Bowie appeared in the doorway.
“Excuse me,” he grumbled. “I thought the kitchen would be a safe space.”
Lauren’s cheeks turned pink as she pulled away from me. “Sorry, Bowie.”
“You don’t need to apologize to him,” I said. “We live here too.”
Over the past three months, so much had changed in my life.
First off, we’d signed the contract to make Lauren half owner of Silver Sage.
Then Bowie, our new Director of Expeditions and Maintenance, moved down from Alaska and into my house—our house now—and we got started on ranch renovation projects.
My new title was Director of Operations and General Manager, which sounded like a big job, but now that I had Lauren and my siblings helping out, they’d actually taken a lot off my plate.
Adjusting to our new roles at the ranch came with some challenges, and the biggest one for me was cohabiting with Bowie.
Even when Lauren was back in New York, he and I butted heads as roommates.
We had different temperaments and were both largely set in our ways; however, I had a plan to rectify that situation soon enough.
Bowie opened the cabinet and pulled out a frying pan. “I’m making second breakfast, and then I’ll get out of your hair.”
Bowie’s first breakfast, before he and I went out to the stables to help Walt, looked like something you’d eat in Scandinavia—strong black coffee, weird looking dark bread with smoked fish, and a bowl of fruit with plain yogurt.
His second breakfast, after we’d done our chores, was always a cheese and spinach omelet.
Although my eating habits were less quirky than his, I’d had to increase my calorie intake, too, so I could keep up with chopping wood, shoveling hay and tearing out rotted drywall.
At least I was in good shape for a guy my age.
“I’m sorry we don’t have much privacy right now,” I whispered to Lauren.
Right on cue, another Hart brother strode into the house.
“Good morning!” Sam, now our official Director of Veterinary Services, entered the kitchen with Jake trotting at his side. Ella was right behind them.
“Ever consider knocking?” Bowie asked.
“Sorry, buddy, we’re on a mission,” Sam said. “The Dude has been kidnapped again.”
Jake pranced around the kitchen in his plaid coat and black booties like a miniature Sherlock Holmes, waiting for someone to drop a treat.
Lauren looked perplexed. “You mean the stuffed marmot from the bar?”
“That’s the one,” Sam said.
Ella’s cheeks were rosy from the cold, and her eyes shone with excitement. “Every six months or so, The Dude gets taken from the bar. A few days later, he’s back, and all these photos of him in various places get uploaded to an Instagram account called TheDudeTravels. Isn’t that wild?”
“That is one of the weirdest Wyoming things I’ve ever heard,” Lauren said. “Do you have any guesses who’s taking him?”
“I have no idea,” Ella said, wide-eyed. “Sam and I are looking for clues. Do you guys know anyone who’s leaving on a trip soon?”
None of us knew a thing, but Ella didn’t look defeated.
“That’s okay,” she said. “We’ll solve this mystery eventually. I wish I got to travel as much as The Dude does.”
“I’m starting to think travel is overrated.” Lauren stifled a yawn. “I wish I didn’t have to go back to New York so often.”
Lauren was still the CFO of Ms. Match, but she was in the process of training someone to take over most of her duties so she could focus on the ranch.
She and Tori were currently deciding how they would advertise and run their retreats.
Then, there was the reality show about dating out west, which was still in pre-production, whatever that meant.
Gigi was thrilled about the show and kept asking if she could be an extra when they filmed at the ranch. The answer to that was a hard no.
“You won’t be wishing you were here in February,” Ella said. “There’s so much snow, Sam has to dig a path for Jake to go pee in the yard. Otherwise, he’d sink, and we’d never find him again.”
“Don’t forget about your snot freezing,” Sam added. “And your hair, if you go outside with a wet head.”
“And the wind.” I shivered thinking about the cold wind that seemed to blow constantly in Wyoming.
“She’ll be fine,” Bowie said with a smirk. “She’s got her cashmere blanket and matcha tea to keep her warm.”
I could tell he liked Lauren because he razzed her about her luxury items. Teasing was Bowie’s love language.
“Yeah, I saw you on the couch the other day taking a nap under my pink cashmere blanket,” Lauren shot back. “Snoring away under there.”
Everyone laughed, including Bowie. “It is soft,” he admitted.
“What are you doing for Thanksgiving, Ella?” Lauren asked. “You’re welcome to join us.”
“That’s sweet of you,” Ella said, “but my mom is part Shoshone, so we don’t celebrate Thanksgiving.”
Her mom, Patty, was taking a new MS medication and doing much better, and Ella had taken up residence in the apartment above the bar instead of living at her parents’ house.
“She’ll eat pumpkin pie later, though,” Sam said. “I sneak some to her every year.”
Ella gave us a guilty smile. “What other time of year can you get pumpkin pie?”
Lauren picked up her mug and took a sip. “I hate to break up this party, but I need to take a shower. Ella, good luck with your marmot mystery.” She blew me a kiss as she walked out of the room.
Bowie tilted his head to the side and stared at me. “What on earth does that lovely woman see in you?”
“That I bathe regularly, for one thing,” I shot back. “Maybe the marmot is hiding in that mangy facial hair of yours.”
Ella and Sam laughed, but it was hardly a joke. His beard was grazing his chest, and it definitely needed grooming. “Are you gonna clean up for our Thanksgiving meal? You look like you wandered in off the highway.”
Bowie cracked two eggs into a bowl, one in each hand, like a magic act. “Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll trim it up a little.”
If our mom were alive, she’d make him shave that thing off or at least wear a hairnet over it in the kitchen.
“I need to get started on the cooking,” I said. “We have to set up the dining room, too. Walt is taking Gigi and the other kids on a trail ride to keep them busy today.”
We were a big party for Thanksgiving this year.
Faith and her daughters, Vesper and Lyric, were staying at Cottonwood Cottage, and they’d invited Gigi to bunk with them.
She was beyond thrilled to spend time with her older cousins.
Lauren had family staying with us at the ranch, too.
Tori, her boyfriend Nick, and his three teen daughters were lodging in the Bluebell cottage.
When Lauren invited her sister for Thanksgiving, I didn’t really expect her to say yes, but Mama Cozzi was on a cruise with Rocco and his partner, so the timing was perfect.
Sam backed up toward the door. “I have to see a few clients this morning, so I’ll have to come back later to help with the cooking. I’m bringing pumpkin and pecan pies, three of each. C’mon, Jake!” His little pal ran to his side, long ears flapping.
Ella waved to us. “See you soon!”
“I can move around the furniture in the dining room so we can seat everyone.” Bowie poured his eggs and vegetables into the pan. “Do you want me to set the tables, too?”
“That would be great. Lauren, Faith and I can do most of the cooking. Faith is also going to work on making centerpieces.”
There was another knock at the door as Faith appeared with a basket full of plant clippings. “Was that Sam I saw leaving?”
“You’ll be shocked,” I said, “but he managed to get out of helping us chop wood and move furniture.”
Faith laughed. “Give him a break. He’s probably going to put his hand up a cow’s butt later today. That’s much worse than chopping wood.” She started reaching for the pull on one of the upper cabinets. “Do you still have Mom’s vases in here?”
“Probably.” I reached up to open it for her, then followed her directions to take out all the vases she needed.
“I touched up all the tablecloths and napkins with an iron yesterday,” she said, “and we’re preparing enough food for a small army. Vesper is making hot cider. Lyric wanted to make a charcuterie board for appetizer hour. I told her I wasn’t sure if we were doing apps, but then I figured, why not?”
“Charcuterie board?” Bowie lifted his eyebrows. “This is the New Yorker’s influence.”
“Says the guy who buys imported Swedish bread.” My phone buzzed with a text from Sam, which I quickly scanned. “Sounds like we need to set two more places. Sam just remembered he invited Cal and Austin to join us.”
“He what?” Faith’s voice hit a shrill note.
“He ran into them at the feed store yesterday, and they were going to be alone at the ranch this year.” I looked back at his message. “I’m supposed to text them the time.”
“And he’s telling us this now? On Thanksgiving day? Flipping Sam.” That was the closest Faith ever came to swearing, and it meant she was seething, which seemed like an outsized reaction, but I wasn’t going to be the one to tell her that.
“Do two more people really matter?” Bowie asked, as Faith folded her arms on her chest. “You said we have a ton of food.”
Quick as a rattlesnake strike, her disposition changed. “You’re right.” She turned her back to us and began plucking through the greenery in her basket. “We can make room. It’s good he asked them.”
Bowie and I exchanged knowing looks because we’d lived with our mercurial sister for eighteen years in that house.
Maybe she was feeling the pressure of feeding so many people, although she wasn’t doing it alone.
We were certainly all pitching in and doing our part.
Bowie and I had both tried to convince her to move back to Three Rivers, suggesting she take on a position at the ranch dealing with staff or hospitality, but she kept resisting that idea.
I was hoping this trip would make her change her mind because if anyone needed a fresh start, it was Faith.
“I’m going to shower,” I said. “Then I need to check that turkey.”
I’d brined the bird the day before in a mixture of salt and citrus, the way Chef Damon had directed me by email.
I tried to get him out to the ranch for Thanksgiving, but he’d taken a job as a personal chef for actors who lived in a six-million dollar Brooklyn brownstone, and they wanted him to cook their holiday meal.
They were sober, too, which worked out well for him, and he sounded happy with his job, at least as happy as a curmudgeon can be.
They only needed him for six months, so he’d be available in time for summer season at the ranch.
Before Lauren fully committed to re-hiring Chef Damon, she’d had lunch with him in the city to check on how he was doing and, according to her, clean living agreed with him.
She said he looked ten years younger and even smiled a few times.
Lauren was still in the shower in our bathroom, which was good luck for me. The air was steamy, but I could make out her form behind the foggy shower doors.
“Any room in there for me?” I asked.
“Sure,” she said. “Come join me.”
“Someone told me I smell like horses.” After shucking off my clothing, I stepped into the steam with her. “Help me get cleaned up?”
She grabbed the pink bathing sponge she’d brought with her and pumped some sweet smelling lavender soap onto it.
Before Lauren, I washed with my parents’ ancient washcloths and bar soap from The General Store, so this was a new, perfumed world for me.
Lauren began rubbing the soapy water over my chest, but this wasn’t merely a seduction on her part.
She was serious about her job of getting me clean, which made me smile.
You didn’t become a multi-millionaire entrepreneur by getting sidetracked from your purpose.
After my chest and neck, she addressed my armpits, shoulders and arms, and then she went back to my chest.
“A little lower,” I told her, keeping my voice serious.
She looked up at me and smiled, trailing her washcloth to my stomach. “Right here?”
I tilted my head. “That’s good, but a little lower.”
She laughed and followed my lead, moving the washcloth downwards. “Hmmm…right here?”
“Now that you mention it”—I leaned my head toward hers—“that spot needs a little attention.” Our mouths met and the pink sponge fell to the floor. Lauren’s hands wrapped behind my neck, pulling me down into a deep kiss.
“Dad!” A little hand banged on the bathroom door.“Daddy!”
I groaned as Lauren and I stilled. “Sorry,” I whispered, but she just laughed. “What is it?” I called out to Gigi.
“Elijah is hurt! He got into a fight last night, and Walt just found him. He’s got a bad cut on his side and his ear is injured, too. We called Sam, but I want you to come with me to the barn.”
“Okay, give me one second. I’m getting out.” I laid my forehead against Lauren’s, the warm water still running over us. “I’m sorry. It’s not always this crowded around here.”
“It’s fine,” she said. “Honestly, I love having everyone here. Did you tell Bowie our plan yet?”
“Not yet, but I will.”
There was more knocking on the door, less furious this time. “Are you coming, Dad?”
I sighed and kissed Lauren one last time before getting out of the shower. “We’ll revisit this later.”