Chapter 29
“ I think you should do it today,” Wilder said as he hefted another portion of hay over the side of the feeder.
He didn’t normally have to do much with the horses, as Rock tended to and trained them almost exclusively at Shiloh Ridge.
He’d been taking farrier classes, though.
He had to go to school down in Hondo for a couple of weeks every few months.
He’d only started in the fall and had only been gone twice.
This time, Wilder had volunteered to care for the horses.
Henry and Angel Marshall had also offered Rock the opportunity to come intern at Lone Star, which would take him from the ranch more often while he earned that certificate.
Then Rock planned to return to Shiloh Ridge, where he’d work and live permanently.
“I just don’t know,” Gun said.
“Today’s the last day of school before the holiday break, right?” Wilder asked, semi-irritated with his cousin and best friend. He didn’t understand why Gun couldn’t just pull the trigger and ask Camila to marry him. She was going to say yes. Everyone knew it.
Gun sighed. “I just need to do it. I wish I knew what Rock was doing.”
“What does it matter what Rock does?” Wilder asked.
“You’ve met Clover, right?” Gun asked. “She’s been planning her wedding since she was three years old.”
“And I’m sure she’ll get exactly what she wants,” Wilder said, thinking of how Rock treated Clover like his queen. “It doesn’t matter if it’s the day before you get married, or the same day, or the day after, or a month later, or within six months. We’re all gonna be there at both weddings anyway.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Gun said, and he sounded absolutely resigned.
“And besides, he hasn’t even asked Clover,” Wilder said.
“He has the ring, though.”
“Yeah, so do you,” Wilder shot back. He moved around the stable, putting things away before stepping over to the station where Rock kept a standing desk with his meticulous notes on the horses. “Look, I have to do Rock’s paperwork. I think you know what that means.”
Gun chuckled. “Yeah, you’re gonna get in trouble when he gets back.”
Wilder laughed with him. “Probably,” he said. “But I’m glad he’s doing the farrier thing. This way, he’ll be able to do all the horse care here at the ranch once he’s done.”
“Yep.” Gun said the short, sharp answer, reminding Wilder that Gunnison didn’t like talking about work on the ranch.
He felt like he didn’t have one, despite Wilder telling him over and over and over that he did.
He was as vital as everyone else who worked there, something Wilder’s daddy had drilled into him since the day he started toddling around after him on the ranch.
Everyone here is important, his father had said.
Just because I co-own the ranch with Uncle Bear doesn’t make either of us better than anyone else.
We can’t bring in the harvest without every single cowboy in the cabins helping.
We can’t move the animals without horses.
Heck, I wouldn’t even know what pasture to put them in without Uncle Ward.
Wilder had taken over his daddy’s responsibilities on the ranch, which meant a lot of overseeing, office work, and scheduling.
Link worked on the agricultural side with Gun, and Uncle Ward would be fully phased out in only a couple more weeks when the New Year began.
Uncle Preacher had retired a couple of years ago, though he still came out for big things like the cattle drive and the calving roundup.
Just thinking about calving made a new thread of exhaustion pull through Wilder.
That scheduling alone caused headaches and nightmares.
His desk in his wing of the homestead was covered with papers—just like Rock’s station out here in the stable—and right now, most of them revolved around making sure their cattle delivered as many calves as possible.
“Just make sure you’re back from the Edge pasture by four-thirty,” Wilder said. “Me and the girls will have everything ready. All you’ll need to do is shower and get Camila to the downtown park.”
Wilder pulled in a breath and held it, expecting Gun to postpone the proposal again.
If he agreed, Wilder would have several phone calls and texts to make, and he’d have to leave the ranch by four o’clock with Fawn, Pearl Jo, and Betty to get everything ready for the proposal.
His heartbeat stormed through his body, because he just wanted this done.
Relief chased it when Gun said, “All right. We’ll be there at six.”
Wilder blew his breath out. “Finally. You’re gonna be so happy when this is over. Then you guys can sit down and plan a date. Rock will just deal with whatever that is. If he wanted to control things, he would’ve asked Clover by now.”
“Okay,” Gun said. “I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
“No,” Wilder said. “Nothing is going to change. We’ll see you in the downtown park at six.” With that, he hung up, a scoff coming out of his mouth. “That man,” he muttered.
He did the paperwork that Rock required quickly and then sent texts to everyone he needed to come help him set up in the park.
Gun and Camila had known each other for years, but the hot romantic spark between them had started at a summer dance in the downtown park in Three Rivers.
Gun hadn’t even wanted to go, and Wilder and Smiles had dragged him along.
Then they hadn’t seen him for the rest of the night.
It was only later that Wilder learned that he and Camila had bumped into each other, got to talking and dancing, and Gun had stolen her away down one of the trails in the park to a bridge that overlooked one of the three rivers that ran through town.
He'd kissed her there that very night.
It had been Pearl Jo who’d finally suggested the winning proposal idea—roses and twinkle lights on the bridge. Since it was December and not exactly warm, Gun wanted a thermos of hot chocolate and Camila’s favorite pastries from the Pennsylvania: pistachio croissants.
Are you going to order the croissants? Fawn asked on their group text, causing Wilder to frown.
I hope they have them , he said. It’s already ten-thirty in the morning.
Call right now , Pearl Jo said. I’ve got the lights in my car. We can bring the hot chocolate too.
I’ll call the florist , Wilder said.
I just tried , Fawn said. Their line is down.
Wilder’s frown deepened. A phone line can go down?
Apparently someone was doing some tree cleanup next door , Fawn said. They cut right through the wires. If we want flowers, someone’s gonna have to go to town and order them.
Wilder left the barn, fully expecting Betty to volunteer to do that. She lived in town, after all. She could pick the roses up on the way to the park.
Heck, Wilder could do that. Did they really need to order them? Wouldn’t a good flower shop always have red roses?
When no other text came in by the time he reached the house, Wilder pulled out his phone and checked it.
I can’t believe he’s doing it today, Betty had said. I’m in Amarillo, remember?
No, Wilder had not remembered that, because he couldn’t keep every person’s schedule in his head.
What time is he doing it? she asked in a second text. Maybe I can make it back in time.
Six , Wilder said. I’ll go to town and order the flowers.
The air pressed down on him with the weight of gravity, and Wilder just wanted to escape it. He jogged up the steps to his wing of the homestead, swiped his truck keys from the hook beside the door, patted his back pocket to make sure he had his wallet, and headed back out.
He kept the radio off on the way to town, trying to sort through his own thoughts and feelings and listen for any guidance and direction from God.
Aunt Willa had spoken about God’s timing at church only a few days ago, and Wilder had been reminded that God knew of him, loved him, and expected him to learn patience.
You didn’t know what that meant, he pressed against it, because he didn’t want to be patient.
He had one Glover wedding on Saturday, as Mitch would marry Lacy at his place on the east side of town.
Gun would be engaged tonight, and Rock very soon after that.
He told himself that no one else was dating anybody seriously .
Maybe all he had to do was make it through the next year, and he wouldn’t feel so jealous.
“But if not,” he said out loud, coming to the first stoplight on the southern end of town. “I will be as patient as I can, Lord.”
He continued on to the flower shop, the bell on the front door chiming merrily as he entered. It seemed busier than it should be on a Wednesday afternoon, but Wilder figured if people couldn’t order online or over the phone, they had no choice but to come in.
He waited behind another gentleman wearing a cowboy hat and holding a vase filled with pink, yellow, and orange blooms. Wilder let himself get transported to a slower, earlier time—one where the internet didn’t exist, and people couldn’t order things online.
Where everyone had to leave their house and make the drive to town in order to purchase the things they wanted. No front-door delivery.
Part of Wilder yearned for that, and the other part sure did like opening his front door and picking up the item he needed today that he’d ordered only yesterday.
He made it to the front of the line and reached into his back pocket as he nodded toward the refrigeration case behind the desk. “Is that one two-dozen red roses?”
“Yes, sir,” the older woman said, and Wilder recognized Maryann from the many church functions he’d attended over the years.
“I’ll take that,” he said.
“Any cards or balloons to go with it?” Maryann asked.
“No, thank you.”
She turned and picked up the intricate glass vase with patterns running up and down it, the flowers arranged just-so and bursting out of the top in a beautiful arrangement.