Chapter 34
maverick
It’s a soft day. The sky hangs low and gray as if pulled down by the grief of bidding Earl goodbye.
The pasture hill is quiet except for the wind through the pines.
Earl always said he wanted to rest “Where the land can still breathe.”
He didn’t want to be buried in a cemetery, but at Longhorn, where he lived most of his life; where he gave his blood and sweat, and ultimately his last breath.
Aria picked a spot for him, right at the crest, facing west.
It overlooks the cattle trails and the orchard.
Nadine and Tomas, who were closest to Earl, agree with her choice, deeming it perfect for their beloved friend and mentor.
“Fitting,” Nadine said with a smile. “He always wanted to keep an eye on things.”
The service is simple—just a few friends and family.
Most of Wildflower Canyon will show up for the wake in a few hours. A goodbye that will be in complete contrast with the one Longhorn Ranch hosted a few months ago, when Rami passed.
No fancy catering or wine. Just barbecue, coleslaw, beer…cowboy grub.
Father McKay stands by Earl’s grave, the wind stirring the collar of his worn black coat.
“At Rami’s funeral, he asked me if heaven had coffee strong enough to wake the dead,” Father McKay begins. “I told him, ‘If it doesn’t, Earl, you’ll be the one to teach the angels how to brew it right.’”
A soft murmur of laughter rolls through the gathered mourners.
“Now, I’m a man of scripture,” he continues, glancing out over the crowd, “but Earl believed more in work than in words—more in action than praise. And I think God makes special room for men like him. Men who love the land. Who tell the truth straight, even when it stings. Who’d rather mend a fence than talk about their feelings. ”
Aria squeezes my hand. She told me last night that she finally has the courage to lean on me. I told her it’s my honor—and I mean it.
When a woman as strong as Aria chooses to stand beside you, to let you care for her, it’s not just trust. It’s a gift.
I feel lucky. Deeply, immeasurably lucky.
Father McKay pauses, clearing his throat, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Earl was a straight shooter, as y’all know. He always said, ‘If I die and find out heaven’s a dry county with no brothel in sight, I’m turnin’ right around.’”
A low ripple of laughter rolls through the gathered crowd.
The priest grins. “And I always asked, ‘You think you’re headed to heaven, Earl?’ Earl would slap his thigh and go, ‘Damn right, Padre—God owes me for puttin’ up with half the jackasses in this town.’”
Laughter rises, some of it through tears. Even Aria lets out a choked laugh.
“Earl, I hope heaven is everything you want it to be.” Father McKay’s voice drops. “We’ll miss you, old friend.”
He nods at Aria. She smiles and tips her chin in acknowledgement.
Nadine wipes her eyes. Vera is holding Benji’s hand tightly. He’s been bawling his eyes out. Tomas is quiet, standing a little away from the few of us here, his hat close to his chest, as if he’s saying his own goodbye.
“So, you know Earl wasn’t a eulogy kinda cowboy, and he’d roll his eyes if he knew I was standing up here talking about him. He always said a man’s work should speak louder than his name ever could. But today, I have to speak because Earl was Longhorn’s backbone, and for me, he was family.”
She pauses as if gearing herself for the really hard stuff. She looks at me, and I nod, silently telling her, ‘You’ve got this.’
“He didn’t say much. Y’all know, he mostly grunted.”
Nadine laughs. Others join in.
“But when he did talk, you listened because beneath all that gruff was a steady, loyal heart. He taught me what it means to belong to the land, to fight for something even when you’re tired and out of hope.
He believed in doing what was right, not what was easy. And he believed in this place. In me.”
She stops to collect herself again. She doesn’t want to cry, she told me earlier, not here, not now, maybe later, “I can fall apart, and you can hold me?”
Like I said, it’s an honor to be the man who holds her.
“I don’t know how we’ll fill the space he’s left behind except”—her voice breaks, but she keeps reading—"to keep showing up like he did. Early, stubborn, and ready to get to work. That’s how I’ll honor him. Goodbye, friend and father figure.”
She didn’t cry then.
She didn’t cry as Wildflower Canyon gathered at the ranch house—neighbors, old hands, distant cousins, people showing up with casseroles and careful expressions. Some came to pay their respects. Some came because they truly loved Earl.
And some came to gossip. About Hudson and Celine. About Tate, who—according to not-so-secret grand jury whispers—has turned state’s witness against Celine. Nothing stays quiet long in Wildflower Canyon.
It’s the juiciest thing to hit this town of sprawling ranches since someone tried to shoot Duke and ended up wounding Elena instead.
But now it’s just us, and Aria is crying.
We’re where Earl’s been put to rest.
Aria kneels by the grave, palms resting in the dirt like she’s anchoring herself to it. I sit beside her in the dirt, letting the silence fall where words can’t go. I watch her reach out and brush some of the freshly turned soil like she’s smoothing down a blanket.
“I’m not running, Earl,” she says, her voice splintering. “I’m here. I stayed. I’m going to fight for this place. Just like you did.”
She lies down like she did with Rami. Her cheek to the earth, one hand curled beside the simple wooden cross.
“Goodnight, old man,” she murmurs. “Get some rest, okay? Say hi to Papa for me.”
My throat tightens like there’s a rope pulled taut across it.
I spoon her from behind, and we stay, the turned earth still soft beneath us, the burden of our loss pressing down like a second sky.
When she’s ready, she lets me help her up.
But before we leave, she kisses her fingers and presses them to the cross.
As we walk, we hold hands.
I haven’t held hands…God I don’t know…since I was a teenager?
Now, it feels good to have her small hand in mine. Her soft against my hard. Her strength bolstering mine.
“I keep thinkin’ if Longhorn is worth losing Earl.”
I stop and turn her around, put my hands on her shoulder. “I need you to listen to me.”
Her head moves in a slow nod.
“You didn’t deserve any of this. Not the exile. Not Hudson. Not Celine. You’ve survived; you’re standing. You’ve kept the ranch alive. You got those cattle to auction. You fought for every inch of ground you walk on. Earl wanted that. He thought it was worth it. You know this.”
Her whole body seems to soften under the weight of the moment. “I miss him.”
“Yes.”
Silence.
“She hated me so much,” she whispers, still confused and horrified about her sister’s role in everything that happened at Longhorn.
“Celine’s circuitry is not like yours or mine. She’s different.”
Her lips lift. “You mean she’s crazy?”
“Something like that.”
“She’s crazy to go to this extent, and for what?” She’s still working to wrap her head around Celine and her motives. “Money? Was losing Hudson worth it? I didn’t like him much at the end, but no one deserves a violent death like that.”
I think Hudson got exactly what he earned, but Aria is too soft-hearted to feel that way. Hell, she’s insisting on holding off on buying a new tractor to pay for Celine’s defense.
She won’t let me help financially…not yet, but I’m working on it.
She leans in, slow at first, but then all at once, like she’s been holding herself upright too long. Her head finds the space just beneath my chin, and her fingers curl into my shirt.
“I’m so damn tired, Mav.”
“I know, darlin’.”
I kiss her temple. She smells like soap and hay and heartbreak.
I love her more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life.
“Take me to bed, Maverick.”
“Yeah, I can do that.”
“And make love with me.”
“Yeah.” I chuckle. “I can definitely do that.”
We make soft love that night. It’s not just lust, it’s a connection, it’s a renewal, and it’s a promise. It’s about all the nights she went without kindness. It’s about everything she lost, and everything she’s finding again with me.
We move together like the world outside has gone quiet, and it’s just us, holding each other, healing each other.
After, she lies tucked against me, her hand resting on my chest, her leg slung over mine.
“I need to run somethin’ by you.”
She raises her head, rests her chin on my chest. “Okay.”
“You don’t have to carry this alone anymore,” I say softly.
“Hmm,” she murmurs.
I stroke her back. “Longhorn and Kincaid don’t have to be separate. We can combine our operations. Legally clean, no strings except the ones we choose to tie. We’re stronger together, and you know it.”
She gives me a measured look, but there’s no fear or suspicion in her eyes. We’ve come a long way in a short time.
“And you want to do this out of the goodness of your heart?”
“No.” I grin. “I want to do it because I’m in love with you. And because we’re getting married.”
She chokes out a gasp. “Excuse me?”
I press a kiss to her shoulder. “Since we’re getting married, I don’t see why you’re still resisting.”
“You haven’t even asked me,” she mutters, amused.
“I’m not gonna ask,” I tell her. “You might say no. I’m just gonna wear you down.”
She laughs.
“You’re mine,” I announce.
She nestles closer, and her voice is a whisper, “I haven’t said yes.”
“You will,” I murmur, brushing a kiss to her temple. “You just don’t know it yet.”