Epilogue
HUDSON
H attie slips off her little pony at an awkward angle and slams into the dirt in a tangle of blonde curls, blue jeans, boots, and pink cowgirl hat. Head down and still prancing across the round yard, the tiny pony sure packs some attitude. She pushes to her feet and dusts off her jeans. Her face crumples, those beautiful big brown eyes crinkling with a swell of tears. And my heart ceases to move.
I resist the urge to run to where she stands. And when she bends down to swipe up her pink cowgirl hat, she releases a string of huffed curses. Addy’s goin’ to have my liver for breakfast if she hears our five-year-old daughter’s workin’ talk.
The Cherokee rolls down the driveway as I take the pony’s reins and Hattie walks over. The instant she notices her mama’s car, she races to the gate of the round yard. When Addy parks in front of the white gate to the homestead, Pa climbs out of the passenger’s seat and walks over.
His gait a little slower these days, he has been riding along with Addy ever since we told my parents about the second baby. He claims it’s for business purposes. We all know he is keeping an eye on Addy so she doesn’t overdo it. Harry Rawlins will never stop caring about his family.
I open the gate for Hattie, and she shoots out to meet him. “Grandpa!”
When she reaches Pa, he swoops down and picks her up, sitting her high in his arms so her five years towers over his almost seventy. Then she leans in and nuzzles him with a harrumph.
“What’s up, pumpkin; what’s with the tears?”
“I fell off.” She leans back up and looks to where I stand with her pony. “And Dada is giving me the tough love ,” she says, pushing out her bottom lip.
“Is that so? Well, you know what you gotta do when ya fall off your horse, little lady?” Harry asks, giving up a quizzical face.
She nods, slowly.
“That’s right, you hop straight back on.”
Addy rounds the car and pads to where Pa stands with Hattie. She thumbs the tears from our little girl’s red cheeks. “Hello, Hattie girl, you been helping Dada?”
She nods furiously. “You fix them horses up good, Mama?”
“Sure did, baby girl. You two have been busy.” Addy nods toward the pony.
“Yeah, but I not sure I wanna anymore.”
Pa lets her down, and she huffs her way back to the round yard.
“Alright, baby, what’s the plan?” I ask.
She stomps her foot, sinking her hands onto her hips.
“Harriette Elouise Rawlins, you poutin’ girl?” I lean on the rail, one foot up on the last rung, and lift the Stetson to look at her. Sighing, she stares at the pony, then walks over to me and lifts her face, little mouth still pouting.
“This cowgirl is gettin’ back on the horse.” Glancing to Harry, she moves closer, and I lean down. “Grandpa said so,” she whispers.
I chuckle as Addy comes to my side. I kiss her, laying a hand on her six-month belly. A boy. Her little man , she says.
Hattie walks over to her pony and takes the reins. She sticks her foot into the stirrup iron but stills. “No, Dada. I can’t.”
Tears run down her little face and my heart wrings out. I crouch down and take her hands in mine. “I know it hurts, baby. But you have to get back on, sweetheart. Mama did.”
“I don’t think I am as brave as Mama.” Her little chin wobbles as she dips her head. Blonde curls fall around her shoulders. Her brown eyes swell with tears.
“You know what, you and Mama are both strong girls, you can do anything. Anything you put your minds to.”
She stares at the pony, then turns back. “Anything, Dada?”
“Yeah baby, anythin’ you want.”
She climbs up. When she pushes the pony into a trot around the yard, Harry and Addy salute her. She giggles, throwing her head back.
Happiness is the freedom a good horse brings.
And the woman who found her way to Montana because she was chasing hers.
Always . . .
That, I know for sure, will never change.