Epilogue
“Could you have made this any bigger?” Eli grunted as he and August shifted the large steel archway upright in the bed of his truck.
“I didn’t make it,” I countered.
“Yeah, well, you ordered it.”
I was prying off the smaller wooden sign we’d mounted to the fence a year ago. “Remember when I offered to pitch in for a crane?”
He laughed through another grunt. “Next time, remind me to shut up and listen to you.”
I walked to his truck and shimmied the old ranch marker into the back seat. “Hey, Eli?”
“Hm?”
“Don’t break my sign.”
“Yes, dear.”
The new hires, Jamie and Brick, snickered as they waited beside Eli’s Ford, ropes at the ready.
I stepped back to watch Eli’s plan play out.
He’d assured me that leverage and manpower could lift the massive metal ranch sign eighteen feet in the air.
Up to the horizontal beam of the wooden frame he’d built the week before.
“Stop worrying,” he said. “We’ve got this.”
I must’ve been biting my lip.
If the past year had taught me anything, Eli’s forte was team-building. After looping the ropes through the sweeping letters, then up and over the beam, he and August hopped to the ground, and the four of them lifted the 300-pound beast out of the truck bed, one swaying foot at a time.
“How’s that?” he called when it hovered just below the frame.
“Higher on the right,” I said. “No, back down. Okay, stop!” When it appeared level, I gave a thumbs up.
Eli and August abandoned their ropes to grab the four-by-fours out of my truck. Meanwhile, Jamie and Brick dug their heels into gravel, struggling to keep the sign aloft. Brick’s arms started shaking, and his face transitioned from red to purple.
“Eli!” I tilted my head to the young new-hire. Contrary to his nickname, he stood almost six feet tall and weighed a hundred and forty pounds wet.
Eli about-faced to trade places with Brick. “I gotcha, man. Go get a post.” He looped the extra rope around his bent elbow, and when he caught me ogling his bulging biceps, he shot me a dirty look. So, I flashed him my bedroom eyes, to which he cursed under his breath.
August and Brick wedged the four-by-fours under the sign to offload the weight. Then, with a ladder, an impact drill, and a pocket full of bolts, August began mounting my metal baby to the beam. When he finished, Brick kicked out the four-by-fours.
I pressed my palms together, stomach tight.
Don’t fall. Don’t fall.
Eli and Jamie eased the ropes until they hung slack. A moment passed. Then another, and nothing came crashing down. I finally allowed myself to breathe.
“See?” Eli said, a little winded. “No problem.” He directed the kids to help August pull the ropes free as he meandered my way. “You like it?”
Sweeping black letters stood prominently against a forget-me-not sky. ‘Rusty Mountain Ranch,’ it said with rearing horses on either end, manes wild and free.
Perfect. “I love it.”
“You'd better,” he teased. “Damn hunk of metal cost a fortune.” Sweat highlighted his arms and neck.
I tapped the brim of his hat up and nodded to his handiwork. “Do you think it should hang more to the left?”
He shot me a scalding look.
I laughed. “I’m kidding!” Sometimes I worried he took my every desire too seriously.
“Well, if we’re giving feedback,” he hooked his finger in my belt loop and pulled me close. “You cannot look at me like that with the guys around.”
“Like what?”
“I think you know.”
Some of the boys assumed Eli and I were married. They teased me for never wearing my ring. Eli and I stopped fighting it. He’d stayed. What did I need a ring for?
“I can’t help it. I’m an arm girl.”
“If you’re not careful, you’re gonna be a pregnant girl.”
Oh? We hadn’t talked about that yet. We hadn’t talked about any next steps that didn’t pertain to the ranch. I assumed he wasn’t ready. Between Nina, college courses, and the youth leadership program, we had our hands full.
Eli slid his finger free of my belt loop and stepped away with a sly smile. “I'd better help the boys pack up.”
He’s joking, right?
Still, the idea of a baby sent a pleasant rush through my chest. “Oh, I forgot to tell you! Terry’s back in town today. Do you mind if he and Kip come for dinner?”
I hadn’t seen Terry for six months. He’d been across the country, visiting old friends in his decked-out RV, thanks to some European heiress, or actress, or something, who came in with a bid that put Steven’s client to shame. Her only stipulations: a short escrow, no questions asked.
“Sure. Might have to hit the store, though. At this rate, I shoulda bought the whole pig.”
“I’ll go right now,” I offered. “Luke gave me a check this morning. I can deposit it and pick up more snacks while I’m out.” Eli’s five teens/preteens could clear out the pantry in two days flat, but with the annual funding generously donated by Luke’s dad’s business, we kept it well stocked.
I gave Eli a quick kiss. “See you back at the ranch.”
Nina stood on the kitchen bench, towering over Bill, when I hauled the first load of groceries from my truck. “Mama, look! I did Abi’s hair!”
Bill pivoted his head for my inspection, looking content as a lion with its pride. “What do you think?” Sparkly clips and bows glinted in his short, white mane. Every hair accessory we owned found a spot in there.
I dumped my armload of bags on the counter. “Very nice! Hey, have you seen Eli? I have a truck full of groceries I could use some help with.”
“He’s uh … he’s working on something.” Bill’s tone gave me an odd aftertaste. “But I can help you.”
“Me too!” Nina insisted, full of enthusiasm.
“Great. It’s all in the truck bed,” I told them.
While they brought in the remaining groceries, I played Tetris in the pantry. I had just forced the last box of protein bars onto an already overflowing shelf when Eli wandered into the kitchen.
I felt oddly relieved. “There you are!”
He tackled the haul of produce, arranging and rearranging fruit in the wire basket on the center island without reply.
I gave one more solid shove to a few boxes and pointed a finger at the precarious stack of snacks. “Stay.” When I exited the pantry, he’d taken everything out and started again. “Should I make the boys a snack before they head home?”
“No. I took them to Taco Bell while you were out.”
Did he change his shirt? An apple fell and rolled onto the floor. Eli picked it up and put it beside the basket. Tension clung to him like a staticky sock from the dryer.
I frowned. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Can I borrow you for a sec?” he asked without looking at me.
I didn’t realize we had other projects lined up for the day. “Okay. When?”
“When you’re done. Grab some water and meet me by the stable?”
“Sure.”
Then he left. Weird.
Eli had Denver and Jessie saddled at the stables when I got there. Jessie was our newest rescue from a breeding operation. A painted-quarter mix with an unusual spot pattern and a thick white stripe down her muzzle. While reserved in the ring, she packed quite a punch on the open trail.
And she was my preferred mount. “We’re going for a ride?”
He looked up from the strap he was tightening. “Yeah. You up for it?”
A little late to be checking with me now. I glanced at the house. “Sure. Let me tell Bill–”
“I already did.”
“Oh?” In the past, these impromptu rides revolved around sorting out feelings. Usually, frustration and overwhelmingness. “Is everything alright? Are your classes okay?”
He adjusted his hat. “Just itching to spend time with you.”
I stopped badgering him. If he had something on his mind, it would come out, eventually.
Eli led us up to the ridge. We stopped with our backs to Phoenix, appreciating the spread of high desert to the south in comfortable silence.
The Gila River wove like a green snake through the abundance of tans and browns.
Steadfast and evolving. It had to be, to survive.
“Have you been up to Hidden Meadows recently?” he asked oddly.
I gave him a questioning look. “No. That’s called trespassing.”
“Oh, right.”
“But August told me that the new owner isn’t tearing it down,” I said. “In fact, she’s hired him to fix a few things.”
Eli laughed. “I’ve heard all about that. Apparently, she’s a piece of work. And here, I thought August got along with everyone.”
This was news to me. Then again, I’d been busy helping in Nina’s kindergarten classroom.
“Do you regret it?” he asked suddenly. “Giving it up?”
This question had chewed me up for months. But I finally had an answer that satisfied me. “No, because letting it go gave me more than what I sought to keep.”
I wondered what spurred this line of questions. Did he have regrets?
Eli took off his hat, scratched his forehead with the bill, then slid it back over brown locks that curled around the edges. “Remember the first time we rode up here?” He turned to catch my gaze. “You were really grouchy. And you assumed I couldn’t ride?”
“I never said that!”
“But you were thinking it.”
“No. I thought you were being overconfident.”
“You said,” he made air quotes with his free hand, “‘For a mechanic, you ride well.’”
I pressed my lips together. “Fine. Yes. I remember that day.” My first ride after Jason’s death. How could I forget?
He smiled finally, and the tightness in my chest eased. “Do you remember what else you said?”
I shook my head.
“You told me you felt lost.” He turned and stared at the view. “That’s when I knew.”
I waited, but he didn’t continue. “Knew what?”
“That I wouldn’t love anyone else.”
I stared at his profile, realizing why he’d been acting so weird, and my heart kicked up to a canter.
“You put words to what I’d felt for years,” he said.
Eli removed his hat, turning it over in his hands, staring at it as he went on.
“I always figured hanging around meant responsibility. And responsibility meant giving everything up. That’s why I became a mechanic.
So, no one got stuck where they didn’t want to be. ”