CHAPTER 16
Morning came differently in Montana.
Randi woke to the ranch’s roaster
announcing the rising sun. The back noise of horses neighing, pigs oinking, and chickens clucking added to the cadence.
It wasn’t the norm she had grown used to in her apartment, but something fuller—wide and open, stretching beyond walls and into the land itself.
For a moment, she lay still beneath the covers, listening.
No traffic. No distant hum of city life.
Just the faint whisper of wind and something else… something alive beyond her window.
She loved the peace, the quiet, of it and knew it was something she could get used to.
Living here in the country was like heaven and made her realize she needed a change in her life.
As much as she loved her cottage, she could become a part of something like this, surrounded by the beauty of nature. Country life was calling her.
She sat up slowly, pushing the covers aside and crossing the room. When she drew back the curtain, the view stole what little breath she had left.
The land was endless.
Rolling into the distance beneath a pale blue sky just beginning to warm with the rising sun. And there—moving like shadows brought to life—horses.
Dozens of them.
Wild. Powerful. Free.
“Oh my God…” she whispered.
A soft knock sounded behind her and her door opened a crack.
“Thought you might be up. Can I come in?”
“And see me without makeup?” She looked down at herself, her short gingham sleepwear exposing her legs.
“You don’t wear makeup,” Brew answered with laughter.
She ran her fingers through her hair and exhaled.
“Come in,” she surrendered with a sigh.
His eyes scanned over her and bright with humor.
“You sure do look cute to me.”
“Oh shush.”
He leaned casually in the doorway, already dressed, already at ease in this world in a way that made everything about him feel different. His persona was rustically manly – not that he wasn’t manly before but, in a more refined way.
She was tempted to reach out and run her hands over the denim shirt he wore. It fitted him like a second skin, defining the sculpted muscles of his pecs and biceps. His jeans were clean but worn and defined what the good Lord gave him sumptuously.
Lord, more patience please, her inner-voice begged.
She forced herself to look away without licking her lips and pointed outside her window.
“You didn’t tell me it would look like this,” she said.
He stepped inside, following her gaze.
“Would you have believed me if I did?”
She shook her head slowly.
“No. The Lord sure did put His all into creating this land.”
A quiet smile touched his lips.
“Come on. I want to show you around before the day gets busy.”
“Can I at least put some jeans on ... Geez Louise,” she blustered.
He chuckled, turned about and darted down the hallway relaying.
“Horses are awaitin’. I’ll meet you outside.”
She stopped abruptly and yelled, “Horses!”
The morning unfolded slowly, naturally.
Brew’s father met them outside, already moving through his routine with a quiet authority that didn’t need explanation. He greeted Randi with a nod that carried more warmth than words, then motioned for them to follow.
“Stay close,” he said simply.
She did.
The horses were closer now, their presence commanding in a way that made her both hesitant and completely captivated.
Braden moved among them with practiced ease, his movements confident, grounded. He spoke softly to one as he adjusted a lead, the animal responding as if it understood every word.
“You don’t force them,” Brew said quietly beside her. “You earn it.”
Randi watched, something settling deep inside her.
“She’s beautiful but, she was injured,” she said.
“Good eye. We came upon her with a foal. Cougar attack.” Braden replied, glancing at her.
Randi’s face registered the pain she felt for the mare.
“She was protecting her baby.”
“Where’s the foal?”
“Vet is checking on her in the barn.
Luckily, mama stomped the cat to death in time to save it.” He replied.
“Luckily, she stomped the cat to death in time to save it.” He replied.
“The mare was lucky,” Brew responded. “Cougars are powerful predators. The one she encountered was nearly eight feet and around one hundred-eighty pounds.”
“Lucky for her that you came upon her.”
A large clanging rented the air, and Randi turned her attention on Brew.
“Is that what I think it is?”
Brandon chuckled loudly.
“Some old traditions never change on a farm, and that’s one of them.”
“Breakfast is ready.” Brew chimed.
Breakfast was loud in the best way.
Blythe moved easily between stove and table, setting down plates with a warmth that filled the space, while Brett carried conversation effortlessly, his humor quick, his observations sharper than she expected.
“So,” he said, leaning back slightly as he studied her, “you’re the one who got him to leave the hospital.”
Randi blinked.
“I didn’t realize that was an accomplishment.”
“Oh, it is,” Brett replied. “We’ve been trying for years.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Brew said.
“I’m just saying,” Brett added, grinning, “you must be something special.”
Randi felt the heat rise faintly to her cheeks, unsure how to respond.
Across the table, Blythe smiled knowingly but said nothing.
Branson, quieter, simply watched, his gaze steady and thoughtful.
And Braden—
Braden shifted his gaze to his wife and their lips curved in a knowing smile … they didn’t have to hear any spoken words. Just being in their son’s presence, seeing the way he and Randi looked at each other and interacted – they knew everything that they needed to know.
Later that afternoon, Randi found herself alone.
Not abandoned.
Not unsure.
Just… drawn.
The land had a way of doing that, of pulling her outward and inward at the same time. She wandered a short distance from the house, her steps slow, deliberate, until she found a place where the field opened wide and the horses moved freely in the distance.
She stood there for a long moment.
Then turned and headed back.
“Do you have anything I can use … to paint?” she asked Brew when she found him near the barn.
“Paint?”
She nodded, shuffling her feet.
“Ah ha.”
His eyes sparkled with surprise.
“Yeah,” he said, “just the right thing. Give me a sec.” He scooted off.
She smiled brilliantly at what he was carrying and bolted forward to help relieve him of his burden.
“What on earth?” She shrilled as she looked at the items he was carrying.
“Just a few things I thought you might need.”
“A few things!”
His arms and hands clutched a small table, folding chair, easel, two blank canvasses, and a wooden painter’s studio case filled with brushes, palette knives and professional oil colors … everything she needed.
“I thought this land might inspire you and –“
“I could kiss you right now.”
In a matter of seconds, he unloaded the items he was carrying and opened his arms wide to receive what she had offered.
Randi giggled and did not hesitate. She darted forward and jumped into his arms as he lifted her cupping her backside.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him heartily. He returned her kiss, matching her ardor, as he spun her about slowly lost in the splendor blossoming between them.,
At first, her strokes were
carefully slow and measured. Each one deliberate as she reacquainted herself with something that had once been instinctive.
But the longer she stood there, the more something shifted.
The land.
The light.
The movement of the horses.
It all found its way into her and then out.
Brew watched from a distance. Not interrupting. Not speaking. Just… witnessing.
The brush moved more freely now, her body swaying slightly with the rhythm she had rediscovered. The tension that had once defined every movement softened, replaced by something more fluid, more certain.
More hers.
He moved closer.
She felt the presence and knew it was him.
He hesitated.
Without turning she smiled and spoke.
“You can come near and look.
He closed the gap between them, circling her from behind and kissed her neck tenderly.
“What do you see?” he asked quietly.
Randi didn’t look at him.
“Their freedom,” she said. “And what it feels like to stand inside it.”
He studied the canvas, then her.
“You’re not just painting what’s there.”
“No,” she replied softly. “I’m painting what it means.”
The sun was beginning to dip lower as the light shifted into something warmer, deeper.
“I can’t believe what you’ve already accomplished after just a few hours. Is your hand okay?”
She turned in his arms, and he kissed the tip of her nose, each cheek, and her lips tenderly.
“I’ll stop. My hand is telling me it’s time.”
She stepped to the side and looked at the canvas with a critical eye.
It held something more than an image. It held feelings, movement, and life.
Brew moved closer, enough now that she could feel the warmth of him without needing to look.
“You’re getting it back,” he said quietly.
Randi exhaled slowly, her gaze fixed on the painting.
“No,” she said. “I’m finding something new.”
Behind them, laughter carried from the house.
Voices. Life. Connection.
Something she had spent years avoiding.
Something she now stood on the edge of.
Randi turned slightly, her gaze meeting Brew’s.
There was no fear in it this time.
Just something softer.
More open.
And for the first time—
She didn’t pull back.