Chapter 31
Lacey
The sound of the saddle's leather moving with the horse’s step, and the view of this side of our mountain and the valley below, brings back a memory for me, not long before my Daddy died.
“Sometimes I think the good lord wanted to make you a boy but stopped last minute and decided you were going to be a girl.” My father’s voice catches me off guard.
We are on the side of the mountain on the back side of our land, checking fences. He didn’t take me out with him often, but when he did, I took all the lessons he gave me to heart. He was my best friend, besides my mother, and the person I wanted to make proud the most.
I am and will forever be a daddy’s girl.
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” I raise an eyebrow, and he chuckles.
“You can break a horse better than any man I have ever met—even myself.” He smirks. “You can run circles around anyone when doing work or chores around the farm.” He shrugs. “But I am glad you are my daughter, Lace.”
I smile. “Me too, daddy.”
The horses walk on up the side of the hill until we make it to the top, looking down below at the ranch below us. Daddy hasn’t been himself lately, sadder and angrier than his normal demeanor. It makes me wonder what he is not telling me.
He looks out at the land below us, taking a deep breath and then releasing it.
“Daddy, what’s wrong?” I ask.
An unshed tear creases his eyes. I don’t think I have ever seen my father cry.
“We all have choices we must make in this life, Lace,” he says, looking straight ahead. “And sometimes those choices can affect the rest of your life.”
“Okay.” I answer, not sure what he is talking about.
“Promise me something,” he starts, his voice hoarse.
“Anything, Daddy.” I say turning to him.
His Adam’s apple rises and falls. “Promise me that one day, when your mother and me aren’t here anymore, you will do whatever it takes to keep this family together and this farm running.”
“Daddy. Let’s not talk about such things like that. You and Mama aren’t leaving for a long time.”
His eyes hold mine, a single tear falling down his face. “Sweetheart, none of us are promised tomorrow. We are all walking around on borrowed time. Promise me, Lacey.”
I grab his hand, still unsure of the real reason behind all of it. “I promise, Daddy.”
“You are the strong one out of you and your brother. I need you to do what needs to be done to keep this place running. Let the land, the animals, and the work to keep it going keep you sane. There will be people who try to buy it from you, but don’t let them.”
He grabs my hand and squeezes it. “My girl, you are the leader of this ranch. I knew it since you were young. While your brother may be the muscle of the operations, you are the brain. I need you to know how proud of you I am. One day, when I am no longer here, I promise you I will be nearby. In the sounds of the birds, the whistle in the wind, the flow of the creek. I will never be far. I know if anyone can take my place, it is you, Lacey.”
I wipe a tear. “Yes, sir, but I don’t need you going anywhere anytime soon. I still have so much to learn, and I need you.
He grins. “I will live on in you and your brother.”
“Daddy?” I question him.
“Yes, baby?”
“Is something wrong?”
He sighs heavily. “There are things I am not proud of, Lacey. But there are things I am extra proud of. I just hope that one day my prayers will be answered. Life hasn’t been fair to some people I care a lot about, and it’s up to them to make their way back to us.”
“Who is it?”
“No one you need to worry about for now. I just need you to promise me you will take care of things, if need be, someday.”
“You know I will, Daddy.”
“Thank you, baby girl.”
My father died six months later.
And I often wonder what he meant by keeping the family together and what he regretted so bad. Carson and I have worked our asses off keeping this farm going and never had issues with one another.
Now that Beckett is back, parts of me wonders if he was referring to him all those years ago. Did my father regret Beckett leaving, too, like my brother did?
“This is one of my favorite places on the entire ranch,” Beckett says, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I nod. “I always thought I would build a house out there and let Carson have the main farmhouse,” I tell him, pointing to the place down in the valley below, where the perfect spot to sit on a back porch and watch the sunset sits.
I used to tell my daddy I wanted my house there and he would answer with the same response every time. “Make it happen, Lace.”
“You don’t want the big farmhouse your parents built?”
I shake my head, memories of my mama lying in her hospice bed coming to me. “No. Too many bad memories in there.”
“But there were some pretty good ones, too,” he says. “Remember when you would hide under the stairs and scare Carson and me?”
I laugh. “I had the biggest crush on you back then.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Oh, and not now?” He leans down, kissing my cheek.
“No, definitely not now.” I wink.
* * *
Beckett
The sun is setting behind the mountain, giving the sky a beautiful painting of purples and oranges. Lacey is cooking dinner tonight in the farmhouse and I am washing off my hands with the water hose from mucking stalls.
Car lights get my attention coming up the driveway, a light-colored sedan parks at the front of the farmhouse.
The petite figure of Mrs. Mabel opens her driver’s door and steps out.
The dark hair I remembered her having is now almost fully white, and she wears glasses with the string attached to them around her head.
“Beckett King.” She gasps seeing me walking from the barn.
My gut twists. There is no telling what will come out of her mouth seeing me here.
She meets me halfway and, to my surprise, wraps her arms around me in a hug. “So glad you are finally home, son.”
The emotion in my chest makes it hard to breathe. Or it could be from her squeezing the life out of me.
“Mrs. Mabel. It is good to see you.” I finally find my words.
“Jane always talked about how she wanted you back on this farm. I just wish she could see it now.” She waves away her own tears. “Who am I kidding? She has the best seat in the house.”
I smile down at her. “Yes, ma’am.”
“How is Carson taking the surprise of her will?” she asks.
I raise my eyebrow at her.
“Honey, I was her best friend. I knew the day she went to the lawyer’s office to make it official.” She rolls her eyes like I am new here and an idiot. “Are you new here or just an idiot?”
My point exactly. This woman can read minds. I just know it.
I chuckle. “Nothing gets by you, does it? And Carson is . . . Carson.”
She sighs. “That boy and his anger. Holden always said he needed to get it in check.” She walks to her car. “Come here and help me.”
I don’t guess I get much of a choice. She opens the door behind her driver’s seat and hands me a few to-go plates. “Made some desserts for anyone who wants them.”
Of course she did. I don’t know how this woman isn’t a diabetic herself with all the sugary food she eats and bakes.
“It looks like you bought out an entire bakery,” I smirk, and she rolls her eyes at me again before shutting the door and walking ahead of me inside the house.
“Now, Beckett King, you know I make everything homemade. You’ve been away too long.” She huffs at me in true Mrs. Mabel fashion.