5. Dawn
Chapter 5
Dawn
A s I pulled into the familiar gravel driveway of Skyline Acres, the rush of relief hit me like a wave. The ranch had always been my sanctuary—the place where everything made sense, where life felt balanced. I’d missed it more than I realized.
I could already see the worn red-lapped house in front of me, the barns in the distance, and the outside ring as I passed under the iron ranch sign.
I shut off the truck, stepped out into the warmth of the spring afternoon, and let the scent of hay and horses fill my nose. The breeze played with my hair, and I couldn’t help but smile. I hadn’t realized how badly I needed this—the peace of the ranch, the sound of my family’s voices, and the quiet rhythm of farm life.
Willow exited the truck and quickly took care of Celine, getting her out of the trailer and guiding her toward the barn to meet the other horses.
Billie was the first to spot me. Her blonde hair whipped around her face as she sprinted toward me, and I barely had time to set down my bags before she pulled me into a hug. “Dawn!” she cried, wrapping her arms around me with all the enthusiasm I’d missed so much. “Finally! How was the competition?”
I grinned, squeezing her tightly. “It was intense,” I said, pulling back to look her over. My little sister had really grown into a beautiful woman these last few months, transforming from an awkward teenager into a confident young lady. “But I’m glad to be home.”
“Yeah, you look it,” she teased, poking me in the ribs. “You’ve got that ‘I-need-a-week-of-sleep’ look going on.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Leave it to you to keep me humble, Billie. I missed that.”
Sitting quietly on the porch with his headphones on, Benjamin heard our voices and stood up. His wide eyes lit up the moment he saw me. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. I could see the joy on his face as he dropped his headphones and rushed over to us.
I didn’t wait a second. I removed my baseball cap from my head and wrapped my arms around him. “Hey, Ben,” I whispered, my heart swelling with love. “I missed you.”
“Missed you too, sis,” he echoed, his voice deep and warm. He held me tight, and for a moment, everything in the world felt right again.
After a long hug, he pulled back, his face glowing with excitement. “I helped on the ranch every day,” he said, his words deliberate, each one carrying his pride. “Fed the chickens every morning. We have a new hen. I named her Renée. She’s my favourite right now. And I rode Rosie!”
“You rode Rosie?” I asked, intrigued. Rosie was the gentlest horse on the ranch, but still, it was a big deal for Benjamin as he wasn’t always at ease on the back of a horse, preferring to stay at their side.
“Uh-huh. Billie helped me.” He smiled at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “And we fixed the fence together. I hammered the nails.”
Billie grinned, nudging him playfully. “And you scared the horses away with your hammering.”
Benjamin laughed, his joy bubbling over. “They were funny. They ran like this—” He flailed his arms and made exaggerated stomping noises, making Billie and me burst into laughter.
Benjamin had Down syndrome, but to us, he was always so much more than a diagnosis. He was the heart of our family, a constant source of warmth and joy who saw the world with a kind of wonder the rest of us often forgot to have.
Growing up, Mom and Dad never treated his condition like a limitation; instead, they saw it as a reason to push harder, to ensure he could be as independent as possible.
They taught him to take pride in his routines—from feeding the chickens every morning to helping with the horses—and to celebrate every accomplishment, no matter how small. Their belief in his potential gave Benjamin the confidence to believe in himself, and watching him move through his days on the ranch with determination and pride, I could see the strength they’d nurtured in him.
He might have seemed different to the world, but to me, he was perfect exactly as he was—a gentle, hardworking soul who made life better just by being in it. My brother wasn’t just helping around the ranch; he was also determined to make the lives of the other residents as busy as his own. He helped them with the daily tasks, typically running verbal marathons at the same time.
“You’ve been busy, huh, Ben?” I said, ruffling his hair like when we were kids. Ben, just like my sister and me, inherited my mother’s traits, with the exception of his rounder face and almond eyes.
“Yup, I work hard!” he echoed with pride. “I help everyone here.”
“You’re the backbone of this ranch,” I said seriously, and his smile grew even wider.
“Yup,” he answered, puffing out his chest and crossing his arms. For Benjamin, it wasn’t just a word but a badge of honor.
After a few minutes of catching up with my siblings, I felt that old familiar urge to check on the ranch. “Alright,” I said, clutching my hips. “I’m going to do my rounds to see how everyone’s doing.”
Billie rolled her eyes. “You just don’t want to unpack,” she teased.
“Not true,” I shot back with a wink. “But I’ll get to that later. I’m excited to get back to work.”
“You could use a break!” she shouted at my back.
“Never!” I responded, already on my way.
I walked down the dirt path toward the stables, my boots kicking up dust as I made my way through the familiar sights and sounds of the ranch. The horses were in their pens, the chickens clucked nearby, and I could hear the low murmur of the residents enjoying the sunny afternoon.
When I rounded the corner, I saw Martha in the stable with Clara, one of our longest-standing residents. Martha, my right-hand woman, had always been the steadying force at Skyline Acres, the one I could always rely on. She’d been working here as a care aide for as long as I could remember, and as of today, she was the last employee we could afford. I felt a small wave of relief just seeing her, but something about the way she stood there, glancing over at me, told me something was off.
“Hey, Martha,” I called, smiling as I approached.
She turned, her wrinkled face lighting up with that warm, welcoming smile I knew so well. “Well, if it isn’t the prodigal daughter herself!” she said, her voice full of warmth. But her eyes… there was something there, something that made my stomach drop.
“Good to see you,” I said, trying to keep my tone light. “How’ve things been around here?”
“Same as always,” she replied, rubbing Clara’s shoulder gently as she gathered the eggs in a small basket. “The animals are well, the residents are good. We’ve been holding down the fort.”
I nodded, trying to shake the odd feeling that was building in my chest. “Good, good.”
Then Martha’s expression shifted. She paused, and I could tell she was hesitating. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something but was weighing how to say it.
Finally, she sighed, her eyes softening. “Dawn… there’s something I need to tell you.”
I swallowed, my pulse quickening. I didn’t like the sound of that. “What’s wrong?”
Martha looked at Clara, then back at me, still hesitating. “I’m going to need to take a break from the ranch this summer,” she said quietly, her voice heavy with the weight of her words. “My mother… She's not doing well. I’m the only one who can care for her right now.”
I blinked, stunned, as her words hit me like a ton of bricks. My mind scrambled for an immediate response, but nothing came. “What? Martha, I’m so sorry for your mother.”
“Thank you, Dawn,” she said softly, her gaze sympathetic. “I wish I could stay, but my mother needs me more right now. I don’t have a choice.”
My chest tightened, panic clawing at the edges of my thoughts. I couldn’t manage without her, it was obvious. The animals, the residents… I couldn’t do it all by myself.
Martha gave me a sad smile, one that made me feel even more helpless. “I’m sorry, Dawn. I really am. You understand the situation I’m in, don’t you?”
I nodded, knowing full well what it meant to take care of someone. Her words still felt heavy in my chest, suffocating me. I needed Martha more than she knew. I couldn’t run Skyline Acres without her.
I didn’t even have the money to replace her. The idea of cutting Martha’s salary to hire someone else was entirely off the table. I would never do that.
With a tender voice, she said, “I hate leaving you like this, but sometimes life throws things at us we can’t control.”
I felt a tightness in my throat and had to blink quickly to keep the tears from welling up. My mind raced—how could I do this without her? How could I keep everything afloat? It felt like the final nail in my coffin.
The thought of closing the ranch, even temporarily, crossed my mind. It would be so much easier. I could just focus on Benjamin—make sure he was okay—and not worry about the residents. But I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t walk away from my parents’ dream, the vision they had for this place.
I had to honour that. I had to keep this going—for them, for the residents, for Benjamin.
But how?
I inhaled deeply, trying to calm my racing thoughts. “We’ll figure it out,” I said finally, forcing the words out. “I’ll find a way. I have to.”
Martha gave me a long, understanding look. “I know you will, Dawn. I have no doubt.”
As she walked away, I stood in the stable, the weight of the decision pressing down on me. I had never felt so uncertain, so unsure of what came next. But one thing I knew for sure: I couldn’t let this place slip away. I had to keep it going—for my parents, for my brother, and for the dream that had brought us all here.
I just had to find a way.
“Her mother is dying,” Clara said abruptly, her honesty legendary.
“Yeah, I know, Clara.”
“We’ll cook an omelet for dinner,” she added, completely shifting the subject. “Martha says we can add cheese to it, but Simon hates it.”
I couldn’t help but smile as I embraced her shoulders, guiding her toward the resident quarters. My parents had built twelve separate apartments in the main home extension to welcome people living with disabilities. As of today, only three residents remained, as the other rooms were in bad condition. It might only be a bedroom, but it had to be equipped with different features to make it accessible to all. God knows bath bars, toilet frames, alarm bells, and such aren’t cheap.
I suppressed a rising anxiety as I looked softly at Clara. We needed to find a solution—and fast.
* * *
After dinner, I found Billie in my parents’ bedroom, sprawled out like a star on the bed with a book in hand. She wasn’t reading, though; she was staring at the ceiling. She didn’t notice me at first, so I leaned against the doorframe, watching her think. I wasn’t sure why I came to their bedroom; I guess I was searching for answers and guidance.
I couldn’t help but ask myself how they managed it all before the accident. We weren’t rich—the debts were there to prove it—but they always seemed so calm, like they had everything under control. I used to think they were invincible, balancing the ranch, the bills, and raising us as though it was effortless. But when the crash happened, it was like our whole world’s foundation crumbled instantly. They were gone, and everything they’d built—the security, the sense of home—was suddenly on my shoulders.
“You’re going to poke a hole in the ceiling if you keep staring at it like that,” I said finally, breaking the silence.
She raised her head just enough to see me, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I’m fine,” she replied, but there was a weight in her voice that didn’t sit right with me.
I walked in and carefully sat at the corner of the bed. “Billie, what’s going on?” I asked, with some reluctance, selfishly not wanting another problem to deal with.
She hesitated, shifting her weight awkwardly. Then, with a sigh, she sat up, her back to the headboard, and patted the spot beside her. “I’ve been thinking,” she began, not meeting my eyes, fidgeting with her lap.
“That doesn’t sound good,” I teased, trying to lighten the mood as I moved to sit beside her.
She gave a small smile but quickly grew serious. “Dawn, I’ve been thinking about quitting school. You know, to stay here full-time and help with the ranch.”
Her words hit me like a slap, and I turned to her sharply. “What? Billie, no. That is not happening.”
She frowned, her hands wringing nervously in her lap. “Why not? You’re already doing so much, and the ranch needs extra support. I know it’s a lot. If I stay, I can take on more work and make it easier for you.”
“Billie, stop,” I said, my voice firmer than I intended. “You’re not quitting school. You’ve worked so hard to get where you are. Do you think Mom and Dad would want that for you?”
Her eyes glistened, but she blinked back the tears. “I don’t want to leave you to handle everything by yourself. This place… it’s our home. It’s where we’re needed.”
I softened, reaching out to take her hand. “I know your heart’s in the right place, but this ranch isn’t your only future. You’ve got dreams, Billie—things you want to do, places you want to see. Don’t let this stop you.”
“But what about you?” she asked, her voice breaking. “You’ve given up so much already.”
I had given up a lot. I had to quit school after the car accident that took our parents. Before that night, I had imagined a future here on the ranch, but on my own terms. I wanted to leave barrel racing behind to focus on veterinary school, to carve out a life that blended my dreams with this place I loved. But when the crash happened, everything shattered. The ranch needed me. I stayed, sacrificing my plans, but I didn’t want Billie to feel trapped by the same weight I carried. She deserved more.
I smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from her face like Mom used to do when we were kids. “I made my choice, and I’m okay with it. But your choice has to be different. You’re going to finish school, Billie. You’re going to chase every dream you’ve got. I’ll make sure everything here is fine—you don’t have to worry.”
She eyed me, a contemplative air to her. “You promise?”
“I promise,” I said, pulling her into a hug. “You don’t get to give up your future for this ranch, Billie. That’s not how this works. Plus, what about Grayson, huh?” I added playfully, nudging my shoulder against hers. She smiled softly, not making eye contact. Grayson was her long-time boyfriend. They’d been together since they were thirteen.
“He can come to help on the ranch this summer. I’m sure he will if I ask him.”
“He’s an eighteen-year-old boy, Billie. He must have other things to attend to,” I answered, winking. Grayson was a good boy, but he was also a young man wanting to experience the world. I didn’t want him to work for us if he felt tied down. I didn’t want anyone to live a life they hadn’t chosen for themselves.
“Simon ate cheese, and he threw up on the couch.” The voice came unexpectedly from the doorframe where Ben stood.
“Is he okay?” I asked, a tiredness lacing my voice.
“Martha says that the bad got out of him. He’s breathing on his chair outside.”
“Thank you, Ben,” I said softly, hearing chuckles from beside me. I couldn’t help but join in the laughter. Ben always had impeccable timing. I urged him to sit on the bed with us.
For a long moment, we just sat there, holding on to each other as the room filled with the golden glow of the setting sun. These were my people, and I needed to protect them, no matter the cost.