Epilogue
WEST
This Place of Mine
It’s been a ride, walking away from the piece of land that I left my heart in over a decade ago.
Coyote Falls dirt drifts through my veins, and my blood stains the cracks in this soil that’s been turned over and tramped on by too many pairs of boots to count.
Not all of them have been loyal to us, and not all have stayed.
As I lean against the homestead’s railing as a different part of Cordell’s family for the first time, I know I’ve finally found the place where I belong.
Sally wanders about the yard, raining a nearly eleven-year-old’s version of hell on any of the ranch hands who’ll listen because her woolly ran off—again.
The thing has become a pet because she’s way too big to ride it now.
Of all of us, Sally’s come through the Brad Hamilton ordeal the most unscathed.
Whether or not that remains the same over time, I guess we’ll see.
And whether we’re ready for the fallout too.
But we’re here for her. Every single one of us.
Winnie still bears scars that twinge—both the visible and the invisible sorts.
Every now and then, she’ll disappear from our bed and wander along the hall in the middle of the night to check on Sally.
I spend our hours afterward either holding Winnie and soothing until she forgets, if only for a few hours.
The pigtail-bearing hellion might not be my daughter, but I’ve known her since she was born, and I’m here for them both as long as they’ll have me.
For now, Winnie lies on her back on a mat beside baby Randall, one of her fingers caught in his stubby fist. I don’t know if that was by accident or design, but it doesn’t look like he’s letting go anytime soon.
“I know the feeling, fella,” I murmur.
Cord looks over from where he and Lanie have been snuggling while I’ve been ignoring their PDA.
“Get used to it.” Cordell smiles a whole lot more now.
Hell, so do I. He has the full household complement that he’s always wanted.
The yard is overrun with hard-working ranch hands bolstered by the recent Invitational’s success.
It looks like other events may run throughout the year now that Valiant Peak has a stadium to use at any time, all courtesy of Cord, of course.
“Forward planning, my ass. How long was the stadium in your head for, old man?” Cord is the same age as me. There’s fuck-all in years between us. But there’s a whole lot of pain and hours put into this place. Maybe he’s earned the title after all.
Cord grins like a man who doesn’t have a care in the world.
“Since the Invitational’s inception. And I have more where that comes from.
But first, I need riders, my friend. And I can’t do that with you living in town in a shitty little rental.
” He withdraws a piece of paper that looks suspiciously like a contract and holds it out to me.
Lanie wisely wanders away to extract her child from Winnie’s grip, or however that plays out.
I suspect one of them won’t be so happy about it.
I shake my head and don’t budge an inch.
“Fuck, no. You’re not willing anything else away while I’m alive or you are.
We’ve been through this. The last time was when you were in a hospital bed and I had a nice little chat with McCullins.
” I turn my head and meet Cord’s eyes, unflinching.
The lawyer’s name and that last day in the hospital sits between us, but it’s a memory only one of us holds close.
Cordell was out, unconscious in the operating room for too many days. The pain is mine to bear.
But not alone.
Winnie and Lanie shared those eternal hours in hospital hallways, butts on plastic seats or cold, unsanitary floors. Hours of not knowing. And then McCullins powered in with Cord’s brilliant idea of giving away everything he owned while he was still breathing, even if a machine did it for him.
“The answer is no.”
Cord’s infamous stubbornness never fails, even as his grin widens. “You haven’t heard the pitch yet.”
“I don’t want to.”
“You’ll love it.”
“Fu—”
“It’s for Sally.”
I inhale and look away from him. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”
“Yeah. I really do.”
The documents find their way into my hands a second later anyway. I stare at deeds to the parcel of land that Cord won from Jed, which adds nearly forty percent to Coyote Fall’s total mass.
“You’ve wanted this for ages,” I say after I’ve studied the boundaries long enough to commit them to memory. I should know them; I was there when McCullins submitted the paperwork, adding it to Coyote’s portfolio. “Why are you doing this now?”
Cord grips my shoulder. “Because while you were head-deep in ensuring we were doing everything right process-wise, I put this under Sally’s name from the start using the family trust. McCullins has been minding it for me.”
My mouth dries. “After everything that’s happened, do you think your sister will want this?”
Brad was carted away by the police, who turned up on time for once and did the job they were asked to do. Cordell’s pet lawyer had a bunch of friends who specialized in the sort of law we needed, and now Brad’s not going to bother Winnie or Sally for a long, long time.
That doesn’t prevent her fear of what might happen in the future to her daughter, and the man beside me knows that.
Cord shifts in my periphery, blurring. “Maybe not to start. But if she has someone who can—”
“Winnie doesn’t want a protector.” You arrogant motherfucker, I add harshly in my head.
“—who can help her survey the land, and build a house that she and Sally can understand and commit to the design with themselves, have what they want, then perhaps she will.” Cord continues speaking smoothly like I haven’t just interrupted the most important pitch of the little girl’s life.
The one who’s currently berating Jesse Duke for not staying on a bull when she can’t even catch her own sheep.
And Winnie, lying right behind me on the veranda, doesn’t say a damn thing.
I swallow hard. “I’m not making decisions for anyone.”
Cord draws in a long breath. “Do you remember the day I told you to touch dirt?”
“No.” It’s a lie. I can feel the dirt drifting between my fingers like it’s the heart blood of this land.
“And told you to pick out a plot beside mine so we can be planted together at the end of this life?”
“You’re a remorseless son of a bitch, aren’t you?”
Cord huffs a laugh that’s not really a sound, more a reverberation. “Stay, West. Your heart is here, dug into Coyote as much as mine is. Let me give you a home.”
“I’d rather earn it.”
“You have.” Winnie stands next to me, having detached herself from the baby’s grip.
“I didn’t think Rand Rand would ever let you go.”
Cord closes his eyes. “Don’t do that.”
I shrug. “Kids at school are gonna do it. I’m just giving them a head start.”
“Then we’ll homeschool him.” Cord shoves the words out between his teeth.
“Already insulting him? Nice work, man. Sure you want me around?” I smirk.
“Yeah, you’re awesome,” Cord grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. His fingers linger over his scar out of habit.
I want to knock his hand away, but maybe that habit is what keeps him going, keeps this man alive. I push the surveyed land across to Winnie. “This is your call, and Sally’s. Not mine.”
“Of course it’s yours. You’ve been here longer than me.” Her soft words halt me.
“What?”
Her soft smile is sweet and utterly unnerving. Because Winnifred Rand is never sweet. “This is why he’s telling you and not me, West. This is your choice. Cord also knows that I can’t do this for her without your support.”
I study her face. “Are you telling me that you approve?”
“Of my daughter living with the dire wolf in the woods?” Her head tips to one side. “No. But also…” A memory flickers across her face. One of icicles layered across my bedroll and the sun rising over the mountains in a place no one else gets to see.
Raw. Untouched. Like the parts of us we share together that are for no one else.
“You want to do this?” I touch her face, her skin soft and warm beneath my rough, callused hand.
Her quiet nod unarms me. That’s the answer that I need. It started here, and it ends here. Coyote has been everything to me for so long. A place. And the people. All that I need.
A heart, and a home.