Chapter Twenty
Mudding Ain’t For the Weak and Willful
M udding sounds reckless, but it’s not.
It’s an easy ride through the back pasture after a good rain. No race. No rules. Just a bunch of horses kicking up mud like overgrown dogs. We only take the ones who love it. The ones that damn near vibrate when the gates swing open.
We don’t push them. They move if they want. Stop when they’re done. Then it’s baths, brushed coats, clean hooves, and peppermints for good measure. Out here, horses carry our weight, our gear, and sometimes our goddamn grief.
There’s nothing like being back in Dusty’s saddle, the scent of Honey Bea and worn leather burning through my senses, my family and friend’s laughing and playing in the distance.
But watching Georgia Walker out here on the back of an Archer horse, braid flying, cheeks flushed, laughing and riding through the mud like an honest to God cowgirl with my Stetson on her head…
Now that’s a fucking religious experience.
“I’m so confused,” Hazy says, shooting me a look as she circles her Appaloosa, Orion, around me. “Thought you said your social worker was from New York.”
“ I didn’t say shit. Mom did,” I mutter, guiding Dusty toward the group. “And she’s not my social worker anymore.”
Pudding is prancing through the puddles with Colby and Clem’s horses at her side. The three girls are laughing, shrieking when the mud splashes too high, daring each other to race through the deepest ruts.
Georgia leans forward in the saddle, easy and loose, guiding Pudding like she was born to do it. Her braid snaps behind her in the wind, cheeks flushed, mouth open in a wild, unfiltered laugh that hits me straight in the fucking chest.
Colby lets out a whoop and kicks her horse into a canter, slicing through the mud, sending a wave of it toward Clem, who shrieks and tries to block it with her arm.
Georgia spins Pudding to the side just in time to avoid the splash, then looks over her shoulder and tips my hat at them like she’s a proper cowboy.
Dusty shifts under me, picking up on the energy, ears flicking as the other horses play.
He wants to join, and surprisingly, so do I.
Three young women I don’t recognize run through the muddy grass, laughing and covered in filth—shorts too short, shirts too see-through. Nevan and Vander—brothers, and ranch hands—are off their horses in a flash, chasing after them, hats high, laughter higher.
Vander’s horse doesn’t miss a beat of freedom. He drops to his knees and rolls right in a shallow mud puddle, legs flailing in the air, saddle and gear be damned.
“You’re cleaning that mess up, Van!” Hazel shouts, huffing like mud is beneath her. “And make sure you check his shoes!”
Vander tips his hat at her. “Of course, ma’am!”
“Ma’am.” Hazy shudders. “Gross.”
Georgia’s eyes find mine across the short distance, and I’m shocked when she smiles at me and gives me this small, awkward but adorable wave before quickly turning back to the twins.
“She fits in well here,” Hazel says quietly, pulling Orion up to my side. Her head turns, gaze off in the distance, where a few of the older ranchers are watching from a small hill, hats pulled low, mustaches even lower. “She looks happy.”
There’s a pained, longing note to her voice that pulls words from my chest I’m not quite ready for, but force out anyway. “I’m sorry, Hazy.”
Her throat bobs and she glances at me. “For what?”
“Leaving. Staying gone,” I say roughly with an awkward shrug, my eyes going straight back to Georgia.
For some reason, it’s easier to say the hard parts when she’s near, even if she’s not the one I’m telling.
“Yeah, well, you’re back now.” She gives me a look that's all acid and threats. “Right?”
I jerk a nod. “Aurora’s gonna need a community, and I’ll need help.”
What I don’t tell her is that I’ve missed home—missed her, Mom, and the twins. The flowers, animals, and bees. I don’t tell her my feet have missed standing on Archer soil, or that my hands are desperate for a hard day’s worth of labor.
And I don’t tell her that, whether I get Aurora or not, there’s no place I’d rather restart my life than here.
She scoffs. “Nice.”
My fingers tighten on the reins, smooth leather brushing my callouses. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“You don’t wanna know what’s on my mind right now, big brother, because it sure as fuck ain’t sweet.”
“Come on, Hazel,” I say with a grunt, shoving her a bit. “You’ve never held back the truth from me before. Don’t start walking on eggshells now.”
She stares at me for a long moment, her body swaying with the heavy steps of Orion walking through thick mud.
I try to smile, try to reassure her I can take it, but honestly, I’m not sure. Hazel Archer has a sharp tongue and a deadly honest streak. She tells it how she sees it and never pulls punches. And I’ve got a decade worth of anger coming for me.
“Fine,” she snaps. “You talk about family, but your family has needed you for years. I’ve called you, practically begged you to come help ever since Dad passed.
You lost him, but so did we.” Her chin drops to her chest, shoulders lifting on a deep breath.
“I think what you’re doing for that little girl is amazing, but I hate that Marlee dying is what’s finally dragging you back here. ”
“It’s not about Marlee—” I start, but she cuts me off.
“No, maybe not her , but in a way she’s responsible, and I hate that. She pushed you to join the fucking Army in the first place. Wanted you to make money to build her dream life, and then when you were almost done, after you’d mailed her all your checks, she dropped your ass and moved on.”
Heart racing, gut protesting, I choke on her words and try to breathe through the burn, but she doesn’t stop—pushing on, determined to knock me off my own horse with the truth.
“She was a user, Kade. She used you and our family all throughout high school so she could get a sense of normalcy, and I felt bad for the girl, I really fucking did, but God, Kade, she hated the farm. Hated the country and all things Heart Springs, and you have country in your veins. That was never going to be fair to you.”
She swallows hard, and so do I.
“She broke up with you in the worst way possible, while you were in a dangerous place, and without your family. And because of that, we lost you for a long damn time.” Hazel sucks in a sharp breath.
“I’m sorry Marlee died. But I’m not sorry that you’re back.
I just don’t understand how, even from the grave, she’s still found a way to leave you worse off than when she found you. ”
My mouth is dry, heart lodged in my fucking lungs, and while her words are built on truth and painful reality, there’s something she said that rubs against my soul.
“You ain’t wrong about Marlee,” I admit, running my fingers through my hair. “It took a few years in the desert to work it out, but eventually, I saw it for what it was.”
I think Marlee May loved me the best she could, and for a while, we were best friends dreaming up a future. But she always wanted out, she never kept that a secret.
Guess I always just hoped I could change her mind.
Maybe if the house was nice, the land was pretty, and the dreams were big, she’d find a way to share them with me— for me .
“Her decision to leave her child to me is mind-boggling, I know that. I still haven’t wrapped my brain around it.” I think back to the first day I met Aurora, the feeling of her in my arms while she babbled up at me—it was unlike anything else. “But having Aurora in my life, as my…”
I exhale and look her in the eyes.
“Hazy, having that sweet girl as my daughter, blood or not—it’s not a fuckin’ mistake and there’s no way in hell it’s leaving me worse off. That baby’s not even mine yet, and she’s already saving me.”
Hazel hums, but doesn’t say anything, just falls into step next to me. She’s not one for extra words, or some grand declaration. I can count the times she’s apologized to anyone on both hands, and the times she’s cried on one.
Maybe that’s why we’ve always gotten along so well. We both love the quiet—and hate talking shit out even more.
Allergic to emotions, she used to call it.
I guess things haven't changed all that much.
“What’s been going on here?” I ask, eyes sliding across the ranch. “You said Honey Bea is failing.”
It doesn’t look all that different, and in the month or so since I’ve been home, it doesn’t seem to be falling apart. I have noticed that they’re a bit late with planting the late spring flowers, but that’s not abnormal.
Walked the property a few times took my truck out even more. Equipment’s in good shape, buildings are a bit worse for wear, but they’re old.
Haven’t talked to my mom about it yet, but we’ve all had shit going on, and for some reason, it hasn’t felt like my place to pry. Like I lost that right when I walked away.
Hazel sighs, jaw ticking as she stares off into the distance. “Cooper Ridge happened.”
My brows furrow. “Who?”
She scoffs, the sound so acidic, it hits me in the gut. “God, you really are disconnected from home.”
“That’s why I’m asking!” I snap, fingers tightening on the reins. “I’m trying, Hazel. I know I fucked up. Know I left you all in the lurch, but I’m here now. You gotta let me in if you want my help.”
My sister’s silent for a long time, and when she finally speaks, it’s like the words are being dragged right from her soul. They’re thick and heavy with a weight she never should have had to carry on her own.
“Cooper Ridge is a massive ranching operation,” she says bitterly. “Moved into Summit County a year ago—big money, corporate backing, shiny equipment, paid help, and zero connection to this land.”
She shakes her head, jaw clenched tight.
“They’ve been slowly edging in on everything we do—wheat, honey, flowers, grazing land, even the fucking farmers market. Offering bulk for cheaper, paying off distributors, undercutting everyone around them until we’re the ones left scrambling to stay afloat.”
My gut tightens. “They’re trying to run us out.”