Epilogue
Joseph
Six months later, I'm standing in the same spot where I first caught Rebecca trying to steal my horse, watching her work with the orphaned colt we rescued.
The little guy is all legs and curiosity, following Rebecca around the paddock like she's his mother. Which, in a way, she is. We found him wandering alone two months ago, probably separated from his herd during the winter storms. Sunshine took to him immediately, adopting him like he was her own.
"Come on, little man," she's saying to the colt now, trying to get him to stand still long enough for his first halter. "Sunshine's been such a good mama to you, hasn't she?"
The foal, who we've named Thunder for his tendency to gallop everywhere at top speed, is having none of it. He dances away from the halter, then immediately comes back to investigate it with his nose.
"Need help?" I call out.
"We've got it handled," Rebecca replies, but she's grinning. "Don't we, Thunder?"
As if he understands, the colt finally stands still long enough for her to slip the halter over his head. He shakes his head experimentally, then seems to forget he's wearing anything at all.
"Good boy," Rebecca praises, scratching his neck. "You're going to be just as wonderful as your mama."
Sunshine, grazing nearby, lifts her head and nickers approvingly. She's been an excellent adoptive mother, protective but not possessive, patient with her rambunctious charge.
Watching them together, my wife, our horse, and the orphaned foal we rescued, I'm struck by how much my life has changed.
A year ago, I was alone on this mountain, convinced that isolation was the only way to survive. That caring about anything or anyone was just setting myself up for loss.
Now I have a wife who challenges me every day, who makes me laugh, who saves horses and fixes broken fence posts with equal determination.
We have a small but thriving ranch operation, with plans to expand the herd and maybe add some sheep come spring.
Word's getting around that Rebecca has medical training—Sarah from Old Pines is coming by next week to have her look at their milk cow, and that new family by the creek asked if she could help with a limping goat.
And in about six months, we're going to have a baby.
Watching her with Thunder, I can already picture her with our child. Patient, gentle, determined to give them every advantage in this hard world we live in.
"Joseph!" Rebecca calls out, pulling me from my thoughts. "Come meet your newest ranch hand properly."
I climb over the fence and approach slowly, letting Thunder get used to my presence. He's curious rather than afraid, sniffing my outstretched hand before allowing me to scratch his neck.
"He's going to be big like his mama," I observe.
"Bigger, I think. Look at those legs."
"Good thing he's got the best trainer in the territory."
We stand there watching Thunder explore his paddock, his every movement full of the joy and energy that comes with being young and healthy and safe. It occurs to me that this is what hope looks like—new life entering a world that's still dangerous but no longer hopeless.
"Do you think she knows?" Rebecca asks suddenly.
"Who knows what?"
"That she, Sunshine, is the reason we found each other. If I hadn't tried to steal her, if you hadn't caught me..."
"We'd have found each other some other way."
"You think so?"
"I know so." I press a kiss to her temple. "Some things are meant to be."
"Even horse theft?"
"Especially horse theft."
She laughs, the sound bright and happy in the morning air. Thunder lifts his head at the sound, then goes back to investigating a particularly interesting clump of grass.
"I should check the cattle," I say reluctantly.
We stay there a while longer, holding each other, watching new life explore the world we've built for it.
In the distance, I can hear the cattle lowing contentedly in their pasture.
Sarah from Old Pines is coming by this afternoon to trade wool for Rebecca's help with a pregnant ewe. Everything is as it should be.
Eventually, we'll have to get back to the daily business of running a ranch. There are fences to mend, animals to care for, plans to make for the future. But right now, in this moment, we're exactly where we need to be.
Rebecca was wrong about one thing, though. She didn't steal my horse.
She stole my heart, my future, my entire life.
And I've never been more grateful to be robbed in my life.