Chapter 10 #2
“I do have high expectations,” she continued, the words tumbling out in a rush.
“For myself, for my son, for anyone who wants to be part of our lives. And maybe I am too self-reliant. Maybe I don’t know how to depend on other people.
It’s just…it’s weird, you know? Depending on someone else.
I’ve been taking care of myself and Huck for so long that letting someone else help feels… ”
“Dangerous,” Rowan finished.
“Terrifying. Because what if I get used to it? What if I let myself believe in this, in us, and then you realize I’m not worth the trouble?”
Rowan set down his coffee and turned to face her fully, his hands framing her face with infinite gentleness.
“Are you kidding me right now? Sierra Blackwood, you listen to me. You’ve raised an incredible son, you’ve kept this ranch running despite every obstacle thrown at you, and you’ve somehow managed to forgive me for leaving when you needed me most.”
His thumbs brushed away tears she didn’t realize had fallen.
“You wanna hear something crazy?” He grinned. “I was even jealous of Morrie,” he admitted, his voice rough. “The way he protects you, looks out for you. I thought maybe you two…”
“Morrie’s got his own wife,” Sierra said, a smile tugging at her lips. “He’s just protective because Grandpa asked him to look out for us before he died.”
“You want to know the truth?” Sierra’s voice grew stronger, more certain. “You’re the one, Row. You always have been. Even when I was eighteen and scared and pregnant, even when I thought you were dead, even when I tried to move on with Mike—it was always you.”
Something shifted in Rowan’s expression, a wall coming down that she hadn’t even realized was there.
“Sierra…” His voice was rough with emotion.
“I love you,” she said softly, but the words broke out, felt like freedom. “I loved you when we were kids, I loved you when you left, and I love you now. Whatever comes next, whatever happens with the ranch or the threats or telling Huck—I love you.”
Rowan’s response was to put his hand behind her neck, pull her to himself, and kiss her, soft and sure and full of ten years of longing. Sierra melted into him, her hands fisting in his shirt as she kissed him back with everything she had.
It wasn’t a possessive kiss, like the one nights before, on the sofa, but one of reassurance and depth, one of knowing and being known and maybe even belonging.
Perfect. And right. And—
“What are you doing?”
He froze, and she did too. Then she turned.
Huck stood there in the sunshine, staring at them. “Why are you kissing my mom!”
Oh. Rowan held up his hands. “I—” Then he looked at Sierra, almost panic in his eyes.
“You shouldn’t kiss her. You’re not—” He marched right up to Rowan. “You’re not my dad!”
Oh.
Sierra glanced at Rowan, whose jaw tightened.
“Huck,” he started.
“I know he’s dead. But…but you can’t just…just show up and…I want you to leave. Right now!”
He stared at Rowan, breathing hard.
Rowan had found his feet. “Huck, calm down.”
“You stay away from her!”
Rowan held up his hands, like he might for a skittish horse. “Son, we need to talk to you—”
Huck started to back away.
“Huck, honey, come sit down,” Sierra said. She glanced at Rowan, but what choice did they have? “We need to talk to you about something important.”
“About what?” Huck’s voice pitched high, the way it got when he was scared or upset.
Sierra looked at Rowan, who nodded almost imperceptibly. There was no going back now.
“About your father,” Sierra said quietly.
Huck went very still. “My father’s dead!”
“No, honey. He’s not.” Sierra’s voice broke slightly. “Your father is very much alive.”
He just looked at her. Frowned, his breaths coming fast.
Then he looked at Rowan and stilled.
And right then, the entire world seemed to pause, as if finding its feet, the very air still and unbroken.
Huck’s gaze darted between Sierra and Rowan, and then he took a long breath, and his mouth opened.
“Yes,” she said softly. “Rowan is your father, Huck. I should have told you sooner, should have—”
“No. No—my father is dead. He’s…he’s…” He stared at Rowan.
Then Huck simply rounded and ran.
“Huck!” Sierra started after him, but Rowan grabbed her arm.
“Huck!” Rowan boomed.
But Huck wasn’t listening anymore. He sprinted toward Jasper. The paint horse stood ground-tied where Huck had left him, reins dragging in the dirt.
“Huck, no!” Sierra shouted, but her son was already there.
In one fluid motion, born of years in the saddle, Huck grabbed the saddle horn and swung himself up onto Jasper’s back.
The horse sidestepped once, sensing the tension radiating from his young rider, but Huck was already gathering the reins with hands that shook with hurt and fury.
“Huck, wait!” Rowan called out, moving toward them, but it was too late.
Huck dug his heels into Jasper’s sides, and the paint horse exploded into motion.
They shot across the pasture like a bullet, Huck leaning low over the horse’s neck as they headed straight for the fence line at a dead gallop.
Sierra’s heart stopped—there was no gate in that direction, just barbed wire and—
But Huck knew this ranch better than anyone.
At the last possible second, he wheeled Jasper toward the creek crossing, the place where the fence dipped low enough to clear.
Jasper took the jump without hesitation, sailing over the wire with room to spare before disappearing into the thick stand of cottonwoods beyond.
“Sheesh.” Rowan was already vaulting the corral fence, moving toward one of the other horses with grim determination. “Stay here. I got this.”
Rowan didn’t waste time with a saddle. He slipped a bridle over Thunder’s head and swung up bareback, the old cowboy in him turning his movements sure.
“Rowan, be careful,” Sierra called as he turned the quarter horse out of the corral.
“I’ll find him,” Rowan said. Looked at her. “I’ll bring him home.”
Then he took off, his mount stretching into a gallop across the pasture.
Sierra watched him, the drumbeat of hooves fading until all she could hear was the wind in the grass and her own ragged breathing.
What if his horse threw him and Rowan lost his son before he even got to be his father?
The thought hammered through Rowan as he watched Huck disappear across the fields.
Sierra’s confession still echoed in his ears—You’re the one, Row.
You always have been—but that overwhelming declaration would have to wait.
Right now, his ten-year-old was riding pell-mell across dangerous terrain, rutted with prairie dog holes and cattle hoofprints, clearly emotionally out of control.
Like father, like son, maybe.
Aw, he’d handled that badly. Shoot.
Huck was a quarter mile ahead now, coming up fast to the creek that cut through the south pasture.
Please don’t fall—please don’t fall!
But Jasper picked his way down the rocky slope into the ravine, as if the old horse could read Rowan’s mind.
They reached the bottom.
Huck’s scream cut through the evening air like a blade.
Rowan’s blood turned to ice as he watched Jasper rear up, front hooves pawing the air while Huck fought to stay in the saddle. Even from this distance, Rowan could see the way Huck’s hands grabbed for the saddle horn.
He missed and tumbled off and landed in the creek bed.
And in that second, Rowan was again eight years old, watching his father throw himself between those deadly hooves and the little boy who’d been chasing a barn cat. The sickening thud of impact. The way his dad had crumpled to the ground and never gotten up.
Not again. Not his son.
Rowan drove his horse down the slope, stones scattering under its hooves as they plunged toward the creek bed, and spotted what had spooked Jasper—a coiled rattlesnake sunning itself on a flat rock near the water’s edge.
Now it had coiled tight, as if to strike, its rattle sizzling in the air.
Jasper reared again, just above Huck.
Without thinking, Rowan launched from the horse’s back, caught Huck around the waist, and pulled him clear just as Jasper’s hooves crashed down where the boy’s head had been seconds before.
Rowan hit the ground hard, cushioning Huck’s fall with his own body as they rolled away from the terrified horse. Pain shot through Rowan’s shoulder, but he barely felt it.
He bounced to his feet and pulled Huck up, pushed him behind him. Then he put his hand out toward Jasper.
“Easy, boy, easy.” Rowan kept his voice calm and soothing as he slowly reached for his sidearm. The snake was still coiled, still rattling its warning.
The gunshot echoed off the ravine walls. The rattlesnake’s head disappeared in a spray of blood and rock fragments, its body writhing briefly before going still.
Jasper jerked and bolted, but Rowan grabbed its trailing rein a second before it could escape. The horse’s momentum pulled him along the dry creek, and again the horse reared.
Rowan stepped back, kept his hand up, let the horse land, shake it out. “You’re okay, buddy.”
Jasper snorted and he pawed, but his eyes found Rowan’s.
Rowan waited a moment, then took a step. “You’re okay.”
The old horse snorted again and shook his head.
Rowan holstered his Glock, then put a hand on Jasper’s soft nose.
The animal bowed his head and then stepped up to him, bumping him.
“Yeah. Sorry for the ruckus,” he said, moving his hand over the horse’s neck. He then turned and looked for Huck.
The kid was sitting on the creek bank with his knees drawn up to his chest.
“You hurt?”
“No.” The word came out small and shaky.
“It’s okay to be scared. Rattlesnakes are serious business.” Rowan settled beside Huck on the rocky ground, close enough to touch but not quite. “Jasper was just protecting you both. Smart horse.”
Huck ran a hand across his eyes, his snotty nose.
Yeah, him too. Maybe they just needed a minute.
“Can we talk about it?”
Huck looked away, his head in his folded arms.
“I love your mom.”
Huck sighed.