Chapter 29
Colt
Castlebrook Town Crier Text Chain
Sue Cruthkins
Could the owner of a Ford Bronco that’s parked on the corner of Main Street please text me.
Delia
What did you do to my car, Sue?
Sue Cruthkins
I would prefer it if there weren’t a paper trail.
Holden Swede
I’ll meet you there, Delia.
Mornings in the ranch house were usually early, but this one has been chaos from the get-go.
Ben had woken up an hour ahead of his alarm, already dressed and clomping around in the kitchen, trying to stuff snacks into a backpack half the size of his body.
I leave Kayla alone in our bed, sprawled out across the bed with the sheets wrapped around her naked body. Even with the crazy morning hair and the drool, she looks like a princess. She’s so gorgeous I almost don’t leave her, but a crash from the kitchen steals that choice from me.
“Sorry,” Ben smiles sheepishly, looking down at the mess he’s made. “I thought I was tall enough to get the cookies down.” He’s talking about the full pack of Oreos I put at the top of the pantry, out of reach of little hands.
“Did you use the racks to boost you?” I ask, squatting down to start picking up the miscellaneous mess of snacks that have fallen to the ground.
“Yeah,” my son blushes.
“Are you okay?” I ask, looking him over. No new scrapes or bruises that I can see, so that’s a good sign.
“I’m fine.”
“Good, then you can clean this up while I get us all packed up. Keep it down, so that Kay can sleep a little longer, okay?”
“Sorry, Dad,” he says again, and I ruffle his hair as I walk past him.
“Just no more climbing shelves like they’re a jungle gym, right?”
By the time I’m back from the garage with the tent and cooler bag, Kayla is awake and standing in the kitchen in a pair of spandex shorts that cling to her curves, and my sweater.
I drop the stuff by the front door, and then greet my girlfriend with the good morning kiss I intended to give her in bed this morning.
”You got everything we need?” She asks, zipping up a baggie filled with carrots and a cut-up cucumber.
“Sure do,” I answer, stealing a chunk of watermelon before she gets that squared away too.
“Sunscreen? Mosquito spray?”
“In the bags,” I promise.
”Wanna take all of this to the cooler?” She asks, gesturing to the sandwiches, fruits, and veggies. “I think Ben packed all the good stuff already,” she winks.
“I think so,” I chuckle, squeezing her hip as I pass. “Where is that little troublemaker?”
”I told him to go grab some coloring books, something to keep him from getting bored.”
“You think he’d get bored camping with us?” I feign offense. “I’ll have you know, I’m the fun Dad.”
“Yeah? I’m sure that’s what he tells you, just like I’m his favorite teacher.”
“I promise you,” I call over my shoulder, loaded down with Ziploc bags. “You’re everyone’s favorite teacher.” Her giggle is all I hear as I walk away to get the horses ready.
It takes us an hour longer than planned to get everything loaded, even with Ben’s extra early morning. The horses are patient, waiting for the three of us to get our shit together.
“You ready, Cowboy?” I ask Ben, boosting him up onto his horse, Batman. I mean, it’s a pure black horse, so at least he’s aptly named.
He pumps a fist. “Obviously, Dad. I’ve been waiting forever.”
“Well, sorry to keep you waiting,” I chuckle, heading over to Kayla to boost her up onto Dixie. Pretty soon, here I’m gonna need to get Kayla a horse of her own. One she chooses for herself. Dixie is nice and reliable, but she’s about ready for retirement.
We head out slowly, taking a different trail than normal so that we can make our way down into the valley.
The morning sun warms our backs as we follow the narrow trail west. The sky is the kind of blue that only happens in Montana—endless and clean.
Wildflowers burst in patches along the grass, purple and yellow and white, nodding in the breeze.
The air smells like pine and earth and the tail end of spring.
By the time we reach the wildflower valley, the grass is swishing our feet as we ride along, and the horses are flicking their ears at butterflies.
Ben narrates the entire trip like a wildlife documentary, pointing out “extremely rare chipmunks” and “possibly carnivorous squirrels” with the authority of a tenured professor.
Kayla plays along, gasping at all the right places, and asking questions that Ben pretends to know the answers to.
If you ask him, squirrels do, in fact, eat butterflies and snakes.
I sit back and listen, just letting it all soak in. Her laughter and his energy. The peace of riding through a place I’ve loved since I was younger than Ben.
We stop for water near the creek, which at this time of year isn’t really a creek at all. Ben leans over the edge and whistles low—something he’d spent a lot of time with Finn mastering.
“Wow,” Kayla breathes, pulling Dixie to a stop. “This is much bigger up close.”
“Yep,” I said, dismounting. “Meltwater from the mountains. That’s why it runs stronger in the spring and summer. All the snow from the peak is melting fast now.”
“And you own this?” Kayla asks, crouching beside Ben, who’s tossing pebbles and watching them disappear into the current.
”Technically, all water is owned by the state, but we have legal rights to it. Be careful, Ben. That water’s cold, and that current will take you and drag you for miles.”
Ben nods solemnly, but I already see his boots inching closer to the edge.
“Hey, cowboy,” I warn again, infusing my voice with a warning tone. “Back up a little, yeah?”
“Okay!” he chirps, hopping back. I fill all three of our water bottles for us, and pass them back to Ben, who passes them to Kayla, like it’s an assembly line.
“Ready to keep going?” I ask my son, wiping my hands on my jeans.
“How much longer?” His nose scrunches, and he looks out across the vast field.
“There’s a perfect spot to pitch a tent just a little further down. Not much longer,” I promise. He’s been doing great so far. So has Kayla. This is a much longer ride than either of them is used to.
“Oh,” he sighs, waiting for me to boost him back up. Kayla holds Batman steady as I do. “Let’s get this over with.”
So much for the excitement from earlier.
Kayla snickers after I roll my eyes at her, and then takes off with my son. Ben and she leave me in the dust, still standing instead of mounted on my horse. “I see how it is,” I grumble, and Saturn paws at the dirt, impatient and left behind. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”
By the time I catch up, Kayla and Ben are parked at the bend where the valley narrows into a shady grove of pine and aspen. The trees offer a cool reprieve from the sun, and the sound of the rushing river offers a perfect balance of white noise.
There’s nothing more unsettling than a completely silent valley.
“You approve, City girl?” I ask, pulling Saturn up beside her and dismounting.
Kayla shades her eyes and looks around. “It’s beautiful.” Her voice is soft, almost reverent. “I didn’t think it could get any better.”
“Worth the ride then?” I smile proudly, knowing I had something to do with that smile on her face.
“And every ride going forward,” she promises, talking about our future with such certainty. All I hear is that there’s going to be more rides. More summers. More.
Smiling smugly to myself, I dismount, taking the rolled-up tent off Saturn’s back. Kayla immediately jumps in and helps me unload. We make quick work of setting up the tent while Ben builds an elaborate squirrel defense perimeter using rocks and sticks.
If any of those carnivorous squirrels come around, I’m sure we’ll all appreciate the barrier.
Once the tent’s up, we sprawl out on the old blanket I packed, passing around sandwiches and sliced fruit under the canopy of sky and sun. Ben talks with his mouth full, Kayla stretches out with her head on my thigh, and the horses graze nearby, calm and content.
For a while, it’s quiet. Just wind and birdsong and the soft rustle of grass. Kayla traces little circles on my leg as Ben hums to himself while coloring—something with a fire-breathing unicorn, if I’m interpreting the crayon work right.
“Thanks for bringing us,” Kayla says, not looking up. “This is kind of perfect.”
“Kind of?” I tease, brushing her hair off her forehead. “I’ll have to try harder next time.”
She turns her face into my hand, kisses my palm. “You always do.”
I think about that for a second. How even in the mess of things—morning chaos, noisy ranch hands, and escapee bulls—Kayla handles it all with grace. She could have written me off after our first meeting—hell, I would’ve—but she didn’t. She gave me a second chance. And a third chance. And a fourth.
She takes care of my son. She gives her all for my little family. She’s become a fixture in my life so easily and inconspicuously.
So no. I don’t think I do try hard enough. Not for her.
But I will.
Ben bolts upright a second later, eyes wide. “Can we tell ghost stories tonight?”
Kayla sits up, pretending to look afraid. “Only if your dad promises not to scare me too much.”
I chuckle, leaning back on my elbows. “I make no promises. This land comes with a lot of spooky stories, including a cannibalistic prison escapee.”
Ben pumps a fist again. “Yesss.”
We let the rest of the day roll by slow, and when the time comes for dinner, I make our own little fire pit while Kayla takes Ben down to the river. A synchronized routine for an unconventional family.