Epilogue
Finn
I’m still hearing the echo of Asher's voice long after he hands the mic back. The band starts a new song, something easy with a fiddle that walks instead of runs, but the room is not the same room it was five minutes ago.
I find the bar and ask for water because I have already had two longnecks, and I want a clear head if anything sideways starts. Zach drifts up beside me. We don’t look at each other. When I tap the bar twice, he taps back. That is enough.
Across the dance floor, I catch Parker McCrae near the back corner, elbows on the rail, eyes scanning the room like she does when she works a pasture.
She now owns the little spread east of us.
Her aunt had enough of winter and moved south.
I make a note to check in on how the custody battle with her son's grandparents is going.
Parker looks up and catches me looking. She doesn’t smile, but one brow lifts in a challenge.
Holding her gaze, I raise my glass a little.
When she tips her hat, I feel something in my chest lean forward.
I remind it to slow down. My family tempers just welded themselves back together, and I’m not about to go stirring the pot with anyone else.
Ben slides in on my other side, all clean lines and country man polish that still cannot hide the ranch kid underneath.
With him is Troy McCord, who used to ride barrels faster than physics should have allowed back when we were on the junior circuit.
I was never sure why he left, but he seems to be back in town now.
Troy shakes my hand and gives Zach a nod.
Ben lets out a low breath and looks toward the stage. "I was not expecting that."
"None of us were," I say. "He meant it."
Zach grunts. "He always does."
Ben leans an elbow on the bar. "Kassi saved your ranch," he says, like he is reading a fact into the record. "Those maps and the timing. We could not have pulled that lever without her."
"We know," I say. The words sit easily now. "We didn’t know at first, but we know now."
Troy keeps his voice low. "I heard chatter about a project outside county lines. Testing crews, temporary power at the mill, and trucks that spend more time idling than driving. Same names keep circling. They are not done, but they are spooked."
"Good," Zach says. "I like spooked."
"Spooked animals jump fences," Ben says.
"Which is why I would like everyone to keep watch. Cade is keeping his ears and eyes open as he travels the countryside visiting all his clients. I’m filing what I can without tipping our hand.
If they push again, we will be there to meet them with more than words. "
I look past him and see Cade cutting through the crowd. He has dust on his boots, and my guess is he came straight here after a late call today. He sees us and angles over, dips his head, and orders a Coke—the move of a man with a long drive home.
"South fence at Delaney looks clean," he says.
"Those white flags are gone. Not trampled but pulled.
Tire prints up by the old cottonwoods. Someone loaded up quietly.
" He glances toward Asher and Kassi, who are turning a lazy circle with her head on his shoulder.
"He needed that," Cade says. "All of you needed that. "
"Town needed it too," Ben says.
Cade sips his Coke and tips it toward me from a few seats down the bar. "You boys good?"
"We will be," I say. "He said what needed saying."
Cade nods once.
From the corner of my eye, I see Parker leave her post and step down to the floor. She cuts along the rail, stops to talk to two older boys from the co-op, then moves again. She is coming in our direction, but not fast. I feel like a fool wanting to square up my shoulders. But I do it anyway.
Candy slides in on my other side, a guardian with pretty earrings. She bumps my hip with hers. "You cried yet, cowboy?"
"Shut up," I say, but I’m smiling.
Her voice dips softly. "Go ask Parker to dance. She has been staring you down for fifteen minutes."
"I’m working," I say, which makes everyone laugh because I’m leaning against a bar watching my brother slow dance.
"Go," Ben says. "We got your back if anything comes up."
Troy adds, "I can step in if needed. I’m tired of standing still."
Cade lifts his drink. "I’ll keep the walls covered."
I look at all of them and feel the old pull in a new way. This is what home is. Not the buildings. It’s the net that tightens when you try to fall.
Setting my glass down, I look through the crowd to find Parker again. She is not hard to find. I walk over, stop a respectful distance away, and tip my hat.
"Dance?" I ask.
She looks at my hand, then my face. "Thought you would be busy catching bouquets," she says, deadpan. It makes me bark a laugh. Then, she puts her palm in mine and lets me lead her to the floor.
We find the beat without effort. She is light on her feet and doesn’t let me do all the work, which I like a lot. Her hand is firm. Her eyes look up at me, and she stays present. After a turn, she says, "Your brother knows how to bring a house down."
"He does now," I say.
She cocks her head. "She worth it?"
"Yes," I say without thought.
She nods like this is the right answer and then looks at the edges of the room. "Word is the trucks at the mill left a mess."
"Word is right," I say. "We will keep it clean on our side."
"I will cover the east," she says. "I got a new camera in today. Motion activated, and it sends videos and notifications straight to my phone. If I see anything that smells wrong, I will let you and Ben know."
"Appreciate it," I say. "You good out there alone?"
She smiles in a way that says she has a shotgun and a temper, and both are legal. "I got a heeler with a mean bark and better friends. I’m fine."
The song shifts, and I swing her through a change that feels like a test. She grins and lets me know she can pass it.
I am a goner if I’m not careful, but I don't mind.
Parker is the kind of woman who would be easy to fall for and hard to get over.
I'm not looking for heartbreak. I’m just trying to keep the ranch standing and my family safe.
We finish and step off the floor. "Thank you for the dance," I say before letting her hand go.
She nods, smiling as she is pulled away by a friend, so I head out to the front porch.
The air is cooler, and the porch is crowded with people talking about hay and irrigation and who is bringing what to the church social.
Asher and Kassi pass by hand in hand, their fingers linked tight, not ready to let go even for a breath.
Ben and Troy join me near the railing. Cade steps out while finishing his drink.
"Clouds sliding in from the west. We might get a little rain if prayer counts. Keep the trucks fueled anyway," Ben says.
I take in the lot, at the new trucks gleaming beside the old ones patched with Bondo scars. Enjoying the sight of the kids weaving through legs, holding mason jars of lemonade.
Ben claps my back. "I will never get tired of being wrong in the right direction," he says. "I figured tonight would be dark. Instead, it feels like someone opened a gate."
"It’s not over," I say, because that’s my job. "They will try again."
"They will," he agrees. "But they have to run through a lot more of us now."
The band inside kicks up a fast one, and the hall whoops in approval. I hear Asher laugh. It is a sound I haven’t heard in too long. It travels across the gravel and lands in my chest, where it belongs.
I think about this morning, when I walked up his porch ready to hold on to a grudge because I didn’t know where to put the fear. I think about right now, when the fear is still here, but there’s room around it. I think about tomorrow, when the work will start again at dawn.
I'm so lost in my head, I don't notice Parker has walked up beside me until she bumps my shoulder with hers. "You going to ask me again, or are you done for the night?"
"I’m never done," I say, and that earns me another rare smile.
The breeze lifts the edge of my hat. I press it down and look at the door like it’s the start of a chute. The band hits a bright chord, and the floor thumps.
"Come on," I say to Parker. "Let's go remind them we’re still here."
She laughs and takes my hand, and I take a step I will not take back.