Epilogue
LEONORA
The first calf bawls just as the sun crests the ridge.
The sound carries across the pasture, sharp and alive, and I close my eyes for half a second.
Not chaos. Not fire. Not gunshots.
Life.
Real, stubborn life.
Dust kicks up as trucks line the fence row—neighbors, deputies, cowboys from two counties over. Christian stands near the gate, laughing with a dark-haired rancher I vaguely recognize from town. Women unload foil pans and Dutch ovens onto long folding tables set beneath the cottonwoods.
Smoke rises. But this time it smells like mesquite and brisket.
Not loss.
Martin lost his ranch at auction a few months later.
Arlo and I bought it.
A screaming deal.
One that stitched the original Winchester land back together—acre by stubborn acre.
Not because I did it alone.
But because we did it as a team.
Faith and Travis out of Hollister bought the feed store, turning dread-filled supply runs into something I actually look forward to.
Arlo moves through it all like he belongs here. Rope coiled in one hand. Hat tipped low. Conferring with the men near the chute. Not barking orders. Not taking over.
Standing beside.
He catches my eye from across the pen.
There’s a question in it.
Still.
Always asking.
Still choosing.
I nod once.
He nods back, the corners of his mouth tipping up.
The first calf is wrestled gently to the ground, branded clean and quick. When it’s done, Arlo rises, dust clinging to his jeans, forearms streaked with sweat and soot. He grins at me as if this is the most natural place in the world for him to be.
Maybe it is.
Maybe it always was.
He won’t ever rodeo like the hot shots raised country.
But he won’t drift away like a tumbleweed either.
By late afternoon, the tables are crowded. Laughter carries. Someone strums a guitar. Kids chase each other between fence posts.
I haven’t seen this ranch alive like this since I was a girl.
My throat tightens.
Arlo steps up behind me, wrapping an arm around my waist—not claiming, not controlling. Anchoring.
“You okay?” he murmurs into my hair.
I nod, blinking fast. “I forgot what this felt like.”
“What?”
“Not fighting alone.”
He turns me in his arms, pressing a kiss to my temple. Soft. Steady.
“This doesn’t end here,” he says quietly. “It continues.”
“Because you’re staying?” I ask.
His hand slides into mine, fingers threading tight.
“Couldn’t leave if I tried,” he says, tapping the spot over his heart. “You’ve got this. And we’re building this together.”
Together.
The wind rolls across the pasture, carrying dust and sunlight and the sound of calves settling back with their mamas.
The land breathes.
So do I.
And this time…
I’m not alone.
The barn’s gone, but the land is still here.
And so are we.
Not propping up the past.
Not leaning on heritage.
Building something clean.
Something new.
Ours.
If you loved watching Arlo choose Leonora—and stay—there’s one more scene waiting for you.
A quiet night. A healed barn. A promise neither of them saw coming.
Get the exclusive bonus scene (only available to my readers), because some fires deserve to burn a little longer.
Leonora’s ranch isn’t the only place where loyalty runs deep.
In Rough & Ready Country, the men wear badges, boots, and scars—and they carry their women’s names like armor.
Start with Christian’s story and step into a world where protection isn’t just a job.
It’s a vow.