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It has to be.
“How is this so fucking boring?” Wyatt grumbles as he runs coarse-grain sandpaper over a sign post. It’s our last tick off the to-do checklist before we open for the season—sand and varnish the log posts, coat the metal Runaway Ranch entrance gate sign.
Charlie chuckles. “We’re opening in T-minus twenty days, you better get ready to work.”
“That’s because you’re doing it wrong,” I mutter, resisting the urge to rip it from his hands and do it myself.
“Careful,” Ford warns. He’s high in the air on the front-end loader of the tractor. “D’s about to run this shit like the fucking Marines.”
Ignoring him, I turn my attention to the ranch, unbuttoning the cuff of my sleeve and beginning to roll it up.
It’s been a long three days since the scare at the ranch. That night, after proposing to Dakota, I checked in with Richter. Aiden’s plane never left DC. Flight records confirmed it.
I still don’t know if I believe it was a couple of hunters with a magnum flashlight and a .308. Either way, it was too close of a goddamn call.
After checking the tracker on my phone that shows Dakota in the lodge, I turn to my brothers and ready a breath. “Dakota and I made it official.”
A stunned silence falls.
“I proposed,” I clarify.
“Whoa. When did this happen?” Charlie demands.
“And we didn’t know about it?” Wyatt grouses, irritated at being left out.
“After the gunfight at the O.K. Corral, got down on one knee and said some sappy shit?” Ford drawls, unhooking the metal Runaway Ranch sign.
I shake my head. “I asked her to marry me. Wasn’t the place to do it, but…”
Dakota deserved a proposal with flowers and moonlight, but I couldn’t wait anymore.
Wyatt groans, swings a finger between me and Charlie. “Man, y’all both are whupped. Both of you makin’ grand confessions of love when shit hits the fan.”
Charlie and I share a grin.
“Only way to do it,” I tell Wyatt, slapping him on the shoulder. “We ain’t cowboys if we’re not on our knees in front of a good woman.”
I’m lowering Ford and the sign to the ground when I spot the sander shooting out of Wyatt’s hands. It lands in the pasture, sputtering. He and Charlie snicker.
“Jesus.” I jump out of the tractor and toss my black Stetson on the ground. “Can’t we have one day on this ranch that doesn’t end in bodily injury?”
“You’re the one getting married,” Wyatt says. “You’re signing up for bodily injury on a daily basis.”
Ford hops out of the front-end loader. “So, when’s this big shindig happening?”
I help my brother lower the sign to the ground. “Soon as we can.”
“And Stede didn’t kill you?” Ford asks.
“Stede doesn’t know yet. We’re telling him tonight. At Family.” I take a deep breath, ready to share more news with my brothers. “I want to talk to y’all about another thing. Eden.”
“Anything up there anymore?” Charlie asks, using the extension cord as a lasso to pull the sander back to us.
“Just Ford’s old smokes.” I give my twin a look. “Hard candies.”
“Hey, man,” Ford says, holding up his dusty hands. “Not me. Gave that shit up.”
I rub the back of my neck, squeeze it. “I know we decided we’re not selling the land, but what if Dakota and I moved out there?” I’ve been thinking about it ever since the night we spent up there. Build Dakota a home, give her the biggest kitchen in Montana. “It’s the perfect place for our family.”
