Jocelyn shifted closer to me, discharging a breath as she watched the pair. “That was amazing.” She lifted shining eyes toward me. “Thank you.”
I tilted my head in her direction—safest when a gesture would do instead of words.
“You know, today hasn’t been at all what I expected.”
To my own surprise—and horror—I found myself asking, “What did you expect?”
“I probably shouldn’t say.” She put her hands in her pockets with a half-smile.
Just as well. The confidence that had flowed through my muscles while working with Gus was already seeping out of my system, leaving me with a familiar unease in my stomach.
She laughed. “Fine, you pulled it out of me. I expected dirt and bugs and sore muscles and a smell that I couldn’t get away from.”
A fly landed on her arm. I shooed it away, angling a look at her that made her laugh again.
“Some parts were exactly what I expected.” Her mirth settled to a contented smile. “But I hadn’t planned on finding anything here. A part of me, I mean.”
“Which part?”
Her lips screwed to the side. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”
Huh. Weird that her observations had mirrored my own.
I flipped the light switch on in the barn, returning the applicator to its rightful place.
Jocelyn plopped onto a nearby hay bale. “What do the two Bs in Double B Ranch stand for?”
I bit back a groan, hoping my brain and mouth would cooperate and not make me look like a complete idiot since there was no polite way not to answer. “Black Buffalo.”
She didn’t say anything else, and I breathed a sigh of relief, going back to the fridge in the corner.
“Are you always this difficult to get information from?” A teasing note filtered through her voice.
I stared. Blinked. How should I answer that?
“Here, I’ll help. It’s called Black Buffalo because…”
Looked like we had enough vaccinations on hand. I turned from the small vials. “Because my great-great-grandfather, the one who homesteaded this land, was once a Buffalo soldier.”
She leaned forward. “The all-Black calvary who fought in the Indian Wars?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I rotated back to the refrigerator. There should be some frozen colostrum from last year just in case we needed it.
Footsteps crunched over fallen hay. “You can’t leave it at that. I need the story.”
I moved aside a package of Otter Pops. Seriously? “Nate’s more the storyteller in the family.”
Cowboy boots with teal flowers entered my peripheral vision and drew my gaze. Jocelyn had her arms folded in front of her, a shoulder propped on the side of the appliance I’d had my head buried in.
“I didn’t ask Nate. I asked you.”
I shut the Kenmore’s door. “My great-great-grandfather fought for a time with the Buffalo soldiers, but he couldn’t stomach how the Native Americans were being treated because it reminded him too much of the injustices done him and his family when he was a slave. He didn’t want to be a part of that anymore, so he hired on as a guide for the wagon trains coming west. When he reached this land, he fell in love with it and stayed. Not many of the folks that lived around here were used to a man with darker colored skin, so they always referred to this property as the black ranch. Black Buffalo. Double B.” I shrugged. “The place kind of named itself I guess.”
“What a legacy.”
My spine straightened as if physically holding up the weight of the responsibility to continue to see the land thrive and the Thomas roots to remain planted in the soil beneath my feet.
“Did you have a choice, then? I mean, did you grow up knowing you wanted to take on the mantle passed down to you, or did you ever want to do something else?”
