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“Ms. Bennett,” Mr. Howarth whispered, and Laura huffed a breath.

“You may be seated,” Judge Ritter said dismissively. “The Court finds that the respondent mother has been duly informed of her rights and stipulations and that the stipulated dispositional order is in the best interest of the child.”

The judge made another note, adjusted his glass again, and turned toward our section. His smile was brief, but kind, when he addressed my parents.

“Mr. and Mrs. Harrington,” he began, and they stood quickly. “Do you understand that DHS is asking to place the minor child in your physical and legal custody?"

“Yes, your Honor,” Dad said. Mom had to suck in a breath before she repeated the same words.

“Are you willing and able to provide a safe, stable, and suitable home for the child?”

This time, the response was quick and in unison. “Yes.”

Judge Ritter pinned them with a look. “Are you willing to facilitate and cooperate with the mother’s court-ordered visitation schedule? Do you understand that you are not to provide any unsupervised contact between the minor child and the biological mother without approval from DHS or this court?”

The fervor in my mother’s response outshone my dad’s, and Mom grabbed Dad’s hand, holding on tightly. I wanted to reach forward and give my physical support but that would have to wait.

The judge nodded. “Do you have any questions about your duties and obligations as temporary guardians?”

“No, your Honor,” they both said.

Judge Ritter took a breath, looked around and made sure to make eye contact with Laura for a good thirty seconds. Then he turned his attention back to our section.

“Based on the stipulations of the parties, the statements on record, and the reports submitted by DHS, the Court makes the following findings and orders,” the judge began, his voice sonorous in the mostly empty room.

He went through each item, but I honestly tuned him out. The relief that washed through me made me dizzy and I had to lower my head. I didn’t need to listen to the exact wording. The important part was that my parents were being awarded legal custody and Shiloh was coming home.

Everybody was at the house. It was as though work on the ranch just stopped. Mom was in the kitchen cooking up a storm, fretting over making sure she had all of Shiloh’s favorites. I wasn’t sure Shiloh even knew what his favorite dishes were yet, but anything he’d mentioned liking in the past two months was being cooked right now.

We knew it would be a while before Shiloh got back to us. Weaver had to wait for the order to be finalized and then go and collect him and that would take hours. But that time had passed now, and the house was loud, so I’d stepped onto the porch. Fortunately, Dad had brought out the heaters. Mom liked her early morning coffee outside, even in the dead of winter, and so Dad made sure that was possible. I was sitting in her chair, directly in front of one of the heaters, when Juanpablo started up.

I stood so fast the chair rocked backward and hit the house. The front door swung open and Mom stood there, peering out. Someone must have opened the gate, so she knew they were coming. Both of us stared, transfixed, as the sedan came into view.

As soon as the car stopped, Shiloh rocketed out of the back seat and ran as fast as his little legs could carry him. I was faster than Mom, meeting him at the steps. He threw himself into my arms, and I squeezed him so tightly the air was pushed out of his lungs.

“You kept your promise,” Shiloh whispered in my ear.

“Ooh rah,” I responded, choked up and barely able to get the word out.

Shiloh giggled and then Mom was there to take him out of my arms. I relinquished him because I had to, and after that hug, there was Dad for the same. I stood frozen as Mom ushered Shiloh and Weaver into the house. I knew there was paperwork they had to fill out. I knew I should go inside and revel in Shiloh’s homecoming. But I couldn’t move.

Wren appeared in my sightline, and immediately, I was able to breathe again. He took my hand, and when he tugged gently, I went. I was unable to do anything else. I didn’t ask questions, just moved into a jog when he did, and didn’t even clock where we were going until he led me into Barn 2.

The weanlings and the yearlings were all in their stalls. The ground was too muddy from the recent freezing rain to let uncoordinated foals out into the pasture. That way led to injuries no one wanted. But with the horses and the hay, it was much warmer in the barn. I shivered at the temperature change and turned to Wren.

His eyes were soft and his smile gentle. When he spoke, his voice matched his expression. “Do you remember when we used to sneak in here all the time when we were kids? I mean, I’m sure your dad knew, but he never said anything, and we thought we were getting away with something.”

“Yeah,” I croaked out.

Wren hummed. “I used to get so upset when your dad took the babies away from their moms. Remember? I thought it was so mean. Do you remember what you said to me?”

I shook my head and pressed my lips tightly together so all my emotion didn’t leak out.

“You explained that it was what was best for the babies. That being with their moms after a certain age wasn’t good for them, but you and your dad and everybody else would teach them to be the best horses they could be.”

My eyes were wet and so was the breath I took in. I knew what he was doing. “Yeah.”

“If there’s any place a foal can grow into the best horse in the world, it’s here on Blue Creek Ranch.”