AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I laughed when several people nodded. “Unless there are any questions, we’ll convene back here at zero eight hundred tomorrow.”
I saw a hand go up in the back of the room.
“Yes, Buck?” said Irish. “You have questions?”
“Just one.”
“Go ahead.”
Buck stood. “I was just wondering who Stella works for. IISG or K19?”
“She works for us,” both Decker and Doc answered.
Epilogue
Buck
One year after
Roscoe B. Wheaton Sr.’s death
A few more days, and the bullshit with the Roaring Fork Trust would come to an end. Thanks to my beautiful, amazing, generous wife and her investment in both the dude ranch and the roughstock business, the ranch had been operating in the black for six months.
As for not being able to be away from the place for more than forty-eight hours, Stella insisted she was happy to have a reason to stay home and continue fixing up the farmhouse, so it hadn’t been an issue.
We ended up getting married over at the Flying R Ranch since they had a barn already set up with a stage, a dance floor, and tables. Holt and Ben Rice arranged for music while Flynn took care of having all the food catered and helped Stella order flowers.
Porter surprised us when he announced he’d gotten his minister’s license and could legally marry
us, which meant best-man duties fell on Cord’s shoulders. He was disappointed when I refused to have a bachelor party, but perked up when I put him in charge of booze for the reception.
Stella asked Ali to be her matron of honor. When she said she didn’t want any other bridesmaids, I was happy to keep it as simple as she wanted.
I think I was more disappointed than she was that we’d had to put our honeymoon on hold. But next week, after the meeting my siblings and I had scheduled with Six-pack, Stella and I would be flying to a private island in the Bahamas where, for one whole month, we’d be the only guests.
“How’re you feelin’, darlin’?” I asked when she came out of the recently renovated bathroom off the farmhouse’s master bedroom.
“My back feels better after my bath.” When she walked over to the end of the bed where I sat, I wrapped my arm around her waist and rested my cheek against her rapidly growing belly. She put both hands on the back of my head. “Careful, I think your son’s got a couple of wild horses in there with him.”
For the last week, the little buckaroo had been kicking up a storm, but at least Stella’s morning sickness had subsided.
“Can we go into Gunnison today?” she asked.
I looked up at her and smiled. “We could always learn to make them here.” Sloppers were about the only thing Stella craved—morning, noon, and night. That and banana bread, which Flynn kept well-supplied.
“They wouldn’t taste the same.”
“Are you insulting my cooking?”
She laughed. “Never, sweet husband. You just wouldn’t use enough grease.”
“Ouch!” I gasped when I felt a kick to my right cheek. “That little guy’s rambunctious today.”
“Just think how much worse it feels on the inside.”
I put my hands on either side of Stella’s belly, leaned forward, and kissed the place where the baby had kicked me. “I’m so in awe of you, darlin’.”
My wife sat on the bed, beside me. “I wish we could get them delivered.”
