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“You’re a manipulator,” Remi accuses.
I laugh and shrug. “She knows what I’m doing. Anyway, there was the ankle, my arm on the sledding hill, and once I broke my nose when I fell off a horse we were breaking.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, I saw stars for a week. How about you? With as adventurous as you are, you’ve definitely broken something.”
“I broke my collarbone once. Fell off my bike in Moab. Dislocated the shoulder. No other major injuries. Just scrapes and bumps here and there.”
I point to the tree to our left. “That’s sort of a big deal in our family.”
“Are those carvings in it?”
“Yeah, going back to my great-great-great-grandparents, the men have carved their initials with those of the women they love. It’s tradition. And you can see how the tree has grown, and the older initials are higher up.”
“That’s super cool. How long has your family been on this property?”
“Oh, geez.” I blow out a breath and think back. “At least a hundred and fifty years. We own just over fifty thousand acres.”
“Seth, this is more than a family business. This is a legacy.”
“Yeah.” I smile as I nod at her. “It’s pretty cool. Oh, there are some cabins over that way where hunters can stay during hunting season. We host some people, and others just come and stay in the cabins on their own.”
“Another income stream?”
“You have to use what you have, and we have a lot here, honestly.”
She nods and seems to be enjoying the view, which makes me happy. Something catches her eye, and she points off to the right.
“Is that a cemetery?”
“It is.”
“Can we go look?”
I raise a brow. “Sure, if you want.”
“I want.”
We turn the horses that way, and when we reach the wrought iron fence that surrounds the graveyard, we hop off the horses and drop the reins. The horses won’t go far and even start to graze as I open the gate for Remi.
“This is so cool. You have your own cemetery.”
There are several dozen headstones placed throughout the area, starting back by the trees.
“The oldest ones are back there.” I point them out to her, and we start to wander through the graveyard. “The kids think this place is creepy, but I’ve never felt that way out here. It’s peaceful.”
“Some of these headstones go back to the late 1800s.” She stops and crosses her arms over her chest as she reads one of the headstones. “Clifford King. Born 1842. Died 1889. Loved his land, God, and family.”
I nod. “He was the first King on this property. And his initials, along with his wife’s, are on that tree.”
She slowly moves up and down the rows of gravestones, reading each of them.
“This one is newer.”
“That’s my grandpa,” I reply and stare at the gray stone.
Jeffrey King
1950-2020
Beloved
“Heart attack,” I continue. “But he didn’t suffer, and that’s the important thing.”
She slides her hand into mine and gives it a squeeze. “You were close?”
“Yeah.” I glance down at her. “He was the best.”
We walk a little farther and she points to the simple wooden cross next to my grandpa. “What’s this?”
“That’s Thor.” I smile softly. “I got him that first summer I came to the ranch. He was the best dog ever. Goofy and big and loyal. He died a few years ago, and I put him here because he was part of the family.”
“And now you have Captain,” she says with a smile. “I take it you’re a Marvel fan.”
“Isn’t everyone?”
She laughs and tugs me next to her. “Where has Cap been?”
“At the big house with the kids. He’s mine, but I share custody.”
She rests her head on my biceps and takes a long, deep breath.
“This ranch is special, Seth. Thank you for showing it to me today.”
“You’re welcome, but we didn’t even cover half of it.” I kiss her head, and we turn to walk back to the horses. “There are swimming holes and even a natural cellar out here that they used to use to dry out meat a hundred years ago.”
“You know this place like the back of your own hand, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever lived anywhere that meant as much to me as this does to your family.”
I close the gate behind us and then turn her into my arms, tipping her chin up so I can brush my lips over hers.
“You’ll find your place, Remi. It’s out there, waiting for you.”
It’s here.
I want to say it out loud, but she’s not ready for that. She’s not ready to hear that I plan to marry her. To make a life with her.
But that time will come.
“Oh, by the way,” I say as I help her up onto her horse. “It’s Sunday, and that usually means that we have dinner at the big house. Are you up for it?”
“Sure.” She smiles over at me as I settle in my own saddle. “I’ve already met them all once. It’ll be a nice, quiet evening.”
