Accidental Knight: A Marriage Mistake Romance(6)

Either way, it’s hardly the time.

Mom’s words were like water off a duck’s back, but Dad’s crassness strikes a chord. If I’d had any second thoughts about the will, about fulfilling my part by living at the ranch for the next six months, they’re gone.

“No way,” I say. “Edison deserves to live out the rest of his days at the ranch, and then he’ll be buried there. I’ll make sure of it.”

Thirty minutes later, after one more bout of them badgering me in the parking lot while I throw my suitcase in the back seat, I drive away from the hotel.

It’s hard, going against instinct, because I’ve always listened to my parents. Taken their advice, even in my misadventures, but this time? Forget. It.

This time, I’m following my own muse. Or maybe something more.

“Hear that, Gramps? Heart, not head. Just like you asked.” I smile at the sound of my own voice and steer the Jeep onto the highway, punching down on the accelerator so I get there just a little faster.





The ranch is several miles north of town, past Big Fish Lake, where I’d learned to fish.

That’s something I haven’t done in years. Fishing was Grandpa’s favorite pastime, and we’d done plenty of it during my stays here. He believed no better day existed than one where he spent a few hours catching a heap of walleyes and Northern Pike and then cooking them for supper.

My stomach growls at the memories.

I haven’t felt like eating much the past few days, but thinking of those pan-fried fish sprinkled with dill makes me think I should’ve taken the time to buy a few groceries before heading out of town.

Too late. It’s a half hour trek one way.

I have some granola bars in my purse, which should tide me over until a proper breakfast. I’ll take inventory of the kitchen before heading back into town tomorrow for real food.

Besides, Gramps wasn’t above keeping extras on hand sometimes. Everything from stuff he’d canned himself to essentials like cream of everything soup and emergency corned beef hash. No matter how rich he got, you don’t drive old habits out of a boy who grew up with Depression era scarcity.

I bite my lip, trying not to sneer at how wrong Mom’s take on the house is, too.

Falling down? Hardly.

The house is old, but Gramps kept it up. That house inspired my love of design. He let me redecorate several rooms, and over the past couple of years, we discussed how he was having some work done on the kitchen.

Mr. Sheridan’s question about me having a key wasn’t necessary. Unless things have changed considerably, Gramps never locked the place. His closest neighbors are ten miles away, and Edison makes a better watchdog than any canine.

My excitement at seeing the horse, at seeing the ranch, at coming home, grows with each mile passing under the tires.

Spring brings longer days here. The late afternoon sun shining through the window, delicate and welcoming. Not hot yet, that won’t happen until summer.

Just warm. A perfect, balmy, peaceful warm.

I’ve missed that. Missed so many things.

Even the wide-open countryside along both sides of the highway. A person can see for miles out here across the flat North Dakota plain that’s only broken up by spotty hills. Another thing I’ve missed. Not being so crowded.

My heart flutters as I top the hill and see the familiar mailbox at the bottom. As I drive closer, I smile at the milk can beneath the battered box. Some things never change, and that makes me happy. I flip on the blinker and slow down, turning off the highway.

The driveway is over two miles long and I haven’t even traversed half of it when my heart leaps into my throat and a cutting smile blurs my vision. I stop the Jeep, throw it in park, and blink through the haze, hardly believing what I’m seeing.

Edison. Galloping toward the fence line. Black mane flowing. Regal as ever.

I throw open the door, jump out of the Jeep, and run into the ditch, racing him to the split-rail fence. We reach the opposite sides of the wide boards at the same time. I have to catch my breath, not from the run, but from the excitement, the joy.

“Hey, hey, hey! Hey, bud. Remember me?”

Edison nickers, tossing his head up and down. I swear I can almost hear him saying, “Of course I do.”

God.

I’ve never felt such pure, innocent relief and jump up on the bottom board so I can wrap my arms around his thick neck. “It’s so good to see you again. I’ve missed you so much, Edison!”

He leans against me, shifting one foot, gloriously calm. “Remember how it was? Whenever Gramps needed to keep me busy, he’d put me on your back and you’d walk around and around the house.” I laugh at the happier times. “When I wanted off, you’d put your head down, and I’d slide right off. Then you’d go stand by the front porch, so I could climb up on the top rail and hop back on.”

It should be illegal for a grown-ass woman to get this excited about seeing an old horse, but...

But nothing.

He’s here. In my arms. Just like I remember.

It’s proof that sometimes good things happen on rotten, confusing days.

Edison snorts softly again. I squeeze his neck tighter, just enjoying the moment.

It can’t last forever before the tears come, though. I thought I’d finally shed all I could, but I was wrong.

These are hot and happy and sad. They’re lonely, afraid, and familiar. They’re a rush of what being back here at the Reed Ranch really means, and why I have to see Gramps’ last wishes through. It’s freaking non-negotiable.