“No, we wouldn’t.” Gil walked to Jake’s truck and gathered some fencing supplies. He placed them in his saddlebag. “While you do that, I’ll check and see where he got through. Probably needs fixing.”
This morning, Gil had retrieved a big part of his past. It felt good to be back in the saddle. Made him wonder what he’d been doing with his life, and even more, it had him questioning where the path might lead now.
Gil climbed onto his saddle and clicked the dun into a trot. He welcomed the motion and the tang of the mare’s sweaty lather. It all added up to one thing: Home.
“Care to ride with me partway?” he asked once he’d caught up to Mattie.
The doc nodded, and they headed across the pasture toward the fence.
“I never realized how much I missed this life until now,” Gil voiced his thoughts. “This morning’s brought back some good memories.” He restrained his mare to keep her from getting ahead of Tulip’s slower pace.
“You were wonderful out there,” she said. “How did it return so quickly?”
“Everything started to click, like I hadn’t spent the last nineteen years playing football. Makes me think my plan to raise performance horses isn’t crazy, after all. Buy some fillies and train them like I did Dusty.”
After awhile, they came to the pasture where the bull originated. Gil examined the fencerow, searching for a break in the barbed wire.
“What about your dad? Do you want to work out your problems with him?”
“That’s kind of nosy, don’t you think?”
“I know how difficult it is when you don’t get along with your parents.”
Mattie rarely spoke of her family, and Gil’s curiosity was aroused. “You mean your mom and dad?”
She dismounted her horse and stared over the fence line. “They don’t understand my devotion to this place. Always trying to get me to move to Kansas City.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
The fresh morning breeze rustled against the yellowish-brown grass, and he followed her gaze toward the horizon. She didn’t appear eager to discuss the matter, but Gil wanted to know more, if for no other reason than to put a lid on his past.
“You mentioned your sisters were married. They probably provided your folks with a few grandkids.” Gil fiddled with his reins, ashamed for prying. In truth, he was probably more interested in discovering what made Mattie so different from her older sister Jenna. Like comparing a prairie rose to a pasture thistle.
“Bridgett has a girl and twin boys. Jenna’s divorced with no kids. Probably scared she’d have twins, as well.”
Mattie’s laughter was pure pleasure to Gil’s ears, but the news about Jenna stirred unwanted memories. Why did he care whether she was happily married? She lived in Texas and was no threat to him. “Do you talk to them often?”
She shook her head and her smile faded. “We aren’t very close. Everything changed when Mom and Dad lost their home.”
Gil considered the doc’s fierce regard for the Flint Hills. Perhaps this explained why she defended the land, as though it was what held her together. “Is that why you keep trying to convince me to stay on at my father’s ranch?”
“Your family roots grow four generations deep. I’d give my right arm to have what you have.”
“This place isn’t mine, and what’s more, it’s falling apart.” Gil studied the sagging fence and spotted where the bull had pushed his way through to the other pasture. One little repair wasn’t going to make any difference in this fence — the bull would simply find another hole to jump through. And if not the bull, a cow or a horse, like Dusty. The ranch needed an entire face-lift. “Most people don’t see things the way you do.”
“Then make them see.”
Gil laughed at Mattie’s hopefulness and recognized a bit of himself in her. “I’m not convinced it would be best for Dad to stay here. Considering his poor health, maybe he should sell and move to town.”
“You mean, best for you. Easier to walk away knowing you don’t have any responsibility to the Lightning M. Sounds cowardly, if you ask me.” She led Tulip a few yards and stopped, the tilt of her chin unyielding. “You’re the only family your dad has left. Why can’t you get along?”
Gil’s spine bristled at being called a coward. He’d just tangled with a bull and had done a fine job of it too. He was no coward. “Our