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CHAPTER 1
Nora
It’s always at the first sign of fenceposts that my heart starts to feel like I’m home.
I smile, looking at the bluebird houses that my dad still puts along the drive to line the way up to the house. When I was little, it was a fun project we did together. Every spring, we’d clean them out so that a new crop of baby bluebirds would emerge, and every summer, we’d enjoy the bright flashes of electric blue as the birds took to them for their nests.
I press my foot down on the gas, my trusty 4Runner roaring as it eats up the dirt road that leads back to the ranch.
Home. Foster Ranch, named for my family. There’s no place like it in the world.
Rounding the last little hill, the house comes into view. Set against the backdrop of the picturesque Montana mountains, it makes my chest ache every time.
It was a fantastic place to grow up. This place gave me everything. Now, it’s time for me to return the favor.
I throw the SUV in park, and I’m just about to grab my stuff when I hear the screen door squeak. Mentally, I add it to the list of repairs that need to be done—a list that’s growing longer by the day.
“Hey, college girl!”
I smile at my dad, who jogs over to me to grab my bag. “Hi, Dad.”
He swoops in close, tugging me in for a hug. His smell, sweat and hay and horses, fills me with happiness. I refuse to let the worries that have been plaguing me since I left Boulder get in the way of that.
He grabs my bag and lifts it up, hefting it onto his shoulder. “How was the drive?”
“Uneventful,” I say, barely stifling a yawn. The drive between Montana and Colorado isn’t one to shake a stick at, but I usually manage it without stopping. “Did you know they put in a whole new bridge between Buffalo and Sheridan?”
“You don’t say.” My dad raises his eyebrows. Wyoming choosing to build a new bridge is definitely cause for shock. “Must be all those Greenies coming up to get a taste of the real West.”
I shake my head, laughing. The nickname, crafted not exactly in kindness, comes from the green mountains on the Colorado plates. “Dad, Colorado is just as Western as Montana.”
“So you say, Bluebird. So you say.”
I follow my dad into the house. It’s exactly the same as it always is. Our living room is to my right, the kitchen beyond it. Bedrooms up at the top of a staircase that has enough squeaky steps to discourage any teen from sneaking out. I look through the living room, my fingers trailing over the familiar pieces of furniture. The faded floral couch, placed by my grandmother twenty years ago. The little chair by the window, so that I could read in the sunlight in the winter. My dad always teased me a little about being so studious, but at the time, my dreams had been a little bigger than the Foster Ranch.
Now, though? It’s less about my dreams, and more about the reality that the ranch brings.
I nibble my bottom lip. There’s no good time to do this. Maybe I should just rip off the band-aid. I take a deep breath and turn to where the living room leads to the kitchen. “So, Dad, let’s talk about?—”
“Surprise!”
I blink.
In the kitchen, there are balloons. My dad never even comes near balloons. Until right now, I wasn’t sure that he had ever seen one… ever. They’re sparkly and big, and he must have gone into town to get them. CONGRATS GRAD is emblazoned over them, and there’s a buffalo-shaped balloon as well, representing Ralphie, the university mascot.
My heart sinks. I open my mouth. “Dad, how much did all this cost?”
My father stiffens a little. “Well, I figured since I couldn’t be there with you to celebrate last week, we could have a little party here.”
I let out a small sigh. “We decided to do that because the ranch?—”
“Can spare the cost of me running into Stone Hollow to chat with Susan at the florist for some balloons. They’re not just from me, they’re from your friends in town, too,” he says softly.
My dad is a proud man. Richard Foster raised me on his own after my mom passed, and he hasn’t done a half-bad job. He doesn’t ask for help and doesn’t admit failure, so when he called me about a month ago to tell me the ranch wasn’t doing very well?
I took it seriously.
The timing was good. I was graduating, and while I was accepted into an MBA program, I haven’t told him about that yet. I was also coming off of the heels of a bad breakup, so, fueled by ice cream and sadness, I decided to prioritize the ranch. I deferred my MBA program, which I was set to start at the University of Colorado, my now alma mater, in the fall. I found a new roommate for my friends that I lived with, and I changed everything to come back here to be with him after graduation.
