Page 177 of Cowboy Daddies

“I’ve never wanted a knight and have never been drawn to shiny armor. I much prefer denim. And, as for what I’m going to do”—I turned around and when Lincoln’s lips curled and his dimple appeared, I held out my hand—“I’m gonna dance with my cowboy.”

Epilogue

Six months later

Livvy

I’d known I couldn’t bring back the voices that had filled the rooms of my grandparents’ house. But I could still hear the echo of the laughter that had enveloped us as we’d gathered around the kitchen table for meals and games. I couldn’t bring so much back, but Lincoln, Luther, and Kate had known how much I needed to fix what was repairable.

But it wasn’t until I opened an old trunk that I knew I’d made the right choice. Inside were dozens of journals that contained the story of my Grammie’s life. I’d sat on the floor and wept while reading page after page. The others left me alone yet I knew they were no more than a call away. I learned I shared yet another connection as Grammie had fallen in love with Grandpops when she was a little girl on this very land, the same as I had with Lincoln. The woman who took so much pleasure burying her bare toes in the earth and dancing with bees, had come from a family whose wealth could have her living on any huge estate anywhere in the world she wished with servants to fulfill her every whim. Olivia and her parents had been taking a walk along the river when surveying land for yet another factory, when the sound of a holler had them all looking across the water. Her parents had appeared shocked to see a boy swinging on a rope but Olivia had stood breathless and then had clapped and cheered when he’d done a belly flop as if he’d performed the most perfect swan dive ever witnessed. Before his head had even popped up, she’d informed her mother and father that she was going to be that boy’s wife. From that moment forward, she’d never wavered. She was in love with a man whose roots ran deep within the earth and had wrapped around her heart the moment he’d wrapped his fingers around that rope.

I’d read about her own dreams when she married Grandpops. I read about how terrified she’d been to become a mother and how incredibly blessed she felt when my mother was born. Then I’d sobbed as she wrote about losing the man she’d loved. And kept sobbing as I read about the death of her only child and then the loss of the grandchild who held her heart.

I’d found myself pulled onto my Daddy’s lap as he held and gently rocked me as I cried for all the lost years that had been stolen from me. Then he’d carried me home when exhausted, I’d fallen asleep. I woke to discover he’d also brought that old trunk home with us, the journals always waiting for me to read again and again. It wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last that I cried over the journals, but I knew with those tears would come laughter and gratitude.

The family that now surrounded me knew how much the thought of leaving the house empty and alone tore me up inside. They understood it had been the only place I’d ever felt truly at home… until I found a new home within Lincoln’s arms. The four of us had tilled the garden and planted seeds. We’d cleared the flowerbeds of weeds and felt a huge sense of pride when flowers began to bloom and fill the air with their sweet aroma. It was a lot of work but was done with love and a great deal of laughter.

We mended broken boards and scrubbed years of dirt and old paint off the walls. A fresh coat of paint in a cheery yellow with bright white trim was applied and new furnishings now filled the rooms. When we were done, I knew it was the perfect solution and could feel Grammie O and Grandpops clapping in approval. We’d turned it into a getaway of sorts. A home away from home while the four of us shared the farmhouse on the hill. As couples, we could each take some separate time away and come to the little yellow house tucked into the woods. A playhouse where adults could enjoy all sorts of the naughty and delicious games that kept a Daddy and his Little girl connected in incredibly special ways.

Finally, there was but one thing left to do. We rebuilt the hives using both my drawings and those we discovered in the pages of the journal. I’d also found instructions on weaving a skep and enticing the bees. Her notes were far more helpful than any computer search and had given me the trust in myself to retrace that path I’d taken on my first trek until I found the tree the bees had moved to once their hives had begun to fail at Grammie’s death.

It had taken me a few tries, but I’d finally captured the queen and watched her colony follow her into the skep I’d woven. I wrapped a new sheet around the treasure and carried it to the clearing where the new hives had welcomed them home again.

Now it was time to reap the reward of so much hard work.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Lincoln asked for what had to be the millionth time.

“Yes, Daddy, it’s perfectly safe.” When he still didn’t appear to be convinced, I sighed and added, “Do you honestly think Grammie O would have ever put me in danger?”

“Of course not,” he answered as if affronted I’d even ask.

If I rolled my eyes, I figured he didn’t see it as I was in the process of pulling down the net to cover my face. “Then it’s safe. I’ve been a beekeeper since I was a baby!”

“That’s two,” he said as he lowered the net from his own hat.

“Two? How did you get two? I only rolled my eyes once, though how you saw that!”

“Daddy knows and sees all, little girl. As for the count. It’s one for trying to sneak an eyeroll past me and one for telling a big fat fib. You were at least five before you risked life and limb for honey.”

I reached out and gave him a quick hug. “You’re right, but still I promise, I’ll be fine, but I will totally understand that if you’d rather not⁠—”

“Oh hell no. No way am I allowing my Little girl to walk into the jaws of death by herself.”

“No need to be so dramatic, Daddy. The most that will happen is that they may sting you but only because you scared them.”

“Do I get to sting them back, because they are scaring me?”

I laughed before stepping back and offering him my hand. “Trust me?”

“Always,” he said and placed his hand around mine.

“Then let’s dance,” I said and slowly led my Daddy toward the hives.

I knew Kate and Luther were standing a safe distance away, witnessing this first dance as Lincoln and I slowly moved among the bees, opening hives and withdrawing one panel at a time. As we danced, I sang and the bees buzzed while the scent of honey wafted on the breeze. It was everything and so much more than I’d remembered as I made new memories to write about in my own journals that someday perhaps our children would read.

“Are you stung?” Lincoln asked after we’d scraped the last of the liquid gold into a pail.

“No, why?”