Page 103 of Drifter’s Heart

“Sucks, doesn’t it!” Trixie calls cheerfully from a few rows further along, where she walks with her halter slung over her shoulder, traded out for her tablet. “Slade just told me about your job. Congratulations! It’s a great space.” Her nose twitches at the tall cowboy’s name, but other than that, there are no signs of immediate death.

I nudge West’s thigh. “Did you accept straightaway?”

He frowns. “Fucking Cordell. No, I didn’t. But I’m sure he heard yes anyway.”

I laugh as West leans in to kiss me, the drifter who found a place to stay, whom I’ve been orbiting around for years. The one I was never supposed to want, but I did anyway.

West’s heart has always been in the right place. And now it looks like he’s found a place to call home.

EPILOGUE

WEST

This Place of Mine

It’s been a ride, walking away from the piece of land that I left my heart in over a decade ago. Coyote Falls dirt drifts through my veins, and my blood stains the cracks in this soil that’s been turned over and tramped on by too many pairs of boots to count. Not all of them have been loyal to us, and not all have stayed.

As I lean against the homestead’s railing as a different part of Cordell’s family for the first time, I know I’ve finally found the place where I belong. Sally wanders about the yard, raining a nearly eleven-year-old’s version of hell on any of the ranch hands who’ll listen because her woolly ran off—again. The thing has become a pet because she’s way too big to ride it now.

Of all of us, Sally’s come through the Brad Hamilton ordeal the most unscathed. Whether or not that remains the same over time, I guess we’ll see. And whether we’re ready for the fallout too. But we’re here for her. Every single one of us. Winnie still bears scars that twinge—both the visible and the invisible sorts. Every now and then, she’ll disappear from our bed and wander along the hall in the middle of the night to check on Sally. I spend our hours afterward either holding Winnie and soothing until she forgets, if only for a few hours. The pigtail-bearing hellion might not be my daughter, but I’ve known her since she was born, and I’m here for them both as long as they’ll have me.

For now, Winnie lies on her back on a mat beside baby Randall, one of her fingers caught in his stubby fist. I don’t know if that was by accident or design, but it doesn’t look like he’s letting go anytime soon.

“I know the feeling, fella,” I murmur.

Cord looks over from where he and Lanie have been snuggling while I’ve been ignoring their PDA. “Get used to it.” Cordell smiles a whole lot more now. Hell, so do I. He has the full household complement that he’s always wanted. The yard is overrun with hard-working ranch hands bolstered by the recent Invitational’s success. It looks like other events may run throughout the year now that Valiant Peak has a stadium to use at any time, all courtesy of Cord, of course.

“Forward planning, my ass. How long was the stadium in your head for, old man?” Cord is the same age as me. There’s fuck-all in years between us. But there’s a whole lot of pain and hours put into this place. Maybe he’s earned the title after all.

Cord grins like a man who doesn’t have a care in the world. “Since the Invitational’s inception. And I have more where that comes from. But first, I need riders, my friend. And I can’t do that with you living in town in a shitty little rental.” He withdraws a piece of paper that looks suspiciously like a contract and holds it out to me. Lanie wisely wanders away to extract her child from Winnie’s grip, or however that plays out. I suspect one of them won’t be so happy about it.

I shake my head and don’t budge an inch. “Fuck, no. You’re not willing anything else away while I’m alive or you are. We’ve been through this. The last time was when you were in a hospital bed and I had a nice little chat with McCullins.” I turn my head and meet Cord’s eyes, unflinching. The lawyer’s name and that last day in the hospital sits between us, but it’s a memory only one of us holds close. Cordell was out, unconscious in the operating room for too many days. The pain is mine to bear.

But not alone.

Winnie and Lanie shared those eternal hours in hospital hallways, butts on plastic seats or cold, unsanitary floors. Hours of not knowing. And then McCullins powered in with Cord’s brilliant idea of giving away everything he owned while he was still breathing, even if a machine did it for him.

“The answer is no.”

Cord’s infamous stubbornness never fails, even as his grin widens. “You haven’t heard the pitch yet.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You’ll love it.”

“Fu—”

“It’s for Sally.”

I inhale and look away from him. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

“Yeah. I really do.”

The documents find their way into my hands a second later anyway. I stare at deeds to the parcel of land that Cord won from Jed, which adds nearly forty percent to Coyote Fall’s total mass.

“You’ve wanted this for ages,” I say after I’ve studied the boundaries long enough to commit them to memory. I should know them; I was there when McCullins submitted the paperwork, adding it to Coyote’s portfolio. “Why are you doing this now?”

Cord grips my shoulder. “Because while you were head-deep in ensuring we were doing everything right process-wise, I put this under Sally’s name from the start using the family trust. McCullins has been minding it for me.”