Page 28 of Lost Trust

“That’s a really big barn!” Ryder squeals.

I turn around again.

“Look at that horse!”

“I see it.”

“He’s brown!”

“Yes, buddy. It’s brown, but how do you know it’s a he? It could be a mare.”

“I think that white one’s a girl ’cause it’s pretty.”

Bryce laughs.

Ryder points at everything like he’s seeing something he’s only ever seen on television before.

And I can’t blame him.

“Mommy, I wanna ride a horse.”

I smile. “We’ll see.”

“I wanna ride a big-boy one.”

Bryce glances at me. “I think we can arrange that.”

Ryder lets out another delighted squeal.

I look at him again.

His hat has shifted even further sideways now. His blond hair is flying around his face, and his little boots are bouncing.

He looks like he belongs here.

That thought hits me unexpectedly hard.

He belongs somewhere like this. Not in a Dallas high-rise. Not surrounded by elevators and concrete and glass.

Here.

Where there are horses and wide-open spaces and dirt beneath your boots. Where a little boy can wake up and hear cattle instead of traffic. Play in the dirt and soak up the sun. Where the sky seems endless and the air is fresh as morning rain.

I turn back around before the thought can settle too deeply in my chest.

The house finally comes into view.

And I actually gasp.

It’s enormous.

Beautiful doesn’t seem like a strong enough word.

The rustic white farmhouse sits at the top of a gentle rise, surrounded by enormous oak trees and flower beds, with a wide porch wrapping around the front and side. It looks like something out of a painting.

Holy cow.

Bryce pulls the truck to a stop in front, and before he can even put it completely in park, the front door flies open, and a woman comes running down the steps.