Page 1 of Redbird

CHAPTER ONE

KEIRA

SIX YEARS AFTER SOVEREIGN

At the intersection of where Sovereign Mountain once met Garrison Farms is a little valley. And walking through it, with his horse, Shadow, at his side, is my husband.

Head down, dark hat covering his face.

On Shadow is our son, holding tight to his mane. I tell my husband that our son, Cash, is too young to ride bareback and he tells me there’s no holding our boy back. Gerard has a knack for horsemanship, and that talent runs through Cash’s veins.

He’s barely six, but he already wants to ride barefoot, no saddle or bridle. Just his fingers gripping their mane. He’s a daredevil. Sometimes I wonder if things had been different for Gerard, he would have been just like Cash.

Wild and free.

I thought about that a lot at first—what might have been. Sometimes with a pang of sadness. But after six years, that sadness has faded for us both.

We’re both healing, slowly, but surely. Learning to trust more every day, learning to lean into each other and forget the injustices of our pasts.

I squint, shading my eyes as I gaze at my husband and son coming over the hill. Gerard wears the same clothes he always has—a worn Henley, usually blue like his eyes, work pants, and steel toed boots.

His short, dark hair is covered by his black cowboy hat, pushed low over his eyes. He wears the same boots and pants he wore when I met him. I can tell because I’ve patched the inside seam a dozen times. Gerard believes in buying land and cattle—and spoiling me on occasion—but never spending on himself.

Well, except for when he paid off half of South Platte so he could run my husband over with a herd of cattle and get away with it. I’m the single most expensive thing he’s ever bought just for himself.

A hot gust of wind carries the smell of spring over the front porch. I curl my toes against the floorboards.

The sight of my husband and son like this fills me with pride. It’s been six years and I’m positive now that I want at least one more baby.

I haven't talked to Gerard yet, but I plan to be pregnant before the end of the year. We took a break after Cash to just enjoy having a son together. But now I feel I’m ready.

Maybe this time it’ll be a girl with red hair like mine. I smile at the thought.

Cash came out a spitting image of his father. Big, blue eyes and curly dark hair. It didn’t take long for him to start acting like him too. As soon as he was old enough to walk and put on a pair of boots, he was swaggering around the yard. Hands on his hips, squinting at horses and slapping cattle as they went by.

I smile, watching as they draw closer and enter the yard. Instead of heading to the barn, Gerard lifts his head and sees me waiting. He clicks his fingers for Shadow and the huge gelding turns and carries my son to the bottom of the steps.

“What are you doing, mom?” Cash asks, leaning in and resting his chin on Shadow’s mane.

“Waiting for you,” I say. “What are you doing?”

He straightens, pointing back at the valley. “We went up to the cliffs. Dad’s showing me where he runs the cattle when he changes the pasture around.”

I look past him to my husband, walking towards me with that habitually stern expression on his face. It’s the face that makes me remember why I never take off the silver collar around my neck. Not once in the seven years we’ve been married.

His pale blue gaze flicks up and catches mine. He gives me that look—the one that always gets my panties to drop around my ankles whenever he wants. My entire body tingles, like it did when we first met.

“Careful up in the cliffs,” I say lightly.

“Why?” Cash demands.

I turn to Gerard, who has his hands on his hips. He shrugs, glancing back.

“Wouldn’t want to get caught between them,” he says. “Not when the cattle are coming through.”

Cash squints, screwing up his face as he stares over the fields. He’s trying to make sense of what his father is saying, but he’ll never admit there might be something in the world he can’t comprehend.

“Okay,” he says finally. He turns to me, ready for the next thing. “I’m hungry. What’s for dinner?”

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