Page 101 of His Eighth Ride

Tag picked up his notebook and tucked it away in its safe spot. No, he hadn’t wanted to show it to her. He’d fought with himself all afternoon about it. Part of him had wanted to burn it, lie to her and tell her he’d lost it, something—anything—to get out of showing it to her.

And then, in the still, small way the Lord spoke to him, Tag had been gently reminded that honesty was the best policy. That he could trust Opal. That God would be with him in all things, even something as simple as letting Opal see the writings in the notebook.

So he’d brought it. He’d shown it to her.

“I have a couple of things,” he said.

Opal nodded, nothing playful in her gaze now. “I’d love to hear them.”

“I’m worried about living on Mike and Gerty’s land,” he said. “What if I want my own farm someday? Like the way Cord did.”

“Then we start looking for a farm for us,” she said simply.

“What if I feel really guilty about using your money to buy said farm?”

“We’ll work through it together,” Opal said.

Tag ducked his cowboy-hatted head again. “Opal, honey, what if you can’t have babies?”

She sat quietly for a moment, until Tag dared to look up at her. “I trust God,” she said. “And He knows I want babies more than anything. If we can’t have any of our own, I know He’ll provide a way for me to have them somehow.”

Tag nodded, her faith and testimony beautiful. “Okay.”

“Why are you worried about living near Mike and Gerty?”

“I don’t know,” Tag said, looking over to the door as it opened. “It’s just been gnawing at me ever since you bought the acreage and started building that house.”

“You looked at the plans. You chose.”

“I know.” He shook his head and focused on her again. “It’s not anything I can articulate. That’s why it goes in the notebook.”

“You like working for them, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he said. “It’s the best job I’ve ever had.”

“And I’m helping with West,” she said. “And they’ll have more kids. And we will, and the house is a half-mile from theirs. We’ll have our own space.”

“So you’re just assuming I’ll move in with you.” He wasn’t asking, and he found Opal’s double-blink quite cute.

“Yes,” she said simply.

“Good.” Tag slid to the end of the bench and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. “Because I can’t wait to live there with you.” He tossed some money on the table and extended his hand toward her. She took it, and he pulled her right into his chest. “And we can start making those babies,” he whispered right in her ear.

Opal giggled and pushed against his chest. “Take me for a walk, cowboy.”

“You got it, honeybear.” He left the pizza parlor with Opal’s hand in his, and that wasn’t a bad way to be. Not a bad way at all. He wasn’t sure how to articulate everything in his head to another person, especially if it was that other person making him stew and wonder and question things. Especially if it was Opal and maybe he didn’t agree with her.

“I’ll talk to you,” he promised. “Okay? It might be really hard for me in the beginning, because I’m not used to that. I don’t just say everything I’m thinking about.”

“I don’t need you to say everything you’re thinking about,” Opal said. Tag faced into the breeze and let it wash over his face. Beside him, Opal hunkered down into her sweatshirt. “Wow, it’s chilly when the sun goes down still.”

“Not quite summer yet,” he said.

“I wouldn’t mind hearing what you’re thinking about,” she said. “But I don’t expect every thought you have to come out of your mouth. That actually sounds exhausting.”

“To you and me both,” he said dryly.

“But if it’s something with me that’s bothering you—like what we spend money on or me trying to take on a huge foundation that’s way beyond what I really want my life to be, then yes. You absolutely need to tell me.”

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