Page 5 of Pure Bred

“So,” she says, breaking the quiet, “how’s the ranch doing? It looks bigger.”

I smile. “Yeah, we’ve expanded quite a bit. Added some new pastures, built a few more barns. With the extra space, we’ve been able to take on a lot more retired racehorses.”

“That’s amazing, Logan.” Her eyes light up, reminding me of the girl who used to spend hours here, helping me brush horses while she dreamed big. “And how’s your dad?”

“He’s good. I keep trying to convince him to take more time off and let me handle things, but he’s stubborn. I think he’s in denial about turning fifty next year.”

She laughs. “Yep, that sounds like him.”

We reach a fallen log, and I instinctively hold out my hand to help her over. She takes it, her touch sending a jolt through me. I quickly let go once she’s across.

“I’ve been following your career,” I say, clearing my throat. “Saw you on TV last month performing at that benefit concert in New York.”

She looks surprised. “You watched that?”

“Of course I did. You were great. You always are.”

A faint blush colors her cheeks. “Thanks. It’s been a wild ride.”

We walk in silence for a bit. An old mare ambles over to the fence. Sierra’s face lights up.

“Oh my god, is that Peppermint?” She reaches out, stroking the horse’s nose. “Hey, beautiful. Remember me?”

Peppermint nickers softly, and I feel my chest thrum. It’s almost too much, seeing the two of them interact again after all this time. It’s pulling me too hard into the past.

“How long are you in town for?” I ask, trying to sound casual.

“About a month,” she replies, still petting Peppermint. “I wanted to take even more time off, but it’s the most I can do. I have a lot I need to get back to.”

A whole month. My heartbeat quickens, but I keep my face neutral.

Sierra turns back to me, a mischievous glint in her eye. “So, no Mrs. Magnuson yet? I’m surprised some local girl hasn’t snatched you up.”

I laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound as forced as it feels. “Nah, just me and the horses.”

We start walking again, talking about how Eagle Falls has changed—and how it hasn’t. The longer we talk, the easier our conversation flows.

“The Harvest Festival is coming up soon, isn’t it?” Sierra asks.

“Yep. It’s this weekend.”

“Do they still have the apple bobbing contest?”

I throw a glance her way. “You mean the one I beat you at the last time we went?”

“What? No way!” she protests, laughing. “I definitely came up with that apple first.”

“Pshhh,” I say. “I distinctly remember triumphantly holding an apple up while you were still splashing around.”

Sierra shoves my arm playfully. “Your memory’s going, dude. I was the apple bobbing champion that year, and you know it.”

For a moment, it’s like we’re right back where we used to be. The warmth of her smile, the playful glint in her eyes…it all feels so familiar, so right.

Then reality crashes back in. The weight of our years apart settles over us, and we both fall silent. Our easy laughter fades, replaced by an awkward tension that hangs in the air between us. I shift uncomfortably, suddenly unsure what to do with my hands or where to look.

Sierra clears her throat. “Anyway, I should probably get going. I promised my mom I’d help with some pumpkin bread thing.”

I nod, trying to ignore the disappointment settling in my gut. “Right, yeah. Of course. You should get back to your family.”

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