Page 40 of Steadfast

Even Oakleigh glimmered with an enthusiasm that had been noticeably lacking lately. Her weariness seemed to drift away as she found her feet. “How about we golivewhile we’re scoping it out!”

“Please don’t drive the contractors crazy.” Maeve’s lips curled into a smirk as playful desperation filled her tone. “I just checked the budget, and we can’t afford to pay them for pain and suffering.”

When the two women headed through the foyer, they paused to examine their outfits in the mirror. Oakleigh nabbed the white binder from its place on the shelf. “We’ll definitely be needing this. Seriously, Mia. Just wait until you see the beautiful shades I’ve marked.”

“I’m serious, Oakleigh,” Maeve glanced at the vaulted ceiling, reinforcing her earlier statement. “I don’t want any frustrated texts today from the building crew.”

“Yes,Mom,” Oakleigh said sarcastically. Leaning into the mirror, she swiped her finger under her eyes, attempting to salvage her sloppy makeup job before heading out the front door with an obnoxious slam.

Maeve let Oakleigh’s usual snark roll right off. She mused on just how much Oakleigh reminded her of Harper sometimes, although she would never utter that thought out loud.

How Oakleigh would hate to hear that.

Mia was also clearly Delia’s daughter in many ways. She seemed perfectly comfortable in Oakleigh’s shadow and was quick to bear her friend’s burdens. She eagerly took the lead in organizing the chaos caused by Oakleigh’s sometimes rash judgment.

Harper’s friendship with Delia held a similar dynamic.

Unlike Oakleigh, Harper had been neither gracious nor kind. Yet Delia still clamored for all the crumbs of attention that Harper was meagerly willing to share.

Maeve clasped her mug and rested her eyes once again as she attempted to push the memories of her sister far from her mind.

Maeve’s short break that morning went by much too quickly. Pulling on her hat, she tucked a wild wisp of her long, wavy brown hair behind her ear. Even with her aviator sunglasses, she still felt the need to squint in the bright morning sun as she went to saddle her horse. Abel had always insisted on allowing the ranch hands to pick up the menial chores, but there were some tasks that she still liked to do herself. There was freedom in being independent, and it was one of the attributes that she and Abel had shared.

Feeling tears sting the corners of her eyes, she shook them away.

Enough of that.

The leather of the saddle felt smooth in her hands as she pulled the straps tight. After securing the halter, she pulled a couple of sugar cubes from her pocket and presented them on her open palm. The horse eagerly lapped up his sweet treat while she gave him an affectionate pat.

Maeve was determined to have a good day.

Settling comfortably into the saddle, she directed the horse with a gentle tug on the reins and a tongue click against her cheek. Her horse responded immediately, ambling throughthe gate and across the green pasture. The sun was beaming through the soft white clouds, and a cool breeze whispered through the trees.

It was the perfect day for a ride.

She dug in her heels, signaling to the horse that it was time to gallop.

In what seemed like a flash, she arrived at the South Pasture. The cowboys were gathered in the arena where the young bull was already in the chute.

“Woah, boy.” Maeve pulled hard on the reins. “Woah, now.”

The horse practically skidded to a stop as its hooves dug into the soft, wet earth. Without being asked, Colton hopped over the fence and took the reins as Maeve dismounted from her horse.

“Thank you, Colt.” She patted his shoulder, allowing him to feel the pride of being useful that day. She propped her boot on the lower rung of the fence while she assessed the situation at hand.

Sawyer made his way over, his eyebrows drawn together in concern.

“Everything all right, Mom?” he asked.

“All good,” she answered casually, picking the ranch dirt from her nails.

“Well—it’s just that you came across that pasture like a shot.” Sawyer tipped his hat up as he gave her a look of exasperation. “Gettin’ just as bad as Oakleigh.”

Maeve slid her sunglasses down her nose, giving him a glance over the top of the frames.

“Worry about you, son.”

Sliding her sunglasses back over her eyes, she ducked through the rails into the arena. “Let’s get to work.”

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