Page 9 of Burn the Wild

The ranch is like working for the mob. It kicks your ass until you pay your dues.

The gravel-covered road stretches out in front of me. I set a course for the woods.

As I pass the lodge, I lift a hand to Tina, who opens the lodge doors for a new group of guests.

Runaway Ranch is fully booked. And pretty fucking fancy these days.

We hired new staff, better security. Opened a small general store in honor of the now shuttered Corner Store run by none other than Stede McGraw. Even had uniforms designed, which I refuse to wear. Davis and Charlie can wear their logoed shirts all they want, but I already played a team sport.

A full guest book is a fucking nice problem to have when three years ago we were pissing in the wind trying anything and everything to fill a cabin. My fault with that damn video that made the rounds, effectively ruining our reputation and bringing trouble we didn’t need. But hell, if it weren’t for my mistake, Charlie would never have found Ruby, and we wouldn’t be where we are. She brought our brother back.

But it still stings. Just another tick on the Ford Fucks Up scale.

Look forward, don’t dwell on the past, is what my therapist says. I try to do that.

Especially these days. It’s best to focus on my work and let all the what-ifs go.

Because, man, I love this fucking life of mine.

I slow the UTV as I break through the forest and roll onto the gravel drive leading to Davis and Dakota’s place in the Edens—a mammoth white farmhouse with a wraparound porch, black shutters, and a gabled metal roof.

The lodge and Charlie’s place were always the spot for get-togethers, but once my brother and his wife finished theirfarmhouse, it became the go-to spot for family shit. Judging from the trucks parked haphazardly in the driveway, everyone’s already gathered. I blame Duke. That kid is baby bait. Too damn cute for his own good.

After throwing the UTV into park, I pat my shoulder and Mouse hops onto it. Then I head for the house.

I duck through the long foyer and enter the kitchen, where I immediately crush a set of blocks and two toy tractors.

“Shit.” I look down and kick at the clutter.

Davis and Dakota’s house is eternally littered with random objects, like they live inside a claw machine. Between raising a baby, running a ranch, and getting Dakota’s bakery ready to open, it’s the frazzled state they’ve lived in for the last year.

Dakota’s behind the island, cracking eggs one-handed into a bowl. On her hip, Duke. He’s cherub-cheeked, with jet-black hair and chubby fists. “Perfect timing,” she says, bouncing her son. “Uncle Ford’s here.”

I place Mouse on a stool and take him as Dakota passes him off to me. “What’s up, you little monster?”

Even at a year old, the kid’s the tiny terror of Runaway Ranch. He chases horses. Sneaks up on Mouse. Bosses my brother’s Belgian Malinois, Keena. I keep telling Davis he takes after Wyatt, butmy twin refuses to hear it. It scares the shit out of him.

I kiss his cheek and set him on his wobbly feet. He just turned one last week and has mastered the art of walking. “Hey, kid, show me what you got.”

Duke squeals and makes grabby hands for a banana on the island.

“Okay, okay.” I peel it and break the banana in half.

Ruby sweeps through the back door, a basket of flowers in her hands. Her long, rose-gold hair drapes over one slender shoulder. “Hi, Ford,” she breathes, her blue eyes lighting up.

“Hey, Fairy Tale.” After passing the banana down to Duke, I lean over and kiss Ruby’s cheek. Charlie’s wife is made of literal golden sunshine. She can make the saddest person in the world happy.

Giggling, Ruby ruffles Duke’s hair, before moving on to Mouse, giving her a butt scratch for the ages.

For one long second, Duke stares at the banana in his hands, then he does a dramatic deadweight fall. An unholy wail pops out of his mouth.

I stick my hands in my pockets and watch the madness. “Why are you like this, kid?” I say, unfazed.

“What’d you do to him?” Ruby asks, amused.

I pull back slightly and laugh. “I didn’t know I could ruin somebody’s day by serving the banana in half instead of whole.”

Dakota sets a quiche on the island next to a platter of honeybuns and nudges it toward me. With her bakery set to open at the end of the season, we’re all her personal taste testers. “It’s Squish’s world and we’re just living in it.”

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