Page 180 of Deacon

“Slate,” I say. “You like Slate Ryder?”

He nods. “Yeah, it’s practical, sturdy. I reckon he could be somebody with a name like that.”

“Alright, Slate is fine by me,” I whisper.

He bends in, pressing a kiss to the back of my hand. I look back through the window, realizing I’ve finally made peace with these mountains. I’ll always miss the Appalachian hills—they raised me, but I’ve found something just as beautiful here.

Montana is my home now. We’ll raise our children in these fields. When Deacon and I are gone, the hard-packed earth will cradle us while we sleep.

I’m at peace.

It doesn’t take long for us to fall into a new routine when we finally get home to Ryder Ranch. Deacon already had the nursery set up. During the pregnancy, I sat in a rocking chair and watched him prepare the room and build a crib with his bare hands.

That’s when I realized, deep down, I made the right choice. For all his faults and questionable choices in the past, Deacon was made to care for a family. He’s the most selfless man I’ve ever met.

The weeks blur together. Bittern lives in employee housing and works on the ranch. He’s thriving as Deacon trains him to work with the horses, and he’s making strides in his personal life as well. One day, he walks into the kitchen while Ginny’s youngest daughter, Janie, is visiting. After that, he’s a goner, hanging around the porch like a stray dog every day.

Finally, Deacon gets so fed up that he goes right up to Janie and tells her that Bittern’s taking her out Saturday night. The next morning, I’m going for my daily walk with Slate, and I see them both sitting on his porch, having coffee with messy hair.

I smile and keep on walking.

Some of us made it, some didn’t. You reap what you sow. I’m so glad it was Bittern who made it out.

Being a mother is difficult, but I love it more than anything. Slate is a pleasant baby. Ginny says he’s easier than any of her children. He doesn’t cause much fuss until his teeth start coming in, and thenI switch him to bottles because he won’t quit biting. Soon, he’s crawling. Pretty quickly, he’s Mr. Independent, walking around the house.

I cry to Deacon about it—my baby is growing up so fast.

“He’s just got a lot of get up and go, sweetheart,” he says. “He’ll need it on the ranch.”

I wipe my eyes, sniffing. We’re standing in the bathroom, getting ready for bed.

“I think I’m ready to have another one,” I say.

His brows shoot to his hairline. “What’s that?”

I turn, leaning on the sink, hands behind my back.

“I want another baby,” I say. “It’s not like you can’t afford all the babies we want.”

He’s in just his sweats and, God, he looks good, all tattoos and muscles. He leans on the counter and looks me in the eyes.

“I want lots of babies,” he says. “But I aim to marry you first. I’ve waited long enough.”

I scowl, but inside, I’m secretly pleased. “Okay.”

He turns me around, bends me over the counter, and spanks my ass. “We can start trying on our wedding night.”

I laugh and he picks me up, carrying me to our bed. We fall onto the flannel, the way we did the first night we spent together. Our mouths meet, and sparks burst like fireworks, warming me to my toes.

When we break apart, I wrap my arms around his neck. “I don’t want a big wedding,” I whisper. “I’d like to get up, put on my nice dress, pick some flowers from the field, and go to the courthouse. Bittern can be the witness. Then, we can have dinner at the ranch. Is that…alright?”

He cocks his head. “Is that really what you want?”

I nod, confident. “I never dreamed of a big wedding, just somebody who loves me for all the days afterward.”

The corner of his mouth curls in a smile. His mouth brushes my forehead.

“Let’s do it,” he says.

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