Page 55 of Long Time Coming

Tagger

I getout of the car and scan the area of Rollingwood Ranch. Although I’m not seeing any action, I know everyone who works here stays busy.

And who am I kidding? I’m not here to see anyone but one little firecracker I haven’t stopped thinking about since I last saw her. Five weeks is too long to not kiss Pris.

Mr. Greene comes from the barn, and a noticeable limp on his right side seems to have gotten worse. “Hey there,” I say, walking toward him.

“Hey there, Tagger. Back for another shift?”

“Tempting,” I joke, stopping just shy of the utility task vehicle he drives around the property.

He thumbs over his shoulder. “The cattle were moved already, but I’m sure Christine can put you to work.” He looks westward. “She’s down with Julie.”

Her name is said so casually, as if she’s still here, that I’m not sure how to react. “I can wait.”

“She might like to see a familiar face. She’s usually stuck with me.” He moves closer to the UTV and holds the back rack for support. “You know the high cliff due west of the equipment barn?”

“Sure.” The property is big, thousands of acres. As much as Baylor and I explored when we were younger, there are parts I’ve never been to, but I’m familiar with the high cliff over the raging part of the river below. “I remember being stupid enough to stand on the edge a few times.”

His expression falls, but he says, “Griff and Bay used to scare the heavens out of Julie by getting too close to the edge.” Baylor and I need to talk. I think it’s time he gets back home. “She’s just south of the ledge.” He glances at the barn and then back. “You can take a horse or utility truck.”

The UTV will be faster but also louder. If Pris is visiting her mom, I don’t want to ruin it with noise pollution. “I’ll saddle Nightfall.”

We part ways, but he calls to my back, “Staying for dinner?”

“If I’m welcome.”

“You’re always welcome, Tagger.”

He says that now. If he knew what I did to his daughter in the cab of a truck, I have a feeling he’d be singing a different tune. It’s just one of many things I need to discuss with her.

It feels good to be riding again. Realizing what I’ve been missing makes me wonder how I can get back more often.

I take off past the cornfields and gallop past the side of the equipment barn. I used to know the usual spots by heart, but things have changed. Trees have grown. Fences rearranged. But the trails remain from years before when we wore a path through the tall grasses.

The sun hangs low in the sky, and the clouds rolling in make me think a storm is coming. I ride until I spy her small frame sitting in a patch of wildflowers. I slow the horse and dismount, walking the rest of the way with the reins in my hand.

She looks up with her hair as wild as the flowers and cascading freely over her shoulders. Beautiful, even more so as if that was possible.

Considering the circumstances, I’m not sure if I can expect a smile or a frown. She gifts me with an eye roll and a gentle laugh that still manages to cover the distance. “Howdy, stranger.” The usual strength in her tone is missing, which is concerning.

“Howdy, good-looking.” Her cheeks still pink for me, and her smile blooms like the wildflowers surrounding her. Her white dress makes her look like an angel next to the red and yellow flowers, and the purples that bring out the blue in her eyes.

Her brown boots are scuffed to high heaven, but somehow, they work with it. Everything works on her.

Looking at the headstone next to her, I read the name of her mother and years of her life. Each of her children’s names are lined up at the bottom just under her father’s. No flowers are needed because they surround her.

Her gaze has fallen to a flower in her hands, a petal being slowly plucked from around the stem. I kneel with Nightfall at my back and only a few feet in front of me keeping me from her. “I’m sorry, Pris.” She looks up at me, her smile almost vanished. The corners of her eyes are filled with unfallen tears, and she still manages to be the most stunning creature I’ve ever seen. “I should have been here for you and your family. I should have come back for the funeral.” I glance at the carved granite that was probably quarried from the property somewhere. “I . . .” Out of excuses, I lower my head as shame comes over me.

“Beckett was young, probably barely one. No one expected you to drop your responsibilities to comfort us.”

No one did. I never heard a peep about it. Not from Baylor. He was aware of my situation, but he still had a right to expect me to be here for him. Nothing from Mr. Greene, not from the pastor, or even my family. Not even Pris. Even now, she’s making excuses for me. “She was like a mother to me.”

“I used to tell my mom I couldn’t wait to leave this place. I wanted to leave my boots in the closet and my hat on the hook, hide my raggedy work clothes and pretend I was from somewhere else.” A tear falls, and she drops her head in her hands. “I was so mean at seventeen.”

“You were never mean.” I stand, noticing she doesn’t have a horse out here. I settle the reins on him and let Nightfall go where he pleases. He’ll return to the barn sooner or later. “You were a teen, though, and she’d gone through the same stage with two others at that point. We say shit we don’t mean. Trust me, I was a complete asshole to my parents.” That makes her smile. Figures. “Your mom was wise enough to love you through it.”

“The last time I saw her was at my college graduation. She told me how proud she was.” She takes a shaky breath. “And then she told me to follow my heart wherever it leads.” I pat the horse before going to the grass and sitting next to her.

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