Page 1 of His Tenth Dance

one

Mission Redbay left his cabin, already too hot in the navy blue suit coat. One, he never wore clothes like this. Certainly not in the summer, and never around the farm. Maybe to church for a wedding.

And today, Mission wasn’t attending a wedding.

“Feels like my own funeral,” he muttered as he went down the steps of the new cabin where he’d moved last night.

The foreman’s cabin.

Mission didn’t have to share as the foreman, and the cabin had been designed and built specifically for a career cowboy and his family. He supposed he had one of those, and blast everything to the stars, an image of the pretty blonde veterinarian he’d once fed a turkey sandwich to entered his mind as his boots touched gravel.

Kristie Higgins.

He’d seen her around the farm, of course. She came at least once a week, but Mission wasn’t the one who had to deal with her.

Until today, he thought as the enormity of the farm spread before him. The foreman’s cabin sat down at the end of cabin row, where all the cowboys lived. The equipment shed sat acrossfrom the last one, and way down by the homestead stood the generational house, where Deacon Hammond, Mission’s boss, lived.

Behind the homestead sat the family barn and buildings, and Hunter Hammond and his family took care of that part of the farm.

Other than that family land, the farm looked to Mission for guidance. They had pastures and paddocks for horses and cattle, a large amount of alfalfa acreage, and a dozen commercial buildings for the children’s equine therapy unit Molly Hammond administered.

The farm did horseback riding lessons too, and while Mission didn’t have to take care of every horse personally, every responsibility of the farm now sat on his shoulders.

No wonder he could barely take the first step across his front lawn and toward the south side of the farm, where the big red barn welcomed students and riders. He had to get over there, though, because the retirement party for Matthew Whettstein, who’d been acting as the foreman for the past twenty-five years, had already begun.

“Such big boots to fill,” he murmured to himself, imagining himself to be talking to his grandfather. A rare smile touched his lips then, for Granddad should be waiting for him at the party.

A friendly face.

Of course, everyone at the Hammond Family Farm had been nothing but congratulatory and supportive of Mission moving into the foreman position. Deacon had announced it a couple of months ago, and Mission had been meeting with Matt and his teams since then.

He’d already learned far more than he’d even realized he didn’t know.

He tugged at the end of his jacket sleeves, half-wanting to go home and throw the jacket in the trashcan. He wouldn’t, ofcourse. Because this jacket had come from his grandfather, and Mission loved it beyond measure.

Still, something felt off. Maybe it was the way he’d trimmed his beard this morning. Or the fresh polish on his best boots.

Or maybe it’s the jacket.

You have to wear the jacket, he argued with himself.You’re becoming the foreman today.

And there it sat. The reason the world felt like it had been knocked another twenty-three degrees off center was because Mission was willingly stepping into the spotlight.

Nervous energy thrummed through his veins, and he fisted his fingers to contain the shaking. “It’s just a party,” he told himself, though Mission couldn’t remember the last party he’d been happy to attend.

Which so wasn’t true, and Mission pushed against the false narrative happening inside his head. He loved the Hammond family parties around the fire pit in the backyard, for every holiday, for birthdays, and sometimes just because it was Taco Tuesday, and Molly didn’t want to cook.

You’re ready for this, he told himself as he made it past the buildings and onto the dirt path that led in front of the generational house. Then he just had to walk past the counselor cabins and between the pastures, and he’d be at the stables. The administration barn stood in front of that, and the party had been set up on the south side, where trees provided shade for bigger outdoor parties such as this one.

Mission breathed in deeply as he took in the pretty blue sky above him, and he tipped his head back and prayed. “Lord.” His mind stilled for a moment, and while Mission had known his past indiscretions had been forgiven, he once again felt that cleansing power of God in his life.

“Thank You for this amazing opportunity. Bless me to have a level head and clear thoughts to make good decisions.”

It wasn’t just him who would pay this time, and Mission’s chest threatened to collapse in on itself, trap the breath there, and prevent Mission from ever breathing again.

A bolt of terror moved through him as his swallow reflex abandoned him. Then, his regular faculties returned, and he could exhale and swallow, and everything normalized.

You’ve got this, boy. You were meant for more than hiding in the shadows.

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