Page 100 of Back in the Saddle

Alan clasped his hand into both of Hunter’s and looked at him with such pure fatherly affection that Hunter instantly felt ashamed of his outburst.

‘I’m sorry. I’m just annoyed that these vultures won’t leave us alone, even now,’ he mumbled.

‘I asked Dick to get in touch with them and say they’ll have to speak with you after I … well, after I’m gone.’ Alan swallowed and tried to mask the fear with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘I know that running a ranch was neveryour dream, Hunt. It’s neither Buck’s nor Meg’s. They’re both going their own way, doing what they want to do – and I’m happy for them. You already gave up your dreams to help us when I got sick, I don’t want you to feel like you’re tied down to this place. I want you to have options. To have dreams again. You can finally go to vet school.’

Hunter shook his head, trying to keep tears from spilling. ‘I don’t want to go to vet school anymore.’

‘Still. You can dream a new dream. You’re only twenty-six, you have a whole life ahead of you. If running this ranch is what you truly want to do, then I’m happy, and forget I said anything about the sale offer. But if you don’t, if you want to do something – anything – else then I’m also happy.’

‘The ranch has been in the family for decades. I can’t just sell it.’

‘I’m not telling you to sell it. I’m just telling you that I want you to be happy. I want you to carve your own path. My father was a rancher. I became a rancher because it was all I knew. I didn’t have options back then. But you do. Just … promise me you’ll think about it. Think about what you want. Speak with Dick. He knows all the details; he’ll talk you through everything – in both instances, whether you decide to keep the ranch or sell it.’ Alan paused, taking in more ragged breaths.

His chest was rising and falling in quicker succession, and Hunter could tell that this conversation had taken a lot of the little energy he had left. Fresh tears pricked the corners of his eyes with renewed urgency.

‘And before you say anything, your mother would be taken ca— care of.’ Alan’s breathing became even shallower. ‘She knows about the offer on the table, she’s fully supportive of my decision to empower you to choose. If you … if yousold the land, the company stipulated they’d leave the house itself untouched and fence off a good-sized area around it, so that your mother can live the rest of her life here. Only afterwards the house would go to the company.’

Hunter blinked, no longer able to hold the tears at bay. His father was smiling at him through glassy, thoughtful eyes, trying to mask the enormous effort this conversation took.

‘I … I—’ Hunter coughed, taking the moment to compose himself. He wasn’t often lost for words but right now he didn’t know what to say. ‘Thank you.’

Alan nodded, as if he understood. Exhaustion crept up on his face and he put his head against the pillow, closing his eyes.

Hunter took it as a cue to leave. He squeezed Alan’s hand once more as he stood up. ‘I love you, Dad.’

‘I love you too, son.’ Alan smiled weakly at Hunter. ‘And there’s one more … thing.’ He breathed out, closing his eyes.

‘You’re tired. Whatever it is, it can wait.’

Alan shook his head with more vigour than he had showed since Hunter entered the room. ‘I know you loved Tamara. But she’s gone and you can’t grieve forever. It ain’t right. Give love another chance. I don’t want to sound like your mother, but … but a dying man can be blunt.’ He grinned weakly. ‘Let someone in. Life’s a long slog on your own. It’s always easier when you have someone who you can lean on.’

Hunter swallowed. ‘What if I do that but it doesn’t work out?’

‘Then that’s just life. Things don’t work out. Relationships fail. People change and grow apart. But … in all my years, I’ve heard fewer people regret taking the risk than those who missed their chance.’ Alan took in a deep breath. ‘Don’t be the one with regrets, son.’

Hunter found his head bowing in a curt nod, which surprised him as genuine. Deep down, he must’ve known this for a while now. His father was right.

‘Can you ask your mother to come in here?’

He nodded, kissed his father’s forehead, and walked to the door. As he put his hand on the handle, the door creaked ajar and his mother squeezed into the room. He didn’t know whether she had been standing by the door listening or how much she had heard, but she gave him the most encouraging, loving smile as she walked past, following Alan’s voice calling her name.

Hunter remained standing by the door as she reached Alan’s bed and sat in the armchair.

She picked up an old-looking book from the bedside cabinet and started reading out loud. Her soft, warm voice brought a glow to Alan’s tired face. He looked peaceful; his eyes closed as his hand stroked Mary’s fingers.

Hunter left the room, not wanting to disturb them.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Hunter

Alan Melvin Jackson died on December 11.

The printed obituary bore coffee stains.

The days after his father died all blended together for Hunter. He was numb from shaking hands and nodding his head respectfully while accepting countless condolences. He had listened to tales of his father’s friendship and generosity, his heart heavier after each one.

Alan had made all the funeral arrangements ahead of time so there wasn’t anything left for them to take care of. Hunter knew that his mother was grateful for that. She was trying to put on a brave face and surprised him with her emotional strength. She seemed to have adopted the approach of feeling grateful for the time she and Alan had spent together. For the love and the life they had built. Hunter knew she’d been through all stages of grief when Alan was still alive. Now,when he was gone, it wasn’t necessarily easier, but she looked prepared for whatever might come next.

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