Page 45 of Wannabe in Wyoming
Aaron called me today. I haven’t spoken to him in a long time, but he told me about Willow, our daughter. I have a daughter! I bet she’s as beautiful as you. But he also told me about your engagement. It hurt. After all this time, it still feels worse than I can describe.
Uncle Simon passed away about eighteen months ago, leaving me the sole heir to his cattle ranch. This will be my legacy now—this and Willow. I’m not worthy of either of them, but at least I’ll be able to nurture one.
I’ve made a choice. I can’t pine for you forever, especially since you’ve moved on. I’m going to ask Chasity Jenkins to marry me. She’ll make a good ranch wife. She knows what to expect. I don’t love her, but I care about her enough to marry her. Mostly, I’m lonely. And I’m tired of being lonely.
Goodbye, Cherry.
J
* * *
May 29th
Dearest Cherry,
Chasity left me today—ironically, eleven years to the day I had to leave you. I came in from checking the cattle and found her standing in front of the fireplace, holding the cigar box I keep my letters to you in. She’d already burned the movie ticket stubs and all but one of the pictures I still had of you and I, after she’d read the last letter I’d written you. She screamed at me and threw things. Thankfully, I grabbed the letters before they ended up in ashes too—like my marriage—like everything I touch besides this damn ranch.
I feel bad for hurting her, but it’s probably better this way, for her to know the truth—I have a daughter, and my heart has always belonged to another, and always will. I hate to say it, but I was never a good husband to her. In fact, I haven’t been a good man all these years without you. Between my mean streak and my refusal to father any children with her, and now this—she had her fill of me. I let her go without a fight. You were the only woman for me, and no substitute, no matter how pretty and sweet, will ever fill the void you left in my heart and soul.
I hope you’ve found happiness. Aaron moved to California a long time ago, and my folks have been in Florida for the past eight years. I don’t know anyone in Philly anymore—at least not someone I can call up out of the blue and ask about you. It’s better not to know I think. This way, I can imagine you and our daughter laughing and happy. We missed our chance, Cherry baby, but I still don’t regret the time I had with you. Those memories will have to carry me forward through the rest of my days.
Always yours, forever,
J
* * *
There was onlyone letter remaining in the box. Lifting it free, Willow noticed the envelope was different from the others, newer, and scrawled on the front, in the now familiar script of her father, wasWillow Crawford (Hillcrest).
She dropped it like it had burned her. “No way am I doing this right now! Fuck that. Fuck this. Nope. All the nopes!”
She didn’t have the emotional fortitude to open that envelope.
“Baby, talk to me.” Clearly worried, Nathan leaned closer to the screen, as if he could crawl through and gather her into his arms.
Shaking her head, she closed the box. “There isn’t anything to say. His last letter is addressed to me, and I’m not reading it. Not now, maybe never.” Meeting his eyes, she wished with all her heart he was with her. In that second, she knew she would fight for him, for them. The next time he was here, she wasn’t going to let fear and doubts rule her, she was going to tell him how she felt and ask him to move to the ranch when his time in the army was complete. She wanted to ask him in person though—not when he was hundreds of miles away. “Nathan? When can you come back to Wyoming?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
It’d beentwo weeks since Nathan had returned to Kansas, and Willow was finally falling back into a normal routine. Jeremiah had been her rock, streamlining the renovations of the horse barn and making certain the larger barn was ready for the alpacas. They’d gotten the concrete floor installed last week, just before the weather began dropping below freezing after the sun went down. The first snowfall had come last night, and she’d woken up to find the fields covered in a sparkling blanket of white. It looked like a beautiful postcard, far different from the slush and dirty snow she had been used to in Philadelphia. Today felt like a new beginning—fresh, clean, and inspiring—which fit, because the alpacas and horses would be arriving any minute.
It was just after noon, as she stood on the front porch, with her hands buried deep in her coat pockets, a bright pink beanie on her head. Jeremiah had laughed when he’d seen her shoveling the porches and walkways that morning when he’d stopped by to plow her lane. He was dressed in Carhart work pants, boots, and a shearling lined coat, topped off with his tan, everyday cowboy hat. She’d smirked and said, “Not all of us can look like Wyoming fashion plates. I’m still just a girl from Philly.” Shoveling and salting the walkways around the house and over to the barn had been a lesson she hadn’t known she’d be getting. In Philly, the city workers cleared the snow away. She hadn’t even owned a snow shovel until a week ago when she’d heard the news of the pending storm, and she’d gone to Ducky’s to get one. Thankfully, the snow had stopped coming down just before dawn. Her shoulders and arms ached, and she hated that she’d felt freezing cold even as she was sweating. What she wouldn’t give right now to be sitting on her couch with Nathan, warming themselves in front of a roaring fire. Last week, she’d arranged to have several cords of cut firewood delivered at Jeremiah’s suggestion. She needed extra logs available in case she ever lost electricity and had to stay warm during the colder months until it came back on.
The roar of an engine broke the silence, and she grinned at the sight of a huge black truck hauling a livestock trailer, led by Jeremiah in her own white truck, pulling a second trailer. She hadn’t made the trip with him because she’d needed to stay behind and get the barns warm and lay down straw bedding which Jeremiah’s ranch hands had delivered early that morning. After the alpacas, goats, and horses were settled, Willow and Jeremiah would go back with Dale to pick up the fifth-wheel, the ATVs, and the feed.
Stepping off the porch and into the snow, she walked down the freshly shoveled path, to the alpaca barn, anxious to see her new herd. The larger pasture was for the females, and a second, smaller one for the male was directly adjacent to it. That way, the animals could socialize as they were accustomed to, but their breeding could still be controlled. When they did the renovations to the horse barn, they’d also added a second, separate entrance to the alpaca barn, so the male could go in and out while remaining apart from the females.
Dale made a wide turn and then backed up the trailer to the barn with the ease of life-long practice. Eventually, she’d learn how to do that, but it was better left for another time and an empty trailer.
Climbing down from the cab, he was followed immediately by Johnny and June, who wasted no time, running directly to Willow to greet her. As she scratched their ears, Dale waved her forward. “Come on—let’s get them unloaded and into their new home.”
Nearly bouncing with excitement, she quickly pulled her phone from her pocket and snapped a selfie with the barn and truck behind her, grinning broadly and giving a thumbs up. Nathan had requested pictures of her big day. If he couldn’t be here with her in person, she was going to do what she could to share this event with him, since he’d been so supportive of her new venture.
Smiling at her enthusiasm, Dale opened the barn doors and stood to the side, waiting for Jeremiah to join them. “I figured we’d unload the alpacas and goats first, then the horses.”
Loud shuffling of feet andbaaingof goats split the air. “Sounds like they’re ready to get out of there,” Willow said. “Tell me what to do. When it comes to this kind of thing, I bow to your superior knowledge.”
“Stand to the side where you are, and I’ll stay here, while Jeremiah opens the trailer. Our job is to make sure they don’t panic and run off. Johnny and June will help herd them. In my experience, they follow the leader and go right in. Cattle are similar, right, Jeremiah?”
