Page 18 of Mistletoe Cowboy
“Like everyone else is about to know,” I say with a crooked smile.
She mirrors it, sunlight warming her cheeks.
The wind picks up again, softer now, brushing the snow into thin veils that dance across the pasture. The ranch hums back tolife around us. Lowing cattle, distant hammer strikes, the world reminding us it still exists.
Sage looks toward the main house, smoke curling from the chimney, windows bright against the snow. “What happens when we walk through that door together?”
I don’t sugarcoat it. “There’ll be questions. Judgment. Maybe worse.”
She nods, quiet. “And us?”
I reach over, catch her reins, pull her horse close enough that our boots bump. “Us stays the same,” I say. “Storm or sunshine. Doesn’t matter anymore.”
For a moment, she just stares at me, eyes wet, shining like spring thaw. Then, she gives a small, fierce nod. “Then, let’s go home.”
We ride on through the melting snow, side by side, toward whatever waits.
Behind us, the line shack stands small against the ridge, half-buried but still standing. Proof that some things, once tested, don’t break.
Epilogue
SILAS
THREE MONTHS LATER
The storm melted into memory faster than I expected.
The pastures are still scarred with ice, the air still carries the bite of winter, but Alpha Ridge Creek feels different now—like the world exhaled and decided we’d earned another chance.
I stand by the rebuilt fence line, gloved hands braced on the top rail. The new wire hums faintly in the wind, tight and strong. Sage’s laughter drifts from the barn, the sound light and full in a way I haven’t heard in years.
Buzz barks once and bounds across the yard, chasing her shadow as she tosses a flake of hay into the trough. She’s wrapped in my old Carhartt, the one that hangs off her shoulders like it was made for her. Maybe it was.
I didn’t think the world would understand. Turns out, it didn’t have to.
Ralph’s truck rattles past, heading toward town. He honks twice, gives a little salute. Guess that’s his way of sayingwe’re good.Maybe he’s come to terms with what’s between us. Or maybe he just knows better than to pick a fight he can’t win.
Walter’s gone quiet since the morning they found him. Sober, working nights at the mill in town. Signed over the ranch to us for a paltry sum—not our offering price, his measure of its worth. To me, it’s priceless, like my girl.
The wind shifts, carrying Sage’s voice. “You gonna stand there admiring the view all day, Cowboy, or are you gonna help me with these calves?”
I grin and turn toward her. “Can’t help it. Best view in Idaho.”
She rolls her eyes but smiles, the corners of her mouth softening. “Flattery won’t get you out of chores.”
“Worth a shot,” I say, crossing the yard. The snow crunches under my boots, sunlight glinting off the peaks behind her. She pets a newborn calf, small and wobbly, coat still soft and curled like chick fuzz.
“First one of the season,” she says, pride and wonder mingling in her voice.
I reach out, brush the calf’s soft ears. “Looks like it’s gonna be a strong one.”
“Like its mama,” she teases, meeting my gaze.
The moment hangs there—simple, quiet, enough.
I slip an arm around her waist, pull her close. She leans into me without hesitation, head resting against my shoulder. For the first time, the wordhomedoesn’t feel temporary. It feels earned.
“Storms’ll come again,” Sage murmurs.
