Chapter 3

3

Mason

Hoisting Abigail onto my hip, I steadied myself against the wave of stress hitting me in the gut.

“You’re gettin’ a bit big to be carried, jellybean.”

“I know, but I like it when you do. Plus, you’re strong, Daddy.”

“Yeah I am, you’re right about that.” I flexed a bicep and spun us around as I walked us toward the school’s doors. The sound of Abby’s laughter settled around my heart like a warm blanket.

“Who’s gonna watch me if Gamma and Gampa are gone?”

“Well, I’ll figure it out. We’ll get you a babysitter and I’ll see about you comin’ to the ranch more often.”

“I like that idea.”

“Plus,” I added, “I reckon I could do with some quality father-daughter time.” Abby beamed at that, wrapping her small arms around my neck like I was the hero in one of her storybooks.

“Okay, but I wanna learn how to lasso,” she declared, and we laughed because we both knew her coordination still needed work before she could rope anything bigger than a stuffed animal.

“Deal,” I conceded, kissing her forehead. But for now, let’s get you inside, huh?” I said with a jerk of my head to the building in front of us. I set Abby down and watched her skip ahead, ponytail bouncing energetically.

“Okay, Daddy! Are we gonna have spaghetti tonight? With the meatballs?”

“Sure thing, cowgirl.” My answer trailed off as I pondered the logistics of the day.

I caught up with her and ruffled her hair, forcing a smile. The truth was, I didn’t have a single clue how to juggle it all. But I’d be damned if I didn’t find a way.

Abby looked at me, her mouth twisted up at the corner. “And can you not have Mrs. Baker as my babysitter? She smells like old hairspray and she doesn’t let me have cookies.”

I stifled a laugh and held the door open for her. “I’ll make some calls today and find someone real nice. It’ll all work out, jellybean.”

“Okay, Daddy. I trust you.” Her words hit deep, fueling my resolve.

“Thanks, baby girl,” I said, leaning down to kiss the top of her head again. “Your ol’ man won’t let you down.”

As I watched her disappear into the schoolhouse, the weight of the promise hung heavy on my shoulders. I had to make this work. And I would.

I was halfway through checking the water troughs when my phone buzzed in the back pocket of my faded jeans. I wiped a hand across my brow, smearing dirt and sweat, and squinted at the screen. It was a text from June Henderson—longtime neighbor, twice-retired schoolteacher, and possessor of the biggest heart in Whittier Falls.

“Abby can come over after school. No trouble at all,” it read, and I nearly dropped the phone in relief.

“June, you’re a lifesaver,” I typed back, my big thumbs moving awkwardly on the small keyboard. “I owe you big time.”

“Consider it a favor for a favor. Remember that time you fixed my fence in a jiffy? We’re even now.” Her response came with a winky face and a speed that made me chuckle.

“Still, thanks,” I said into the vast space of the ranch, as if she could hear me. “You’re the best.”

With that sorted out, I shoved the phone away and turned my attention back to the task at hand. The sun climbed higher, casting long shadows across the fields, and I could feel the heat of the day setting in. I had fences to mend, horse training to oversee, and paperwork that wouldn’t file itself.

“Hey, Mase!” Luke, one of the newer ranch hands, called out, waving his hat in the air. “The feed delivery’s here, and the Miller mare’s acting up again.”

“Be right there!” I hollered back, striding towards him with purposeful steps. My mind ticked off tasks like a metronome, each step bringing me closer to the next problem to solve.

“Keep her calm. I’ll check on her in a minute,” I instructed before veering off toward the delivery truck. A balancing act, this life of mine. But I’ve gotten pretty damn good at it.

“Morning, Mason,” greeted the delivery guy, tipping his cap. “Where do you want these?”

“Round back, by the new stables. I’ll help you unload.” I grabbed a sack of feed, muscles flexing under the weight, and we fell into a quick rhythm. Stack, haul, repeat. My phone vibrated again, a reminder from Abby’s school about an upcoming parent-teacher conference.

“Got a sec?” I asked the driver, who nodded as I shot off a reply confirming my attendance. Multitasking was second nature by now—like breathing or riding a horse.

“Thanks for the help,” the driver said once we’d finished, slapping my shoulder before climbing back into his cab.

“Anytime,” I assured him. I watched the truck rumble away, dust kicking up behind it, and allowed myself a small smile. One chore down, several dozen to go. And with June watching Abby in the afternoons, at least one worry had been lassoed and tied off.

“Alright, let’s see what’s got the Miller mare spooked,” I muttered to myself, heading back to the stables. Every step was another note in the symphony of ranch life—a tune I knew by heart, even if it changed tempo every now and then.