He started the truck, then turned to make sure Noah was still buckled in, before glancing at me again. “You good?”
“Good,” I said, even though my heart was vibrating in my throat.
We pulled onto Maple and headed north out of town. The windows were cracked, and the Montana air filled the cab, cool and sharp with the scent of grass and distant woodsmoke.
Ford pointed out landmarks as we went. “That's the church where I broke my arm trying to climb the bell tower when I was eleven. Pastor Wilson caught me halfway up and I fell trying to get away. And over there's the fire hall—I used to sneak in with Mason after school and slide down the pole until Chief Donovan chased us out with a broom.” He had a way of telling stories that made every place we passed feel like it mattered.
Noah peppered him with questions, which Ford fielded with the patience of a saint.
“What’s that big thing?”
“That’s a grain silo. Holds a million pounds of wheat.”
“Can we go in it?”
“Not unless you want to get buried in flour and never see daylight again.”
“Cool,” Noah breathed.
I watched the fields roll by, golden and brittle, ready for the first snow. The mountains in the distance glowed purple, their tops streaked with the last of the setting sun. There was something about the way the light fell across the landscape that made me feel both huge and tiny all at once.
Ford glanced at me during a lull in Noah’s interrogation. “You grew up out here, right?”
“Yeah. My mom and I lived about ten miles north, on the old Michaels farm. I used to work summers at the farmers market, selling tomatoes.”
Ford’s mouth twitched, like he knew what I wasn’t saying. “Did you always want to stay in Whittier Falls?”
The question made me think. “I used to think I’d leave as soon as I could. Go to college, live in a city. But then I met my ex.” My voice softened to avoid Noah’s ears. “Got married fartoo young and sort of just stayed around here.” I shrugged. “It’s not so bad.”
“It’s beautiful,” Ford said, and I wasn’t sure if he meant the landscape or something else.
I turned to look out the window, feeling my face heat up. In the back seat, Noah sang quietly to himself, making up a song about trucks and pancakes and “getting flour power.”
After a few miles, Ford slowed and took a gravel turnoff marked with a sun-faded sign: RED DOWNS RANCH.
We followed the winding drive through a patchwork of fence lines, past corrals and barns and a long, low house that seemed to rise straight out of the field. The porch light was on, even though the sun was still high enough to paint everything in gold.
Ford parked beside a battered old Chevy pickup that looked like it’d been held together with duct tape and spit for a decade. “That’s Gray’s ranch truck I bet,” he said. “I can tell by the missing tailgate.”
We got out. The ranch was alive with noise—cattle lowing in a far field, the thud of boots on wood, someone inside the house laughing. Noah immediately spotted a group of cows in the pasture and pointed, shrieking, “LOOK, MAMA! COWS!”
I tried to keep him from darting into the grass, but Ford caught his arm, swooping him up and tossing him in the air. Noah squealed and clapped, completely fearless.
“They’re so big!” Noah screamed, pointing at a pair of heifers just inside the fence line. “Do they eat kids?”
“Only the bad ones,” Ford called, and Noah laughed so hard he nearly fell out of Ford’s arms.
“Look at all the cows waiting for you to moo at them” Ford said, and Noah’s whole body vibrated with excitement.
“MOOOO!” Noah yelled, then giggled when a cow moo’d back in the distance.
I glanced at Ford. The last of the sunlight caught the side of his face, highlighting the faint stubble and the curve of his jaw. He caught me looking and gave a shy half-smile. I could tell he was nervous, which made me feel a little braver than usual.
He reached for my hand, the briefest touch, and then let go, as if he wasn’t sure if it was allowed. I liked that about him.
I trailed behind as Ford led the way up the porch steps. The door swung open before we even reached it.
Eryn stood in the doorway, arms outstretched, wearing a yellow dress and a grin that could power the eastern grid. “You made it!” She pulled me in for a hug, then ruffled Noah’s hair. “Look at you, little man! Did Ford drive too fast?”
