“Guests?”
“From May to September, we open the ranch to visitors and operate as a dude ranch. We show folks what it’s like to live the cowboy life. Riding, roping, branding, campfire songs, the whole nine yards.”
“Wow. Carter has never mentioned it. In fact, he doesn’t talk about the ranch at all.”
I inhaled deeply to ease the ache in my chest. “Thankfully, my other son, Matty, takes to the land like a duck to water. Otherwise, it would be a real shame not to have anyone who will care about the land after I’m gone.”
“How long has the ranch been in your family?”
I filled in Ozzie on the history of the Bristle M Ranch, stretching back to the late 1800s when my great-great-grandfather staked his claim. He’d been on the run, travelingfrom the East Coast to the untamed West, armed with nothing but a shady past, determination, and foolhardy ambition.
Ozzie listened keenly, asking questions that made it clear he was interested in everything I had to say. I’d tried explaining the legacy of the land to Carter once, and he’d brushed it all aside and asked how much the whole operation was worth. Maybe if I couldn’t get through to Carter, I could to Ozzie, and he would steer Carter in the right direction.
My greatest fear was dying and him wanting to sell his share of the land. In the late nineties, we’d already lost a portion of the land to Pascal’s family because my brother had sold his share. Luckily, Pascal and I were close, and he had no children, so he hadn’t hesitated to sell it back to me when he moved to Florida.
“That’s amazing,” Ozzie said, his voice full of awe. “I don’t even know who my father is, let alone if my family has any interesting history. It’s great what you’re passing on to your sons, and I don’t mean just the land but also the hard work, accomplishments, and pride of the family.”
I tore my eyes from the road and looked at Ozzie, who wore a sweet smile. By god, he got in a few minutes what I had been trying to get Carter to understand all his life.
“You know what, Ozzie? I think you’re an excellent match for my son.”
The rest of the ride went without a hitch. Ozzie asked me about the ranch, and I might have given him way more information than necessary, but he didn’t seem to mind. He never interrupted, never steered the conversation in another direction, and had his eyes on me all the time, as if he wanted to take every word out of my mouth.
When we finally rode into town, I was surprised at how fast the time had flown by. I’d been dreading the trip, driving for so long with someone I didn’t know, but Ozzie had made it pleasant. He was a nice young man. I’d already sensed it when he risked hisneck to bring me gifts last Christmas, but the ride had confirmed it.
The least I could do for him was to give him an amazing wedding experience on the ranch, since I’d taken his beach wedding dream from him.
I’ll give him a wedding that’s much better than any beach.
“We’re here,” I said as we drove down the dusty main street of Bristlecone Springs. Rustic storefronts lined the street. We passed the modest courthouse and the market.
“Is that… a saloon?” Ozzie pointed to a weathered wooden building with swinging doors and faded print. An old-fashioned sign rocked in the late afternoon breeze above the entrance proclaiming “The Rusty Nugget.”
“It is. The saloon and the courthouse are the two oldest buildings in town.”
“Wow.”
“You can ask Carter to bring you by when he gets here.”
“I’m not one for drinking. I’m a lightweight, but I’d love to see inside sometime.”
“You just need some practice, that’s all.” I pulled up to the feed store, a weathered building with worn paint and an antique charm. “I’m sorry, but I have to pick up some supplies for the horses. It won’t take long, but if you want, you can go to the diner and grab something to eat or drink. I’ll come get you when I’m done.”
“Maybe after. I am hungry, but it can wait. I can help.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
“All right, then.” The more time I spent with Ozzie, the more I liked him. Carter would never have volunteered to step foot inside the feed store with me.
We made our way to the store, my boots crunching on the gravel. Ozzie was wearing fancy-looking sneakers that laced up to his ankles.
“Did you bring boots?” I held the door open for him.
He ducked under my arm. “No. Should I have?”
“It’s okay. I’ll get you a pair. They’re essential around here.”
