We load up in the UTV, deciding to leave the truck here; no one will mess with it up here and we'll come back for it tomorrow.
The first fence line we check runs along the wide, grassy meadow. The fence posts are sturdy, but the wire has seen better days. We park, and I grab the toolbox from the back.
“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” I say, hopping out and inspecting the fence
Emma follows, watching closely as I assess the damage.
“This section needs tightening,” I explain, pointing to a sagging wire. “And that post over there could use some reinforcement.
Together, we get to work. Weston shows Emma how to use the fence stretcher, her hands steady as she follows his instructions. She’s a quick learner, her determination to try everything and not bat an eye at manual labor is amazing.
As we work, we talk about everything and nothing—our childhoods, our dreams, the little things that make up our days. The connection between us feels stronger with every shared task.
With the first fence repaired, we climb back into the UTV and continue on our route.
The trail leads us into a wooded area, where the canopy casts shadows on the ground.
“It’s beautiful,” Emma breathes, leaning forward to take in the sights. “So peaceful.”
We emerge from the woods into another open field, this one dotted with wildflowers. The fence here is in better shape, but a few posts have started to lean. We park again and get to work.
As we finish the repair, the sun starts to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the landscape. We hop back into the UTV and make our way to the last section of the fence, which borders a small creek.
“This is my favorite part of the ranch,” I confess, stopping so we can sit and listen to the creek for a moment. “It’s where I come when I need to clear my head.”
“It’s perfect,” Emma says softly, her eyes meeting mine. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”
“Now, don’t tell anyone, but when we cross the creek, which we were technically not supposed to do, we’re on National Park land.”
“I won’t tell if you won't,” she breathes.
“I don’t know.” Weston shrugs. “Is Red a good secret keeper?”
She sticks her tongue out at him. “Have I told either of you who’s better in bed?”
I throw my head back and laugh a deep belly laugh.
“That’s no secret, Hellcat. It’s me. We both know my twin is the gentle one and that’s not what you like, is it baby?”
“He sure wasn’t gentle last night. So, are you sure you’re right?” She purses her lips and raises a brow.
“Touche, baby. Touche.”
I hit the gas and we splash through the creek to the other side and Emma laughs as we get wet.
The way she looks at the world, with such wonder and excitement—it’s contagious. We come across a herd of wild horses as they gallop across the meadow. Emma snaps a million pictures, excitement radiating off her.
"Look at them, guys! They’re beautiful," she exclaims, her eyes wide.
"They are," I agree, though my eyes are more on her than the horses. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
As we make our way back to the house, the UTV bumping gently over the trail, we spot a mountain goat perched high on a rocky hill. Emma’s eyes light up, and she starts snapping photos with her camera, her giggles ringing out in the crisp evening air.
“Don’t tell that guy,” she says, a playful grin on her face, “but your guys’ goats are cuter.”
We laugh, the sound echoing in the quiet of the evening. I love seeing her like this, so happy and carefree.
When we pull up, Carson is on the porch, a rare smile breaking through his usually serious personality.