Page 56 of Awaiting the Storm
Her brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, the land sale went through, and we negotiated a fifteen-day closing. We’re meeting at the attorney’s office on Friday to finalize the paperwork. The ranch’s not in a desperate place anymore. So, I don’t want you doing this if you feel like you or Jupiter aren’t ready.”
She huffs a little, clearly irritated. “Matty—”
“I mean it,” I say. “We’re in a good place, and I don’t want you taking any unnecessary risks to win that purse money.”
She looks away for a second, like she’s collecting her thoughts. Then she says, quieter, “It’s not just about the money.”
That surprises me. “It’s not?”
She looks back at me and says, “I miss it. I miss competing. I miss racing. I came back to help when Harleigh left for school and you started letting staff go. I’ve been working nonstop, just like everyone else, giving everything we have to this place and this family; I don’t regret it, but I need something more. I want it. I’m not saying I want to join the circuit again full-time; I don’t want to chase sponsorships and live on the roadtwenty-four/seven. I just want to feel that thrill again, just one more time.”
I exhale slowly, my heart softening. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“If you’re doing it for you, then you’ve got my blessing. Just promise me you’ll be careful. Jupiter’s your partner, not a machine. Listen to what he’s telling you.”
She nods, and I can see the tension ease out of her shoulders. “Thanks, Matty.”
I wrap her in a hug. “I wish I could go to Cheyenne with you,” I say into her hair. “I always loved watching you race.”
“Me too. But Cabe is going with me, and Uncle Boone and Aunt Irene are coming along to watch Axle and Royce.”
Giles walks over to give me his assessment on Jupiter’s stride, and while I listen to the technical run-down, I sense someone approaching behind me. I glance over my shoulder just as Carl makes it to my side.
“Hi, Matty,” he says, then lifts his chin. “Giles.”
“Hey,” I say, turning slightly to look at him. “Didn’t expect you out here this late.”
“I came to help wrangle some cows that got loose from Briarwood. They stumbled into our north pasture this afternoon. Figured I’d swing by when I saw the arena lights on.”
He leans against the fence casually, close but not too close, his eyes set on Shelby and Jupiter now walking in slow circles along the edge of the arena.
“She looks good out there,” he says. “Even with that stumble.”
“You saw that?”
He nods. “I watched from the barn after putting my horse up.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “She’s getting her rhythm back.”
Carl’s quiet for a second, then says, “I’m glad you’re all right.”
I glance over at him. “Me?”
“You. Your dad. The family. The ranch. I heard about the sale. I think it was a good move.”
I nod, feeling the wind pick up again and whip a few loose strands of hair into my face.
“Thanks,” I say after a beat. “I’ve been meaning to tell you … thank you. For all your help these last couple of weeks. You’ve stepped up. Helped keep things together while we were at the hospital and then playing catch-up. I really appreciate it.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“I do, Carl. I know things haven’t been easy between us since you came back. But you’ve been solid and a good friend.”
He turns to look at me fully now. “Matty, Wildhaven Storm isn’t just a job for me. It’s my home. Your family? They’re my family too. I’d do anything for them. For you. But …”
