Page 64 of Lost Then Found
He listens. Pays attention. By the time we’re ready, he’s standing a little taller. Still nervous, but not frozen.
“Now for the fun part,” I say, tapping the stirrup. “Left foot in. Grab the horn. Swing your right leg over.”
He eyes the saddle like it’s Everest. “You make it sound easy.”
I grin. “Everything’s hard ’‘til you get good at it.”
He gives it a shot. Doesn’t quite make it. Tries again. Gets a little closer.
“Use more leg,” I say, steadying him with a hand on his ankle.
Third time’s the charm. He swings over, lands in the saddle with a wide-eyed look that hits me square in the chest.
“Holy crap,” he breathes. “I’m so high up.”
I chuckle, cinch everything one last time, then swing up behind him. “Alright, now hands here—loose grip, don’t choke it. Reins are for talking, not yelling.”
He nods, hands tight on the leather.
“You ready?” I ask.
He nods again, more sure this time. “Yeah.”
I give Springsteen a small nudge with my heels. He moves.
And just like that—we ride.
We ease into a walk, the horse’s gait steady beneath us. It’s muscle memory at this point—automatic, familiar—and it settles something tight in my chest. I glance back. Lark’s behind us, sitting easy in Ellie’s saddle like she never left. Her posture’s loose, confident. She always rode like the horse was an extension of her. Fast, fearless, and so damn fluid it used to stop people in their tracks. Used to stop me, too.
She hasn’t lost it. Not even a little.
Hudson leans back into me slightly, his shoulders relaxed. “This is so cool.”
I smirk. “Yeah? Not bad for your first ride, huh?”
He shakes his head. “No way. Can we go faster?”
I chuckle, guiding Springsteen with a gentle pull on the reins. “We’ll get there. One step at a time.”
We follow the fence line. Fields wide open on both sides, the mountains cut sharp in the distance. Sun’s dropping lower, casting everything in that late-afternoon gold. The kind of light that makes the ranch feel almost holy. Been seeing it my whole life, and it still gets me.
I wonder if he feels it too.
“What’s your favorite part about living here?” Hudson asks.
I think on it for a second. “Mornings. Before the noise starts. Just me and the sky. And the space out here—it matters. Nobody breathing down your neck. You make your own way.”
He hums like he’s filing that away. “Sounds nice.”
I glance down at him. “Besides baseball, what else are you into?”
He shrugs. “Movies. Mom and I watch a lot of them.”
“Yeah? What kind?”
He smirks. “The good ones. She made me watchJurassic Parkwhen I was little. I’ve probably seen it a hundred times.”
I let out a laugh. “Figures. She used to make me watch it too. That’s actually where Ellie got her name.”
