Swift and Saddled: A Rebel Blue Ranch Novel

Ryder Day was shaping up to be one of my favorite days ever. After an unexpectedly emotional start, Wes and I reluctantly got out of bed and started our days. He was going to check on Loretta and help Gus with a few things around the ranch before both of them came back to the Big House to celebrate the Ryder family holiday.

While Wes and I were getting dressed, he asked me if I wanted to call Chance back, and if I wanted him there while I did. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about why Chance had called me, but I wasn’t curious enough to call him back.

I told Wes no.

If there was something pressing or urgent—I couldn’t imagine what—he would call again or text or find some other way to get in contact with me.

A few months after everything went down, I thought about what I would feel if Chance ever reached out to me. I’d tried to get in touch with him in the weeks immediately after the divorce papers showed up in my mailbox, but I was never successful. He didn’t want to talk to me—until now, apparently—nearly two years later.

Back then, I thought I’d be comforted by some sort of closure from him. Now I thought the closure that I’d established for myself over the last year was more important.

So what did I feel about the unexpected phone call? Shocked. And I had every right to be.

What did I feel about the man making the phone call? Nothing. It wasn’t an empty nothing or a hurt nothing, it was an…indifferent nothing.

It was the opposite of what I felt when I thought about Wes, but I wasn’t ready to dive into that train of thought yet, especially with the Arizona offer looming over me.

I walked into the kitchen and saw Amos. He was reading the paper and drinking a smoothie that I assumed was healthy based on the fact that it was the color of dirt.

When I walked in, he said, “Good morning, Ada.”

It was rare for me to see Amos in the mornings—I swear the man woke up at three. “Good morning,” I replied. “Or should I say happy Ryder Day? Is that a thing?”

Amos chuckled. “Happy Ryder Day.”

“What made you decide to create your own holiday?” I asked with a smile. I was genuinely curious, and I liked listening to Amos talk.

He smiled back, and it was warm and kind. He slid a cup of coffee across the counter to me. “You know,” he said, “you’re the first person who’s ever asked me that.”

“Really?”

Amos shrugged. “My kids don’t know a life without Ryder Day, so I don’t think they’ve ever thought about the why—maybe just the what and the who.”

I sat on the chair next to him and took a sip of my coffee. “I’m listening.”

“It was Stella’s idea,” Amos said thoughtfully. Stella. Amos’s late wife, Wes’s mom. Amos leaned back in his chair. “When I was a kid, my father had Ranchers Day, which was just a day he took off from work, basically. He had…different priorities than me.” Amos’s mouth turned down slightly. “He wasn’t a kind man. He wasn’t faithful to my mother, he didn’t care much about me or my brothers, so when I inherited Rebel Blue—which wasn’t supposed to happen because I was the youngest—I decided I didn’t want to do anything that he did.

“Stella knew that,” Amos continued. “So on our first anniversary, she pitched Ryder Day—a day to celebrate us, the family we were building, and the place that we took care of and that took care of us.” Amos’s eyes had gone soft, and his tone was ardent. I used to doubt that Wes was as good as he seemed, but the more time I’d spent around the Ryders, the more I realized that all three of them—even Gus, who was a lot grumpier than the other two—were the product of a devoted father, who loved them so loudly they couldn’t help but be good people.

“That’s beautiful,” I said. “Thank you for letting me join in the fun.” I hoped I sounded as sincere as I felt.

“We’re all happy to have you,” he said. “You’re a part of Rebel Blue now.” Amos’s words burrowed their way into my heart, and I wanted to keep them there forever. He said I was a part of Rebel Blue, but I felt like Rebel Blue was a part of me.

It was weird. I’d spent my entire life feeling like I didn’t belong—not because I didn’t fit in or because I was lonely, but because I felt like I just belonged elsewhere.

But I hadn’t known where.

I think I might have been homesick for Rebel Blue before I knew it existed.

—

A few hours later, Emmy and I set the table outside and pulled out more Adirondack chairs from a storage shed to put around the fire pit. Emmy was wearing a red sundress that looked like it was made for her. As we were setting up, she had turned on a Bluetooth speaker and there were some country songs playing that I didn’t know.

“Is it a requirement at Rebel Blue to like country music?” I asked jokingly.

“Kind of, yeah,” she replied. “And old-school rock and roll.”

“See, that I can do.” I waved my hand toward the speaker. “But this is not my jam.”

“Hmm. We’ll see how long that lasts,” she said with a smile. It was going to last forever, but I didn’t have the heart to tell her that. I would not become a country convert.

Even though some of the songs were pretty catchy.

Brooks and Amos started bringing food out to the table. Amos had been cooking all day, and Emmy had joined him pretty early. I popped in and out of the kitchen as they worked, listening to them talk and occasionally jumping into the conversation. Luke had shown up about an hour ago and joined in.

I hadn’t seen Wes since this morning, but he’d texted me and told me he and Gus would be there soon.

“Hello, Ryders!” Teddy’s voice came from the back door. I looked over from where I was placing the silverware next to each plate to see her standing in the doorway. In front of her was a man in a wheelchair, who I assumed was her dad, Hank. His gray hair was pulled into a ponytail, and he had a long beard. I could see from here that his skin was covered with tattoos—including his hands. He was wearing a black Led Zeppelin T-shirt that looked like it was straight out of 1972.

In short, he looked badass.

He had a guitar case and a cane across his lap.

Everyone gave Teddy and Hank a wave, and Luke went to the doorway to help get the wheelchair safely down the step.

I watched Amos walk over to him and shake Hank’s hand. Emmy gave him a kiss on the cheek. Teddy pushed Hank to the head of the table, near where I was, and introduced me to her dad.

“Dad,” she said, “this is Ada. She’s the interior designer who’s helping Wes.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “The one Wes is smitten with.” Yeah, there was no question that this man was Teddy’s father. I felt my eyes widen. I didn’t know how to react to that.

“I swear to God,” Teddy said with a groan, “I’m never telling you anything ever again.”

Hank’s eyes twinkled. They were the same color as Teddy’s—a silvery blue. He reached one of his weathered hands out to me. I noticed the tattoos on his knuckles but couldn’t read them. “Nice to meet you, Ada. I’m Hank.”

“Now he’s got manners,” Teddy muttered. She looked at me and mouthed “Sorry.”

I shook Hank’s hand. “Nice to meet you,” I said with a shy smile.

“Teddy’s told me a lot about you.”

“Clearly,” I said with a chuckle. “But I’m not sure ‘smitten’ is the right word,” I added, trying to downplay what I was feeling.

“I am.” That was Wes’s voice. When I turned around, he was walking toward me, Waylon in tow, from the back door. I hadn’t heard him arrive. When he got close enough, he put a hand on my lower back and kissed my temple. I was so focused on his touch and the electric current it sent through me that I barely had time to worry about the fact that Wes was touching me, kissing me, in front of everyone.

Or the fact that I liked it. A lot.

Gus appeared in the doorway with Riley on his shoulders. When she saw me, she waved and called, “Hi, Ada Althea Hart!”

Damn—good memory on that kid. “Hello, Riley Amos Ryder,” I called back. Gus lifted Riley up and over his head so he could set her down.

“Uncle Wes brought a calf home the other day,” he said, ruffling her hair. Riley’s eyes widened adorably. “She’s in the pasture on the other side of the house. Why don’t you go say hi?”

Riley didn’t even respond—she just took off like a shot.

Gus joined our circle and offered Hank his hand. Hank took it. “Good to see you, Gus,” he said.

“You, too,” Gus replied, and I could’ve sworn he smiled—just a little bit.

Teddy turned to me. “Ada,” she said, “can you pinch me really quick? Maybe punch me in the face?” My brow furrowed. What? “That guy talking to my dad looks a lot like my sleep paralysis demon, and I need to wake up before he gets any closer.”

Gus rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to hear about the dreams you have about me, Theodora.”

“Nightmares,” Teddy corrected.

I looked at Hank, who was looking from his daughter to Gus and back with a small smile.

“Is Cam coming?” Wes jumped in. I’d learned that if someone didn’t cut Gus and Teddy off, they’d just keep hurling insults at each other.

“No,” Gus said with a sigh. “Something came up. She didn’t sound good on the phone, and she asked if I could keep Riley for the weekend.” Gus shook his head. “Honestly, I’m worried about her.”

“Did she get her bar results back?” Teddy asked him. The sarcastic and condescending tone she normally employed when speaking to Gus was gone—concern for Cam took over.

“She hasn’t mentioned it,” Gus said. It was obvious that Gus cared about Cam as more than just the mother of his child. From what I’d observed, the two of them were friends.

Teddy reached her hand out and squeezed Gus’s arm. Gus looked at her, but by the time I’d blinked, Teddy’s hand was back at her side and Gus was looking away. I could’ve imagined the whole thing.

“I’m sure she’ll be okay,” Teddy said to no one in particular. At least, I think that’s how she wanted it to seem. I made a mental note to text Cam tomorrow and see if she was okay.

“Dinner’s ready!” Emmy called. She, Amos, and Brooks brought out the last platters of food and set them on the table.

There was so much food—I had no idea how we would eat it all. Potato salad, roasted carrots, grilled zucchini and corn. Deviled eggs, fruit, and homemade rolls. The meal was rounded out by barbecued grilled chicken. Everything about it felt perfect—the food, the setting, the people.

We all sat. Amos and Hank were at the heads of the table. Gus was next to Amos, Riley was next to him, and then came Emmy and Brooks. On the other side of the table, Teddy sat next to her father. Then there were me and Wes, who had one of his hands on my thigh under the table for all of dinner, which didn’t escape Emmy’s notice.

I tried not to think about what she’d said while we were riding—that I shouldn’t treat Wes like a final destination if I was planning to move on. I knew what she meant, but nothing about Wes felt temporary, and I didn’t know how to treat him like he was.

But that didn’t change the fact that this wasn’t permanent.

That thought made my stomach curl, and I set down my fork abruptly. There was a lot of chatter going on, so no one noticed—except Wes.

He always noticed.

“You okay?” he whispered. I just nodded and gave him the best smile I could muster. I could tell he didn’t believe me, but he didn’t push it. He just gave my thigh a reassuring squeeze.

Dinner stretched until the sun started to set. The sky was vibrant with orange, pink, and purple. I’d seen a lot of Wyoming sunsets over the past few months, and it felt like every single one was more beautiful than the last.

After dinner, Wes, Brooks, and Gus cleared the table and returned with blankets and supplies for s’mores.

We moved to the chairs around the fire pit. “So,” Wes said as he draped a blanket over my lap, “how has your first Ryder Day been?” The way he said “first,” like there would be more, made my heart jump, then fall.

“I think I love Ryder Day,” I said. Wes looked at me the way I looked at the sunset, and I wanted to run and hide. There was just so much…feeling when he looked at me.

I turned away and grabbed a marshmallow out of the bag that Teddy handed me. Hank started strumming his guitar as the fire crackled. I was surprised at how skilled he was. The song he was playing was soft and beautiful, almost wistful.

I felt like it was wrapping itself around me.

“What song is this?” I asked Wes, who was lighting his marshmallow on fire.

“Let Me Call You Sweetheart,” he responded without a thought. My throat tightened, and even though Wes was just answering my question, it felt like more.

Wes felt like more.

This place, this family—it all felt like more. In that moment, I could almost see it—the future I wished I could have. A future where I got to sit by this fire next to Wes while surrounded by people I was starting to feel close to.

My heart ached for a future that wasn’t beholden to my past.

The past that gave me an interminable urge to run just to avoid feeling stuck—even if running made my heart blister and my soul weary.

I couldn’t be here right now.

“I—I’m not feeling well,” I whispered to Wes. “I’m going to go to bed.”

“Are you okay? Do you want me to come with you?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m fine. Just need some rest.”

I stood up. My head had the same feeling it did when Emmy found me on the path—like it was full and could spill at any moment.

“Tapping out?” Teddy asked. “Aggie and Dusty haven’t even shown up yet.”

I nodded. “I’m not feeling well,” I repeated. “Thank you for letting me be part of your day,” I said. “It was wonderful.” And it was, but wonderful things didn’t last. I walked toward the door, trying not to let anyone see that I was falling apart.

“Let us know if you need anything,” Emmy called after me. I didn’t respond. I just kept walking. I didn’t stop until I made it into the room and shut the door behind me.

My back against the door, I sank to the floor. When I looked up, I realized I’d gone to Wes’s room instead of my own.

I sighed. I couldn’t stay in here, so I got to my feet. I was about to open the door and head to my room when I saw a notebook on Wes’s bed. I recognized the brown leather. It was his sketchbook.

I didn’t know what possessed me to cross the room and pick it up—much less open it. Curiosity, maybe. Or maybe it was because he wasn’t here to comfort me and this felt like the next best thing.

Either way, I flipped it open. It landed on a page near the middle of the sketchbook. I’d never seen any of Wes’s sketches up close—just in passing—so I didn’t know what to expect. The first thing I thought was that the sketch I was looking at was beautiful.

Of course it was.

It was a string of roses, thorns, and leaves. They were shaded beautifully, boldly. The style looked familiar to me, but I couldn’t pinpoint why.

I turned the page to find a similar drawing, but the roses on this one were colored. The red was vivid.

Again I turned the page, and again I found roses, thorns, and leaves. Again, and again, and again.

Every page looked familiar to me, as though I’d seen it before. But it wasn’t until I flipped the page again and the roses, leaves, and thorns were drawn onto the sketch of an arm and shoulder that I realized why these images looked familiar.

It was because I saw them in the mirror every day.

Just then, the door opened, and I froze.

I didn’t turn to look at him. I didn’t close the sketchbook. I just stood there staring down at the drawings.

The door clicked shut, and within a few seconds he was behind me—so close I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. Every nerve in my body was firing little bolts of lightning.

“These sketches,” I whispered. “Are they…”

“Yeah,” he breathed before I could finish.

“Why?” I said softly.

“You know why,” he said. I squeezed my eyes shut. This was too much. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

It’s not what’s wrong, I thought to myself. It’s what’s right. But that’s not what I said. “I can’t do this,” I said as I turned to face him.

“Tell me why,” he said.

“Because I’m leaving in a few weeks, Wes. This was never going to be anything but temporary.” My voice was hollow. It wasn’t convincing. “We never should have started this,” I said.

“You want to call it quits because of a little distance?” he asked, like it was ridiculous.

“I’m going to Arizona,” I blurted, even though I hadn’t accepted the job or even responded to Irie’s email. “I got an offer. They want me to start in August.”

Wes’s face looked stunned and then hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it has nothing to do with you,” I said. The words tasted like bile. “You’re my boss. I’m contracted for a project. Once that project is complete, I’m done. I move on. I get a new boss.”

Wes’s features shifted from hurt to anger. “So that’s all I am to you, then?”

“That, and a good lay.” I shrugged, trying not to show how much I was hurting. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Wes laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Oh, so that’s what you’re trying to do, push me away.” Yes, I thought. “Well, guess what, sweetheart? You can push all you want, but I’m not going anywhere.”

“But I am,” I said. “I’m leaving, Wes. What don’t you get about that?”

“And I’m so fucking proud of you,” Wes said. “You deserve that job. I want you to take it. I’m not going to hold you back from following your dreams.”

I blinked slowly. That was…not the response I was expecting.

“I can see you’re confused.” He stepped closer to me. “So let me break this down for you: I fucking adore you, Ada. You are, without a doubt, the most brilliant and purposeful woman that I’ve ever met, and I would be the stupidest man alive if I let something as stupid and surmountable as distance take you away from me.”

“You don’t even know me,” I said.

Wes took a deep breath. “I know that your feet and hands are always cold no matter the weather. I know that you prefer to wake up early on the weekends because you would rather take a nap in the afternoon than sleep in. I know you love sour candy and hate repeating yourself. I know you’re always on time, and I know you’re lying about hating country music.” He paused for a minute before saying, “I know you.”

“No, you don’t. Those are all little things. Tiny things.”

“The little things are the big things, Ada. They’re the things all the big things are made of. I might not know you all the way, but I want to, and I’m just asking you to give me a chance to do that.”

I shook my head. “You don’t want me that way, Wes. You might think that you do, but you don’t. I’m not the woman for you.” My heart broke as I said it, and I had to look down at the floor. If I looked at him, I would start crying. “Once I leave, you’ll realize it. And then you’ll find her—someone as warm and bright as you.”

He was quiet, and the silence allowed me to feel the weight of my words. They were heavy enough to crush me. After a few moments, I felt Wes’s finger snake under my chin, forcing me to look at him.

I thought he would look angry, but he didn’t. He looked sincere as he said, “You say you’re not nice, or warm, or bright, or any of these other stupid fucking words that people use to describe the sun, but I never asked you to be the sun.” I rolled my eyes, trying to move them in a way that would stop the tears from falling. “I would rather have the moon anyway.”

I scoffed at him then. Acting like he was being ridiculous was my only defense mechanism. “I’m the moon?” I asked sarcastically.

“You’re the moon,” he said. “And I’m the tides. You pull me in without even trying, and I come to you willingly. I always will.”

The tears finally spilled over, and I collapsed onto the floor. Wes knelt in front of me. “I need you to be honest with me, sweetheart,” he said. “Do you want this? Do you want me?” I felt like he already knew the answer to that question but wanted to make sure I knew it too.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

“Then we owe it to each other to try.” I stayed quiet, letting tears stream down my face. “Please, Ada, tell me we can try.”

“Okay,” I said so softly I didn’t even know if he could hear me, but he must have because he wrapped me in his arms, and I let myself melt into him. Even though I’d started it, I didn’t want to have this fight. I just didn’t know what else to do.

When I fell asleep in his arms later that night, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, things could work out.