Wild Country – Shotgun Kinda Love

Chestnut Ridge

Kershaw Ranch

The dust hadn’t even settled from Lance McCoy’s dramatic exit — a whole damn cloud hangin’ over the horizon like a storm that forgot to rain — before we all ended up inside my dining room. The air still tasted like grit and horse sweat, the kind that sticks to your teeth and makes you feel like you’ve been chewin’ on the desert.

The old oak table creaked under the weight of elbows, coffee mugs, and tension. The house smelled like strong coffee, saddle soap, and the faint lavender cleaner Amy used when she was tryin’ to keep herself busy instead of worryin’.

Beau sat at the head of the table with a bag of frozen peas pressed to his jaw, wincing every time the cold bit into the bruise. Amy hovered over him, fussin’ like a mother hen with a chick that’d wandered too close to a coyote.

Pa Jack, Cody, and I sat across from him, arms crossed, brows low, starin’ him down like three judges at a county fair who already knew the pie was burnt but wanted to hear the baker admit it.

Pa finally broke the silence, drawlin’, “Jus’ somebody say somethin’ already.”

I slammed my palm on the table, the sound crackin’ through the room like a whip. “Okay. I’m gon’ start by askin’ ya if ya lost yer damn mind, Beau Wyatt! I brought ya back not one but three big boxes of condoms from my last supply run to the city. I didn’t get ya those to look pretty in yer cabinet, boy! Ever thought of usin’ ’em?”

I whacked him in the back of the head. The peas rustled.

“I did!” Beau snapped, jaw flarin’ with pain.

“Ya gotta wear one every damn time, you fool!” Cody chimed in — and immediately got smacked upside the head by both Pa and me.

Pa barked, “You best not be givin’ my grandson grief about somethin’ you done gone messed up yerself! Sounds like he’s got a better plan than you ever did. At least he’s got his own home — more than you got!”

Beau muttered, “I did use one every time… until they were all gone.”

I stared at him. My eyes damn near fell outta my head.

All three boxes? How much had that boy been goin’ at it to burn through that many?

I did the math in my head — three boxes, thirty‑six each… that’s a hundred and eight. A hundred and eight. In what… not even two months since I last went to the next big town with actual supermarkets? Yeah, had to be about six or seven weeks. Lord have mercy, that was practically a second job. Especially considerin’ they weren’t even livin’ together — sneakin’ around, findin’ quiet moments, slippin’ away to meet up in secret spots. Holy smokes, rabbits could take lessons from my kid!

He saw the realization dawn on me and gave a sheepish little grin.

“I love her, Pa,” he said softly. “Like you loved Ma. You were always so damn passionate and when you were, Briony and I always knew all was good. It’s when one of ya got too busy with somethin’ else that—”

“Shut yer mouth, boy!” Pa roared, voice like a thunderclap. Beau winced, peas rustlin’ against his cheek. Pa jabbed his chin toward Amy. “Ya best apologize to yer mother right now!”

Amy stiffened, while she was Beau’s mother every bit as much as she was to his younger sisters, she never asked him to call her that, my Dad dragging her into this soft spot made her uncomfortable, her soft voice tryin’ to smooth the edges. “Jack, really, there’s no need—”

“Yes, there is!” Pa snapped. “That boy and his father always had a hard time seein’ straight when it comes to Briar Rose — and I love that girl dearly, I do — but she’s about as healthy for either of ’em as cuddlin’ a rattlesnake! Pretty on the outside, poison on the inside for men like us. Last thing ya need is repeatin’ their mistakes! Yer the type of mother ranch kids need, not that Bri with her head in them gilded clouds!”

“Pa, drop it, please.” I grumbled. He shot me a glare, shrugged then turned to Beau.

He leaned forward, eyes sharp. “So tell it straight: is she or ain’t she knocked up by ya?”

Beau swallowed. Hard. “I… I don’t know. Honest I don’t. She didn’t say nothin’. But I’m twenty‑four. I can handle a wife and kids.”

I’ll spare ya the speech every parent gives in this moment — and like every kid in this moment, Beau absorbed about as much as a wet sponge.

And now I’ll fast‑forward a few weeks to when we got the news and just tell ya:

Yeah. He knocked her up.

And that news came not long after Briony — his twin — called to tell me she was pregnant too.

Both my twins starin’ down the barrel of parenthood around the same damn time.

I knew I had to call Briar Rose cos Beau sure as heck wasn’t gon’ make that call, but I was comin’ up with every excuse under the sun to postpone it.

From Winding Down to Wound Up

One night, the whole Kershaw Ranch headed down to the local waterin’ hole. The place smelled like spilled beer, fried catfish, and old wood soaked in a hundred years of heartbreak. A live band twanged in the corner, fiddles and steel guitars cuttin’ through the chatter. Boots scuffed across the worn floorboards, and the air hummed with laughter, gossip, and the clink of bottles.

I sat with Pa, Cody, and my foreman, sippin’ cold ones while our girls danced under the string lights. Beau stood with the future mother of my grandson — yeah, we’d found out she was further along than we thought, and it was a boy.

I was laughin’ at somethin’ Cody said, beer halfway to my mouth, when I looked toward the door and damn near had a coronary.

There she was.

Briar Rose.

Honey‑blonde hair, heels clickin’, eyes sharp as diamonds. She scanned the room like a missile seekin’ a target — and found Beau, dancin’ with Della Rae.

She stormed across the floor like a Brindleton Bay hurricane.

I shot up, chair screechin’, but she was faster. She grabbed Beau by the collar mid‑step. Della Rae let out a startled little screech. Izzy muttered, “Oh shite!” in her Innisgreen lilt.

Beau — six‑foot‑something, strong as a bull — got dragged out like a schoolboy.

I caught up outside. Bri was layin’ into him, voice sharp enough to skin a deer.

When I stepped in to calm her, she turned that fire on me, and just like that we were right back in our old rhythm — me and Briar Rose, yellin’ like two barn cats fightin’ over the same sunny spot. Her eyes — that same pale seaglass green they’d always been — flashed up at me, sharp enough to cut. And I could feel my own damn blue eyes narrowing right back at her, like they always did when she got under my skin.
She jabbed a finger at my chest. “Don’t you start with me, Jackson Kershaw!”

“Oh, I’m already started,” I shot back. “You come stormin’ in here like the Queen of Brindleton Bay is takin’ over Chestnut Ridge, draggin’ our grown‑ass boy out by his collar like a toddler, and now you’re yellin’ at me? For what? Existing too loud? The hell are ya even doin’ here? Needed some square dancin’ to feel alive?”

She scoffed, honey‑blonde hair bouncing over her shoulders — still that same color it’d been when we were kids, and somehow she didn’t even have one damn wrinkle on her face even though she was in her forties now.

“Oh, you know exactly why I am here, cowboy — at least you should! But since you always had more brawn than brains, I’ll help you along! Briony called and mentioned what she thought I already knew. Guess what — I didn’t! I get why Beau wouldn’t call me, but that I had to find out from his sister, who texted him a million times just to get one answer and then it was THAT news? You are his goddamn father, and it was your responsibility to let me know! Why the hell didn’t you pick up the damn phone and call me, you idiot!? And don’t you even try to feed me that usual bullshit about no reception and out of minutes and shit! You don’t think I deserve to know when my son is becoming a father? I called you right away when I found out about Briony, but of course she already told you herself, as it should be, because I raised her right, more than I can say for what little social graces you instilled in our son! Is it really too much to ask for the same courtesy!? You are just the worst! Worst boyfriend, worst father… don’t even get me started on husband! I almost wanna start a GoFundMe for poor Amy! I don’t get what she still sees in you!”

“Well hell, Bri, if bein’ me is such a problem, maybe you should’ve stopped serial-marryin’ me and bein’ with me over and over again after we crashed for the umpteenth time, but no… NOOOO… you kept comin’ back to me again and again, dumpin’ your Prince Valium Hedgefund Doctor for me every single time! If I am such a waste of skin, why didcha? HUH!?”

Her eyes went wide — those pale green things goin’ sharp as glass. “Oh, you did NOT—”

“Oh, I sure as heck did,” I said, hands on my hips like a damn fool. “And I’ll say it again!”

We were nose‑to‑nose now, breathin’ fire, both of us too stubborn to back down.

“I was young and dumb back then,” she snapped. “But I grew up. And there is no way in heaven or hell I would ever — EVER — be with you ever again. You never grew up, you retarded imbecile!”

And if yer still wonderin’ why we could never make it work …

If you’re sittin’ there thinkin’, “But Jackson, y’all got chemistry, y’all said many times that you will always love each other, y’all got history, y’all got great kids together, why didn’t it work?”

Then I can’t help ya.

Somethin’ ain’t workin’ right in yer skull, makin’ yer brain run slower than Tupelo honey in the freezer.

Back Home on the Ranch

Anyway, what started as a fun night ended with all of us back at the ranch. Amy’s face was gloomy as she flicked on the lights and headed to the kitchen. The smell of fresh‑brewed coffee soon filled the air — Amy knew that was Bri’s coping mechanism, Cameron‑born and bred. They all drank coffee like medicine.

Della Rae leaned in, slow drawl syrup‑thick. “Who is that woman?”

Briar Rose spun like a whip, hair flyin’ like in a perfume ad. “Beau’s mother. The thrilled grandmother‑to‑be. That’s who I am.”

“MOM!” Beau yelped, sliding between them. “Be nice!”

“Don’t you ‘Mom’ me and I AM being nice!!! What the hell were you thinkin’!?”

“Did ya yell at Briony too?” Beau shot back, jaw tight. He was like me — didn’t back down, not even from his momma’s temper.

“Oh, I am sorry, are you married and well settled like she is?” Bri demanded, voice clipped, polished, sharp as a champagne flute.

Beau barked a humorless laugh. “Ah yeah, of course, momma — I shoulda known that’s all that matters to ya. Sorry I didn’t go marry a monarch and secure the family’s royal retirement plan like Briony did. My bad. Guess I really dropped the ball there.” He folded his arms, eyes blazing. “Always about money and status with you and Brad and Briony, ain’t it? Don’t that get old?”

“No,” Bri snapped, “money isn’t everything, but it is needed — especially when starting a family. Tell me, Beau, how exactly do you imagine raising a child with not two cents to rub together? I’m not sayin’ it to shame you, I’m sayin’ it because I’m scared for you. Babies need food, clothes, doctors, stability. And nobody out here in Chestnut Ridge has much of that to spare.”

She pressed a hand to her chest, breath tight. “Is the bold assumption here that Brad and I are just supposed to bankroll that? Because as far as I can tell, nothing has changed around here, and your father is already stretched to the max trying to feed his own kids — he won’t have money to feed yours too. And while you’re more than happy keeping me out of your life usually, and accusing me of being money‑centric, now suddenly I’m the fallback plan? Does that sound fair to you? Because it seems a little lopsided to me. Or do I get to play the ‘Beau is an adult’ card now and wave that in your face, because an adult should be able to finance his life.”

“No worries, I will figure it out myself, thank you very much. You and Brad can keep your damn money!” Beau snapped back.

Della Rae blinked, confused. “I’m sorry… who’s Brad? I know Briony is your sister, the one in Bellacorde. But I don’t remember any Brad.”

I swear I felt my soul leave my body. I was ready to tackle Briar Rose to the ground before she murdered the mother of my future grandchild in my own kitchen for daring not to know who oooh‑aaah‑Braddy was.

“My stepfather,” Beau said, voice icy. “The doctor. Heir to a medical empire. Go figure. My mom comes from big money and fame and married even bigger money on two legs. So did my sister. I’m sure it was real love… for the $.”

The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.

Briar Rose’s eyes narrowed — that sharp, glittering, celebrity‑bred kind of narrow that meant someone was about to get verbally filleted. Her shoulders squared, chin lifted, breath pulled in slow like she was choosing which artery to slice first.

But before she could lay into our son, Amy stepped in between them, and now we had a line forming. Amy shielding Beau, Beau shielding Della Rae. A whole human barricade in my kitchen, and I was stuck behind it like the idiot referee at a rodeo.

“Beau, that was very rude,” Amy said gently, laying a hand on his arm. Her voice was soft, but it carried — the kind of soft that could stop a stampede. “I am sure you didn’t mean it, but you need to apologize to your mother.”

“Don’t you tell my son what to do!” Bri snapped, turning on Amy like a storm changing direction mid‑sky. Her voice cracked like lightning, and every hair on my arms stood up.

And that was it. Every instinct in me roared awake.

Amy wasn’t just my wife — she was my peace, my anchor, the woman who steadied every wild part of me. She wasn’t my first love, but she was my last; I would never love another woman like that until I drew my final breath. Bri might’ve been my obsession, my kryptonite — still was in a way — the girl I’d loved since we were young, the one who could still twist my heart in ways I hated admitting… but if she came for Amy?

There wasn’t a universe, a timeline, or a version of me where I’d let that slide.

All my defenses went up — shoulders tight, jaw locked, blood pounding — and I was a half‑second from putting my ex‑wife out on the curb, but Beau was faster.

“Don’t snap at Amy!” Beau barked back, stepping in front of her, facing off with his own mother — whom, and I am sure I don’t have to say it but will anyway, he loves with every fiber.

And just like that, the whole room held its breath.

Amy’s hand stayed on Beau’s arm. Briar Rose’s eyes were locked on her like a hawk deciding which bone to break first. And I stood there, every muscle coiled, ready to step in the second Bri took one step too far.

Cody tried to sneak out the front door. Pa caught him by the collar like a misbehavin’ pup.

Then—

SLAP.

Izzy’s hand hit the table like a gunshot.

“Enough! I’ve just about had it with all of you eejits! I think I walked straight into an insane asylum, I do, watching all of you ramble nonsense thinking the louder one wins! I’m used to it from you lads, but we don’t need help from the uppity row, thank ya very much, Briar Rose,” she barked, Innisgreen lilt sharp as broken glass, immediately pointing at Bri whose mouth opened to speak. “Don’t even dream of sassin’ me, lass — not in front of me, and not when you’re the one who barged in here swingin’ like you’re queen of the whole damn county! This is my turf and I will put the fear of God into ya if ya try me on that!”

The words hit the room like a slammed door — that Innisgreen‑bred, Irish‑mam wrath that could stop a grown man mid‑sentence and make a whole pub go silent.

Bri froze.

Izzy swept her gaze across all of us. “We’re meant to be adults, so we are. Adults have children if they choose, and that’s the end of it. And don’t you be startin’ with me on sequences — you were knocked up before you married Jackson too, lass. How do I know? Because ya gave birth to Beau and Briony on your weddin’ night, so ya did!”

She jabbed a finger toward Briar Rose before the woman could even inhale. “Now then — you get to be upset nobody called ya, fair enough, but now ya know, so let’s all just move on. Until Beau comes straight to ya with his hand open askin’ for money, it isn’t your worry how he’s goin’ to bring up his child.”

Izzy’s voice softened only enough to make the next part sting more. “But if you’re that worried about it, maybe when you realize that baby is your grandchild too, then send him money unasked — like we mothers do! He is an adult, yes he is, but he’ll always be your child. I’m a mother meself, and my son is sweet but an eejit, and still Jack and I love him and will never not be there for him. And more than once have I lined his pockets with some cash when I thought he might need it.”

She folded her arms, chin lifting with that unmistakable Irish finality. “Assume that goes for you too, as I know you love him and he you. So — let’s all settle our tempers and move on, shall we?”

Bri’s jaw dropped.

Silence.

Then my phone rang.

I pulled it from the back pocket of my good jeans, looked at the caller ID and groaned. Answered.

“Yeah? Yup, she’s here. Hang on…”

I handed it to Bri. “Yer husband for ya.”

She shot me a look that could curdle milk, then answered sweet as sugar.

“Hey Braddy! Yes… yes, baby, I know what I promised but he is my son … uh huh … yes, I’ll come home… yes, I’ll drive safe… I love you too. Muah.” she blew kisses into my cell phone making me taste dinner a second time.

I resisted the urge to sanitize my phone when she handed it back to me.

She hugged Beau, kissed his cheek like he was five. “I love you, sweetie. We’ll be back soon. And remember — you have family in San Sequoia. I have to go now.” she glared at the rest of us and completely ignored Della Rae. I can tell ya why. The Kershaws had an ancient feud with the McCoys and honestly, by now, nobody really even knew what that was about or when and why that ever started. But Briar Rose hated them more than all of us Kershaws combined, because one of theirs, Taylor, used to be my girlfriend before, and several times after Bri. And back when I was young, dumb and full of … well … let’s just say passion and myself, I used that to get back at Bri when she chose her wealthy uppity life over me, long before I ever understood she and I weren’t meant to be. That took more than twenty years for us to sink in.
Either way, the worst thing Beau could have done to his momma was pick a McCoy to marry.
Sigh.

“Yeah. I’ll visit soon.” Beau said weakly as his mother walked out the door.

He wouldn’t.
None of us saw her side of the family.

Not until the weddin’.

Yeah, spoiler alert. My boy was gettin’ married.

Two Weddings and (Almost) A Funeral

The little white country chapel was packed so tight it felt like the walls were holdin’ their breath. Sunlight streamed through the stained glass, painting the aisle in warm colors that danced over the mason jars of wildflowers Amy and Izzy had arranged earlier that morning. The place smelled like polished pine, old hymnals, and the faint sweetness of honeysuckle drifting in from the open windows.

Della Rae stood at the front, hands trembling around her bouquet, her bump unmistakable beneath the soft lace of her dress.
Beau stood beside her, jaw still bruised from Lance’s punch, but his eyes never left her.
He looked steady, grounded, like he’d walk through fire for her if she asked.

And Lance? He was three pews back, stiff as a fencepost, arms crossed so tight his knuckles were white. His wife beside him, whispering frantic little reminders to behave, while their toddler sat on her lap, pointing at Beau every few seconds and asking far too loudly things along the lines of, “Mama, dat da shithayed?”.

Lance didn’t correct him. He didn’t blink. He just stared at Beau like he was waitin’ on the minister to pause long enough for him to stand up and object. And Lord knows, if his sister weren’t pregnant, he damn sure would’ve.

But now? Now he wanted this weddin’. How’d I know? I saw the shotgun sittin’ in the rack of his truck when he and his folks pulled up earlier. He meant it, too. If Beau so much as twitched like he might back out, Lance would march right back to that truck and return with a very persuasive argument cocked and loaded.

Ya see, while it is possible, like Tansy been doing with Cody, we ain’t that modern yet. If the father of yer kid ain’t dead or in prison, we expect the mother to get married to him ASAP. Jus’ the way it is ’round here, don’t give me the speech, I heard it a million times from my ex-wife’s side of the family, but their city slicker opinions don’t change facts out here.

Briar Rose’s family filled the front pews on the bride’s side, a colorful mix of Brindleton Bay coastal elegance and San Sequoia artistic chaos.

Her retired grunge‑rock parents Chase and Hailey and their bandmates Colton and Maddie sat shoulder to shoulder in tailored black, silver hair gleaming under the chapel lights, tattoos peeking out from their cuffs. Briar Rose’s doctor brother Connor and his gallerist/painter wife Keira’s medical family bunch, his son Chris and his wife Cadence sat upright and observant, not judgmental, just quietly taking everything in like they were cataloging the moment.

Bri’s attorney sister Iris plus actor husband Jasper and their son Tate were in from Del Sol Valley, city of music, movies, big dreams and bigger tears were loud, confident, and city‑raised, leaning into each other with amused smirks every time Lance muttered under his breath.

The Kershaws filled the opposite side, boots and hats and floral dresses, denim and Sunday shirts, a whole different flavor of circus. Cody and Tansy were whisper‑arguing behind me, their toddler kicking the pew in a steady rhythm. Izzy kept shushing them, but it was like trying to quiet a pair of raccoons in a full trash can. Finally, Izzy’s patience ran out and she grabbed Katie from Tansy’s lap planting her on her own, nipping every attempt of toddler misbehaving in the bud.

The minister cleared his throat, opened his book, and the ceremony began.
It was simple and sweet, the kind of wedding that felt like it belonged to the land itself.
Vows spoken soft.
Hands held tight.
Amy sniffled into a handkerchief.
Lance muttered something that sounded like a prayer or a curse.
Chase and Hailey wiped their eyes when Beau promised to love Della Rae with everything he had for as long as they both shall live. Proud grandparents for sure — the kind who’d lived loud, wild lives onstage and somehow still ended up soft as butter when it came to their grandbabies.

They were gettin’ up there in age now, both in their eighties, the last surviving titans of that old grunge scene. Seeing them sitting there — Hailey with her silver hair still in that boho braid she wore on album covers, Chase tapping out rhythms on his knee like muscle memory — it hit me how lucky we all were. Lucky they were still here. Lucky they got to see three of their grandkids married. Lucky they’d get to meet more great‑grandbabies yet, fingers crossed.

Briar Rose’s sister Iris had a daughter married already, with a little one of her own, and Chase and Hailey had been at that wedding too — front row, crying, cheering, dancing like their bones weren’t older than half the county. They’d already met that great‑grandchild. More than most folks their age could say.

They deserved it. Good people, all of them.

Just because their daughter and I didn’t work out didn’t change a damn thing about how I felt toward that family. I had nothing but love and respect for every one of them. Especially Connor. He helped my dad and me so much over the years, I could never pay all that back — not in ten lifetimes.

When the minister finally said, “You may kiss the bride,” the whole chapel exhaled.

Beau kissed her gently, reverently, and the crowd clapped—some polite, some rowdy, some relieved.
The minister closed his book.

Beau and Della Rae just finishing staring at each other and were heading up the aisle, first people in the pews they already passed like ours were raisin’ up, like Savannah and Laney.

And that’s when Tansy stood up.

Stepped right there in the aisle, hands on her hips, belly round and proud, chin lifted like she was about to announce the winner of a county fair contest.

“Hang on jus’ a minute all y’all,” she drawled, and every head in the chapel turned including the newlyweds who were almost to the door.

Cody froze beside her, eyes wide, like he’d just realized he was standing in front of a moving train.

“I’m gon’ do it,” she declared. “I am done tellin’ my man no and am sayin’ yes, so Cody if not now then when, all yer family is in town already, we’re all dressed up. I say let’s do it. If ya still wanna marry me, here’s yer chance. So … do ya?”

Cody jumped up and let out a ‘Yee-haw’ that echoed off the chapel walls. “Hell yeah! I mean, sorry minister … I mean yeah I will. Come on woman, let’s go!” he grabbed Tansy’s hand and they nearly ran to the altar.

A ripple of laughter and surprise moved through the pews.

The minister looked like he wanted to lie down on the floor and disappear, but he straightened his tie anyway. He was from a few towns over, our minister had died couple years back and nobody new been found.

“So sit y’all back down and watch us do it,” Tansy called out waving her hand like she was shooing chickens.

Then she pointed at Cody. “We’ll be quick about it. Oh—and in case I hadn’t told all y’all: my baby girl and I are stayin’ Wheelers, cos it’s the Wheeler ranch I kept goin’ almost by myself since I was sixteen, and that little boy inside me, we’re gon’ name him Colt, by the way, he is gon’ continue the name. So Cody will be a Wheeler from now on.”

Every head in the chapel turned to Jack.
He blinked once.
Shrugged.
“I don’t give a hoot, got enough Kershaws runnin’ about and incomin’. Quit lookin’ at me and watch the damn weddin’, will ya?! Let’s move it along, I am damn hungry!”

The minister sighed, opened his book again, and married Cody and Tansy right there in the chapel while Lance glowered, Bri’s relatives whispered excitedly, and half the town tried not to laugh out loud.

Only after both ceremonies were done did everyone spill out into the sunlight and walk to the party barn next door.

The barn was already alive with music and the smell of barbecue. String lights hung from the rafters, tables were covered in mismatched tablecloths, and the whole town had brought food—casseroles, pies, fried chicken, smoked brisket, cornbread, everything you could imagine. Kids ran wild between the tables, adults laughed and hugged and hollered greetings, and the band tuned their fiddles in the corner.

Jack loaded up his plate like he been starvin’, Izzy taking things off his plate and I saw them argue about cholesterol, he lost, now they were sitting at a table with the toddlers of the family, nodding along to the music like this was just another Saturday.
Briar Rose’s family blended in surprisingly well.

Cody and Tansy were fighting and flirting and pregnant again, because of course they were. One minute she was poking him in the chest, the next she was kissing him like she’d die without him. Their toddler toddled between their legs, sticky with juice and joy.

Lance stood near the wall, arms crossed, eyes glued to Beau like he was waiting for him to slip up. His wife kept whispering at him to behave and eventually picked up their toddler and stuck him in his father’s arms, probably same reason Amy did that kinda thing to me, to keep us from fightin’ as our women knew damn well we would never when a little one could get hurt.

The band struck up, fiddles and guitars filling the barn with music. People danced, laughed, ate, and hollered. The whole place buzzed with life.

The party barn was loud enough to shake the rafters, the fiddle and steel guitar weaving through the air like wildfire. The place smelled like smoked brisket, spilled beer, sweet hay, and the warm sugar of someone’s peach cobbler cooling on a table. Lanterns swung overhead, creaking softly with every stomp of boots on the wooden floorboards. Folks from Chestnut Ridge were hollerin’, laughin’, clappin’, and already half‑drunk on celebration.

Amy found me through the crowd, her cheeks flushed from dancing, her hair smelling like her rose‑vanilla shampoo. She kissed me quick on the cheek and pressed a cold beer into my hand — bless that woman — and for a moment we just stood there together, shoulder to shoulder, letting the noise and the joy and the chaos wash over us.

Then Briar Rose and Brad drifted over, weaving through the crowd like they were used to navigating big family gatherings — which, coming from Brindleton Bay and San Sequoia, they were. I braced for the worst, expecting sharp words or clipped tones, but Bri was emotional, soft around the edges, her eyes glossy. It was almost pleasant. Brad had that calm doctor‑energy about him, steady and polite, nodding to folks who waved at him even though he didn’t know a soul here.

Amy liked him — she’s asked me a million times why I didn’t, especially if I meant it when I said I didn’t care about Bri anymore as anything more than the mother of two of my kids. And I did mean it. But I just didn’t like Brad, and I never would.

It flat out ground my gears so fierce that my sweet Briony loved that man like a second father. I hated that so much I didn’t have enough words to express how much.

Beau’s twin sister Briony and her husband had come earlier, slipping into the chapel incognito, sitting in the back pew with their heads down. They’d left not long after the vows, after a brief hello and goodbye and a hug I didn’t want to let her go from. Her pregnancy giving her trouble and she had been placed on strict bedrest, but even so, she’d insisted on coming and that husband of hers just couldn’t tell her no any more than I could tell Amy no if she really wanted somethin’ badly enough. Briony wanted to see her brother get married, even if she had to sneak in and out like a celebrity avoiding cameras. The security detail trying to blend into the shadows wasn’t fooling anyone with at least one working eye, but they kept their distance. We only got to hug her briefly, but she’d been glowing, proud, and exhausted all at once.

I was takin’ a long pull from my beer, letting the cold settle in my chest, when I saw her.

Savannah.

My sweet fifteen‑year‑old girl.

Leaning against the barn wall under some snot‑nosed teen boy who had one arm braced above her head like he thought he was in a movie. He was bent over her, talkin’ low, flirtin’ up a storm, thinkin’ he was Chestnut Ridge’s answer to Don Juan. The lantern light caught the dust motes around them, makin’ the whole scene look like trouble wrapped in gold.

And Savannah — my Savannah — looked awfully thrilled with him. Her eyes were bright, her smile too wide, her whole posture too relaxed for my comfort.

Was my baby flirtin’?! Oh HELL NO.

“Savannah!” I hollered, my voice cutting through the music and chatter like a whipcrack.

I paced over there, boots thudding on the barn floor, and yanked her out by the arm. The boy straightened up fast, puffing himself up like he thought he could take me.

He dared to open his mouth.

I shut him down before he got a full syllable out, telling him I was her daddy and already in a strange mood, and unless he wanted to spend the rest of the night picking hay splinters out of his backside and his teeth off the floor, he’d best walk away or I’d kick his ass all the way back home to his own daddy’s ranch.

He walked.

Savannah complained immediately, her mouth flappin’, hands waving, acting like I’d ruined the greatest romance of her life.

I didn’t bother arguing.

I grabbed a handful of hush puppies off someone’s plate as we passed and stuffed ‘one ’em straight into her mouth, the hot cornmeal smell puffing up between us. Grease and pepper hit the air, mixing with the sweetness of spilled lemonade and the smoky tang of brisket drifting from the buffet tables. The barn lights hummed overhead, warm and golden, catching the dust motes swirling around her like she was standin’ in her own little storm cloud of teenage nonsense.

And as she glared at me over that mouthful of hush puppies, cheeks flushed, hair curled just so — the way Amy had shown her — I couldn’t help thinkin’ how I liked her better when she was all slow drawl, hot temper, and tomboy. Back when she’d stomp around the ranch in muddy boots, braid crooked, face smudged with dust, hollerin’ at horses and chasin’ chickens and you couldn’t say for sure if she was a boy or a girl. Before she hit thirteen and suddenly wanted skirts and dresses and city shopping trips with Amy, askin’ how to wear her hair and what colors made her eyes look “bluer than the Chestnut Ridge skies, Daddy.”

I let Amy do all that, until they came home with a tube of lip gloss and mascara.

Absolutely not.

Nope.

Nope, nope, nope, NOPE.

And now ya see why. I got four minor daughters to raise. Four. I know how them country boys are, ’cause I once was one of ’em. I know exactly what they’re thinkin’, and they ain’t doin’ none of that with any of my girls.

Oh holy hell… Why did I have so many daughters!?

Promotions

Well, at least Cody and Tansy were married now before they had their boy, like a week or two after. Named him Colt. And my brother really did it. Got his new license comin’ and all, with his new name on it. Cody Dean Wheeler.

Well. As for life at the Kershaw Ranch, it was startin’ to feel normal again. Months had passed since the double weddin’ and suddenly I was a grandpa. And my Daddy was a great-grandpa. I’ll be damned, that I saw that day.

I stared down the shirt Briony had send me, reading “Promoted to Grandpa — By Royal Decree” along with the first photos of my first granddaughter, Aurelie Sophie Rose Beaumont, the future Sovereign Princess of Bellacorde.

Just thinkin’ that felt and sounded wrong but was true.

Notice I said first granddaughter not first grandkid?

Yeah, my boy and his new wife had been expectin’ a boy and much like my kids, he don’t care much about timin’ or maybe like my twins he was competitive as all get out, cos he came when he damn well pleased to, beating Briony and Luc’s daughter by three whole weeks.

Came out fine, though, born in a stable like baby Jesus, luckily Briar Rose’s uncle Connor, the doctor, had just picked that very day to come by and check in on us, on his way back from Del Sol Valley when it happened. He was surprised how fast and smooth the birth was, but insisted all of them would come with him to his medical center in San Sequoia, where he ran his tests and recorded what needed to be, all of it takin’ me back to back when Bri and I got married in the same chapel and had decided to spent the weddin’ night campin’ out in the prairie. My idea and she loved it then, city girl who wanted to come live with me to make me happy and I wanted her to sleep under the wide open skies with me hopin’ she’ll catch the same bug we all have and why we can’t live in the tight spaces of the city.

Instead she ended up havin’ the twins early, and I had to deliver them with a pocket knife heated over the fire and a prayed. They were small but just like Beau’s son now, they were strong and healthy.

Still felt surreal, and I was already emotional thinking I was a grandpa twice over now, didn’t feel that damn old to be one, but what did me in was when my son and his wife announced the name of their baby boy.

Clayton Jack Kershaw.

Clayton is my middle name, but before me it was the man who raised me from birth, whom I thought was my father until I found out his brother Jack was when I was fourteen and he yanked me out of the system after my momma had died of the broken heart Clayton’s self-inflicted death had caused her. I didn’t understand any of it until Jack put the pieces together for me. He and my momma, Savannah Rae, yeah, I named my daughter after her, were high school sweethearts, but Jack was restless and didn’t want to be tied down. He was scared of a wedding ring like cattle of the slaughter trailer.

Mom always wanted to settle down, have a big family and loved my daddy’s ranch, same one I am runnin’ now. Jack eventually just left. She was heartbroken, Jack’s older brother had always loved her and came to dry her tears. They ended up married.

Ranchin’ was hard, even then, money ran out quick, so Clayton took any job he could, eventually landing one that made all their money problems shrink fast, working on oil rigs, but those were far and he was only home four days out of the month.

Jack came back in town, and Clayton himself asked him to stay with Savannah to help out and protect her, not knowing he was delivering the sparrow to the cat.

Savannah was a beautiful woman, everyone called her the rose of Chestnut Ridge, and she was lonely. You can guess how I came about now. It wasn’t maliciousness, it was true love and longing.

Anyway, somehow my daddy Clayton found out when I was around six or seven years old, cos suddenly they started arguin’ a lot, I didn’t understand why. That man loved me, as did my momma so they made sure I didn’t hear nothin’. I didn’t hear the words, just the fightin’. I thought parents fight sometimes, didn’t like it, but what was I to do. I just hoped they worked it out.
Until that day I came home from school and the Sheriff was at the ranch. My daddy couldn’t take it no more and had taken his own life.

Momma made it almost two years, but even as a lil boy I knew she was drinkin’ too much. I never knew what happened to her, guessing her liver gave out or her heart, all I know is I came home from school again and CPS took me away. My best friend Chayton Graywolf’s daddy Ahanu looked after the ranch for us, until I’d be old enough to get it back or until they could finally find my dad’s brother Jack.

Took many years and him comin’ back on his own when he finally heard about his nephew. Jack always knew I was his son as my momma had told him, which made him go away and stay gone, not wantin’ to be found. Somethin’ happened to him and made him grow a conscience, so he came back to check on me, only to find his brother and my mom had been dead for years.
Connor helped him find me and get me out.

And then there I was, fourteen years old, back home on the ranch where I was born and raised, with a stranger who was my father, and everything I thought I had known about my life had been wrong. But we made it through and grew close.

But I would never forget the man who raised me first, Clayton was a decent and upstanding man, tough like the land, but such a warm father. Everythin’ I did and still do as a father is modeled after him and how he done it for me.

My momma was the best mother a boy like me could ever ask for.
Bri used to remind me of her so much, even looked a lot alike those two.

Amy reminds me of my late momma too, in a way, but it’s more the way she is, not the way she looks. She has the same warmth and love for children, and for me. That woman is more than I deserve and I know it. I thank God for every day He keeps her from realizin’ it too and leavin’ me for somethin’ better.

But deep down, in that quiet place inside a man where the truth sits heavy and still, I know she ain’t never leavin’ me. We are each other’s forever. Finally.

Both of us had to ride a mean rollercoaster to find each other — the kind that rattles your bones and throws your heart around, the kind that makes you think you’re gonna fly off the rails before you ever get to the part where the view opens up and the world looks soft again.

Sometimes I look at her across the kitchen, sunlight catchin’ in her blonde hair, or hear her laugh floatin’ through the house like somethin’ warm and familiar, and I swear I can feel my momma’s spirit noddin’ somewhere. Like she’s sayin’, You did good, son. You found someone who loves you the way I did.

Amy’s got that same gentle steadiness, that same way of touchin’ your cheek like she’s checkin’ if you’re real. She’s got that same fierce protectiveness too — the kind that makes a woman stand between her family and the world without thinkin’ twice.

And Lord knows, after everything we both been through, after all the wrong turns and heartbreaks and lonely nights, we earned this peace. We earned each other.

Sometimes I still catch myself watchin’ her like a man who can’t believe his luck — the way she moves through our home, the way she talks to the kids, the way this former city girl learned horse ranching and cookin’ like it was nothin’, and lemme tell ya, I’d put her up against any of them women in town who grew up like all this, and I love most the way she looks at me like I’m worth somethin’. Like I’m hers.

And every time, I feel that same quiet gratitude settle in my chest.

I ain’t a perfect man.
But she’s my perfect woman.
And somehow, by some miracle, we fit.

Two souls who took the long way home. Two hearts that finally stopped runnin’. Two people who found forever in the middle of Chestnut Ridge, dust and all.

And now I was holding the next generation honoring both men who raised me into the man I am today.