Ma gestured at Dahlia. “Look at her. See that smile on her face. You’re the reason for it. Take that as the universe pointing you in a new direction. A good direction. One that will make you feel proud.”
Yeah, Nash saw the happiness on Dahlia’s face. That happiness came from a feeling of winning. Nash felt a little of that for himself now too. The feeling was far different from what he had felt on the back of a bull. Not as much of a rush, but still a good feeling.
Very good, in fact.
“You’ve got a talent with calming horses and getting their minds right,” Ma added with a sweet smile. “Look what you’ve done with Bentley. We all know that working the guest ranch won’t be enough for you. Why don’t you handle the rebuild of the barn with Chase, then open a training facility here?”
Nash snorted, placing his boot on the fence. “Blackshaw Cattle Company, Blackshaw Survival, Blackshaw Construction, and now Blackshaw Training. Don’t you think the people in town are going to get sick of us?”
“Of course they won’t.” Ma patted his cheek. “You’ve got a talent. See that for what it is. And make a new dream happen. For you. For Megan. And for the baby.”
Warmth touched parts of his heart he hadn’t known were cold. “It’s an idea to consider.” He was good with horses, seemingly understanding them in ways others did not. Maybe his mother was onto something.
Ma gave a slow nod then cocked her head. “I don’t have to worry about you making this right with Clint.”
It wasn’t a question but a statement. One he agreed with. “Yeah, everything will be fine.” Time smoothed things over. Clint needed to cool off. Then they’d talk again, but there wasn’t a hope in hell he’d bow down to Clint. Ever.
She began to frown. “I think—”
A red truck came driving up the driveaway and cut her off. RIVER ROCK FIRE MARSHAL was written on the side. When the truck came to a stop, the fire marshal, Marty, exited. He was a tall man with a thick physique and an even thicker moustache.
Nash slipped through the fence and greeted him with a handshake. “I take it you have an update?”
Marty took off his cowboy hat and tucked it under his arm. “I do, and I’m afraid it’s not good news.”
Ma stepped closer, wrapping her arm in Nash’s. “No better time than now to lay it on us.”
Marty’s intense brown eyes caught Nash’s and held. “Our findings confirm the barn fire was purposely set,” he reported. “Those explosions you heard, they were gasoline cans to fuel the fire.”
“I knew it,” Nash muttered, his teeth clenching. “Any idea who did it?”
Marty slowly shook his head. “We couldn’t find any concrete evidence. Everything was too burned to fingerprint the cans. But if you ask me, considering you never saw anyone strange coming and going, you likely know—and trust—the person responsible.”
Nash shut his eyes and cursed beneath his breath.
When he reopened them, Ma had tears in her eyes. “Who would do this to us?” she cried.
Nash hated where his mind took him.
* * *
Late into the afternoon, Megan sat cross-legged on a bench at River Rock’s park. The bench had a plate on it that read GENEROUSLY DONATED BY GEORGE BOUCHARD. HE SAT HERE EVERY DAY AND HE LOVED OUR TOWN. George was a local who had left what little money he had at his death to build a new playground for the children of his beloved town.
Off in the distance, the Rocky Mountains and their snowy peaks stood high. Megan had spent most of the day walking after she’d stuffed herself with Harper’s sundae and she was grateful to rest at the park for a while.
Straight ahead, children played on the playground with their moms close by. In the sandbox, the children laug
hed. A dad chased his son around, pretending to be a monster. It was perfect. A kind of perfect she hadn’t really known before. She wasn’t exactly sure what had led her there, but she stared at the little kids running around. All the smiles and laughter.
This would soon be her life. It was so different than her late nights at the Spurs, making her realize that she would have to hire someone to close at night. She wanted to be home for her child to put him or her to bed. Always.
“Megan.”
Surprised by the voice, she glanced sideways, discovering her father standing there, hands stuffed into his pockets. It should not have been a surprise he found her. She imagined Mom had threatened not to feed him if he didn’t go and find her and make sure she was okay. Still . . . “How did you know where to find me?” she asked.
He glanced over his shoulder and waved at the woman on the bench under the big shade tree. Not just any woman. Mom’s good friend Helen. She smiled and waved at Megan. When Dad turned back, he said, “Helen called your mom and was gossiping and said you looked pregnant.”
“Well, I am pregnant.” Megan glanced down. She didn’t think she was obviously showing, but maybe her strappy flowery dress had hit the wind at the right angle. Nah, one look down and her boobs were practically spilling out of her dress.