Something Wilder

Tonight was special, though. They would transition to beer at some point—all signs pointed to debauchery ahead—but for a reunion like this, bubbles were called for. Walter had flown in from New York that morning; Nic had driven over from… well, next door. Last week she’d closed the deal on the fifty acres of sagebrush and riverbank adjoining Wilder Ranch.

“To Nicole being a landowner,” Lily said, refilling their glasses for a proper toast.

Clink.

“To Leo and Lily reopening Wilder Ranch,” Walt added.

“Next summer,” Leo quickly clarified, his voice a little tight under the awareness of everything that still had to be done. Buy horses, train them, outfit the lodge and cabins for guests, hire staff. And, of course, take a couple of trips overseas.

It was the compromise they’d made with her dead father: at least two months every year spent making her world bigger.

Clink.

Leo’s smile softened, and that thing that had been knotted inside Lily as long as her earliest memory seemed to loosen a tiny bit more. I love you, his expression said. I’m not ever going to leave you. Maybe by the time next summer rolled around, it would sink in that this was real and that anxious knot inside her would be a loose rope, or even better still, a skein of cashmere, a soft strand of silk.

“Are you going to let us see that letter?” Walt asked, and at her nod, Leo stood, disappearing into the office and returning with the folded yellowed sheet.

Walter took the paper from him. “How many times have you read it?”

“Probably a thousand.” Lily chewed her lip for a beat before adding, “It’s going to take some time for it all to feel real.”

“I bet.” She watched Walter read, feeling like she knew the contents well enough to track the words as his eyes moved across the page.

Dear Lily,

If you’re reading this, it means we’ve finished the trip and you’re about to open a box with your future inside. I hope you enjoyed this adventure. It’s taken me a few years to get this right, and now that you’re reading it, I hope we can say that we had the time of our lives.

But knowing how much you grew to hate my riddles and seeing as how I’m probably standing right behind you as you read this, I also hope you don’t turn around and wallop me for making you do it. This old dog loves his familiar tricks, and I can’t tell you how proud I am that we did this together.

I think this is the first time I’ve left you a note you didn’t have to decode. Ha! Even I don’t want to spend that much time translating something. Besides, if you’ve found this, you’ve earned the right to an easy read. (And even if I could say all this in person, you know I’m not very good at it.)

Do you remember when you were little, I used to call you Grasshopper? You would hop from spot to spot in the front yard, swearing that you had to land on a stick or you’d melt into the lava. Back then you liked the treasure hunting, too. You were my little sidekick.

I think you stopped liking all that stuff when your mom left. I get it. Maybe it would have happened anyway as you got older, but I imagine her leaving had a lot to do with why you started hating what I love. You always loved horses, but once upon a time you loved hiking and treasure hunting, too. I wanted you to get back into it, but I get why you didn’t. It took your mom away from us, and it took me away from you, too. I couldn’t ever resist it, though, and I know you have something you love just as much, so I hope someday you’ll understand.

I found most of this money about a month after your mom left. You were at the ranch with your uncle Dan. I didn’t have a plan. I wandered in places I’d never been before. I even got lost once or twice. I made my way into that final cave, and there it was, all this cash, all these old coins, packed up in about fifteen dusty wooden crates. Honest to God. The first time in my life I went out into the desert without a thirst for treasure was when I found the one thing I’d been searching for my whole life.

It took me a few weeks to get it all out of there, and then I didn’t know what to do with it. Part of me thought, “This is when Lily and I start a new life of our own choosing,” but even by then, I think we would have chosen different things. I would have wanted to keep searching the land for something to surprise me. You would have wanted to stay put with your horses.