Sadie’s like them, I muse to myself as I watch her sway easily in Cookie’s saddle. I hope she blooms here for a long, long time. I hope they both do. But my place is elsewhere—and so, I must go home.
Epilogue: Sadie
One year later...
“It was my idea that saved the ranch, you know.”
I am complaining. Dakota won’t let me ride anymore, not since the welcome news that I’m expecting our first child. Instead, I have been relegated to tending Beau’s abandoned garden. This is mostly my own fault—I wanted organic vegetables for my pregnancy. Unfortunately, morning sickness makes even the most lovingly grown vegetable intolerable.
Maybe you can feed growing fetuses just by touching vegetables. I hope so, because I sure can’t keep them down. All I want to eat is popcorn and lemon sorbet, which, no, aren’t healthy for the baby or for me. I hope this passes soon or it’ll be an only child.
“True. But ideas don’t require riding.” Dakota kisses me. “Don’t worry. As soon as you’re healed, we’ll get you back on Cookie.”
The gentle mare has become my favorite mount, although sometimes I share her with unsure, wary riders. The thought of not riding for the next seven months is a blow. One I will manage, but it’s a disappointment nonetheless.
One worth enduring, though. My reservations about motherhood have abated now that I feel confident of being able to provide for a child. I’ll never do to him or her what my mother did to me. Even if I were to go down that road, the Wilsons wouldn’t let one of their own get lost in the foster care system.
“When is the next wedding party?” I ask, even though I know the answer.
“Friday afternoon. We have eight people coming—the groom, his mother, his best friend, plus the bride and her parents, her sister, and sister’s husband. They’re using the chapel and the cottage, so we need to make sure those are tip-top.”
This was my contribution to The Black Diamond’s survival. One day, I wandered into the unused miniature chapel by mistake. I stood there, awed by the light streaming in through the stained-glass windows, and called to Dakota, “What’s this place?”
“The chapel?” he asked, then lifted one shoulder and let it fall. “It came with the house. It’s pretty, but small. I was thinking I’d turn it into an office at some point.”
I shook my head. “I have a better idea. We’re going to host weddings.”
As the pandemic ground on for months, many people were forced to cancel wedding plans. The Black Diamond Ranch’s natural beauty, with mountains in the background and colorful scenery, made the perfect setting to tie the knot. We provide small, socially distant gatherings for people who live within the state. We partner with officiants of different faith traditions who lead the ceremonies virtually. The Hinsons’ son set up a web service with a private video link so that anyone can watch.
We devised a plan and did a few advertisements. The offer was so popular that the system crashed. Black Diamond Weddings were booked for months to come, and the revenue was more than enough to let Dakota focus on his passion projects.
We’ve had all kinds of people celebrate their unions since the pandemic shut down most such celebrations. It’s been a beacon of hope during a prolonged period of mass deaths, widespread unemployment and broken dreams. It can’t be the big wedding of people’s dreams, but as long as they can keep the party to fifteen or fewer people, we have been able to help brides and grooms celebrate without waiting a year for their special day.
But with the newly available vaccines, this should be one of the last small wedding parties.
Last week, everyone at the ranch got their shots. Very soon, we’ll be able to expand operations to our hearts’ content.
I pass the watering can over a raised bed of lettuce before saying, “We should revisit building a new structure.”
“Money,” Dakota shrugs. He doesn’t mind spending it, but the wedding business is my work. The hospitality aspect was always his secondary concern, and he’s happy to let me run most of it while he runs the youth-oriented riding camps. He’s more invested in those, both literally and emotionally.
We’ll work it out. We always do.
“Have you heard from Beau?” I ask casually.
“He says he’ll come.” Dakota moves to me. He takes the watering can and sets it down. His arms fold around me, protective. “But we’re not sharing anymore.”
“I know.” That wild night was everything I needed, but I am not eager to repeat the performance. I’m in a different headspace now. I know I am loved. My place is here, and it always will be.
That’s why the last small wedding we’re hosting will be our own.
Dakota’s mother, sisters and brother will drive down from Chicago for the event. I’ve never met them in person, but I already feel like part of the family thanks to many Zoom calls and long conversations over the past several months. After all, as much as I love Dakota, being with one person for so many months is a test of any relationship. The rest of the Wilsons have been welcoming and wonderful.
I have a real family, at last.
My struggles are no longer mine alone to contend with. I have people to help me get through—just as I work my ass off to support them. It feels good to be rooted in the world instead of floating through life untethered to anyone or anything.
And at the center of my world is the man in my arms. Dakota, whose dreams brought him to my arid state and made him fall in love with both the rugged landscape and the woman who inhabits it. Together, we will make our
