Page 62 of The Cowboy Who Stayed

“With all due respect, Buck, what goes on between me and Dr. Murphy is none of your business. We are dating—a committed relationship—and I care about her a lot. But out of respect for Dr. Murphy, that’s as much as you need to know. I’d appreciate it if neither of you passed judgment.”

The two older men exchange a glance that equates to an entire silent conversation between them. They seem to draw the same conclusion.

Andy nods slowly, his thick mustache bristling as he cracks a slight smile.

“I’ve seen a lot of men come through Silver Creek,” he says. “Most of them show up lost and leave a little less so. Every now and then, one of them finds something worth sticking around for. Don’t screw it up, Dawson.”

“And don’t punch anybody else in town,” Buck adds.

“I’ll do my best on both counts.”

I turn on my heel and leave the two to their meeting.

I’m relieved the situation’s settled. Andy and Buck are aware, and I’ve said all that I intended to say.

Everybody’s on the same page.

I round the bend, the acres opening up as far as the eye can see. This many weeks into fall, the grass resembles straw with the way it’s yellowed. It doesn’t stop the cattle from grazing away as ranch hands keep them herded.

Today it’s a little grayer than usual out. The sun’s hiding, and the wind’s picked up.

Both Ricky and Jeb look up as I approach.

“Well, well, well,” Ricky calls. “If it isn’t Ironhaven’s most eligible bachelor. Oh wait, not anymore. Dawson’s been wifed up.”

Jeb tips his hat back and grins. “Gotta give credit where it’s due. Man’s pulling more ladies than Estrada, and he’s not even trying.”

“Whoa, whoa.” Joaquin holds out a hand in protest. “Let’s not get carried away. Dawson landed one woman. I’m keeping my options open. It’s called being strategic.”

“Strategically single,” Ricky says. “That’s a fancy way of saying no one’ll have you, brother.”

The whole group laughs, Joaquin included. The sound carries across the open pasture, adding to the laidback vibe in the air.

As I laugh with them, I realize how much I’ve missed simple moments like this. The past couple weeks have been intense, but things are looking up.

Me and Vivica are together, and things are alright at the ranch. Even my spine hasn’t been acting up as much as usual.

We get back to work, and the jokes taper off for the steady rhythm of ranch labor.

Time goes by and soon the atmosphere is full of low calls to the cattle and the thud of hooves on packed earth.

It’s honest work, and my sensitive back still reminds me of that fact the instant I try to push myself.

Joaquin comes up beside me as we guide the last heifers through the gate.

“Hey, Dawson.”

“Estrada.”

He extends his hand and I take it, the handshake firm but unhurried. His expression’s been stripped of its usual humor, replaced by appreciation.

“Meant to tell you earlier, but congrats, man,” he says. “I mean it. She’s a good one.”

Coming from a guy who lost his own marriage when his world fell apart, the words carry some weight.

We’ve known each other for many years, and Joaquin knows how serious it is if I’m in a relationship with Vivica.

“Thanks, brother,” I say. “I appreciate that.”