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“Lord, what am I doin’ here?” He looked at the blue sky. The gloriously emerald trees. The pale blue roof tiles on the immaculate house. “What should I be doing? Why do I feel so lost?”

He’d only been home for a little over two months, but he felt like he should be further along than he was. What business did he have buying his own ranch—and possibly starting a family with Edith—when he felt like he was wandering in the wilderness?

Remember your family.

Tears flowed instantly into his eyes, and he pressed them closed. “My family?”

God didn’t answer him again, but Finn’s memories flowed fast through his mind. When he was deathly ill, his momma never left his side. Grandma Ackerman made soup. Grandma Armstrong took care of his dog for him. Squire spelled Momma when he came in off the ranch.

Every year, Libby had the perfect birthday present for Finn. She planned ahead and sent them every year when he’d been deployed.

When they decorated for Christmas, Momma brought out a box of old, wooden clothespins that had been painted to represent the members of her family. Her parents, her grandparents, their children.

Grandma Armstrong had inherited them from her mother, and then given them to Momma when Finn was a teenager. She’d added Grandpa, then Momma, Daddy, Finn, and his siblings.

They hung the clothespins on a light string above the windows in the living room, where their ancestors could watch over them.

“I need to trust my family,” he said aloud. As he sat there, Finn acknowledged that he was embarrassed of his family. He still wasn’t sure why or what he’d tell Edith about that, but guilt gutted him.

His family had never given him anything to be embarrassed about. They loved him. They each wanted the best for him.

“You have been hoarding Edith,” he whispered. And that was probably really killing his momma. He opened his eyes, the sunshine and blue sky blinding him. “I’ll do better,” he promised.

And now, he needed to make the long drive back to Three Rivers Ranch—and his family. “Give me the words to say,” he prayed as he put the truck in reverse and backed away from the house. For the first time, he was glad for the distance out to the ranch, because he’d have more time to organize his thoughts and his words before he had to face his momma and daddy.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Ace Glover led the way into his house, his two boys following him. At least Gun and Ash had stopped begging Ace for a dog. He had no doubt his children would win against him and Holly Ann one day, but that day would not be today.

Shiloh Ridge had plenty of dogs for his fifteen-year-old and his ten-year-old boys to play with.

“Pearly,” he called as he entered the kitchen. “The roses sure look nice.” He grinned at his thirteen-year-old daughter, who looked up from the peaches she was cutting, her smile bright bright bright.

“Really, Daddy?”

“I love the pale yellow ones,” he said as he moved into the kitchen and flipped on the sink to wash his hands. “You boys wash up. Momma and Pearl Jo have breakfast on.”

“My sister is four minutes away,” Holly Ann said as she leaned into him and kissed his cheek. “And Pearl Jo has shown me no less than sixteen dogs that are up for adoption this morning.” She said the last sentence in a whisper, and Ace chuckled as she moved away from him to get the bacon off the stovetop.

“Ash, go wash up,” Holly Ann said. “You’ve been out with the cattle. You can’t eat until you wash.”

“I didn’t touch nothing,” Ashton said.

“You touched the dirty air,” Holly Ann said.

“You’re always telling us to go outside and get fresh air,” Ashton said. “And now you’re telling me it’s dirty?”

“Ash,” Ace said. “Go.”

“The water in the bathroom is always too cold,” he complained.

“Then come use this sink,” Ace said as he got the last of the soap suds off his hands. He moved out of the way and left the water running warmly as he pulled a towel from the handle of the top oven.

“Pearl Jo, put the syrups on the table,” Holly Ann said. “Gun, grab those plates. Aunt Bethy is gonna be here in a minute.” She shot a look over to Ace, who took in the rest of the food ready and waiting on the island. He picked up a plate of pancakes and the bacon and followed his daughter over to the table.

“We’re here,” Bethany Ann called a moment later, and footsteps ran into the house. She and Kevin only had one child—a girl they’d named Mary Ann. She’d turn thirteen this fall, and she and Pearl Jo ran as thick as thieves most of the time.

“Pearl,” Mary Ann called now. “You have to come see the new kittens.”