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The night sounds came alive slowly—the distant hoot of an owl, the soft chirp of crickets, the occasional snap of a twig somewhere in the brush. Out here, the world didn’t need words. It justwas.And since there was nocell signal, my phone wasn’t going to ring or beep and ruin nature’s concerto.
I took a slow sip of bourbon, letting the warmth spread through me. Then, I watched the flames in the outdoor fireplace dance, steady and unhurried—the only company I needed tonight, along with memories of Nash…and Mama.
Since she died, I knew he wouldn’t last much longer. But he did for three long and painful years, waiting for Duke to come home.
Nash loved Mama. I didn’t doubt that. Even more than he loved his son because he kept her when letting her go would guarantee Duke’s forgiveness.
No, he decided that Duke’s departure was my fault, and that way, he could keep Mama and pretend I was to blame.
I hadn’t known about him and Mama, not until Duke told me.
Their affair had never been out in the open, but love like that was hard to hide. And yet, I hadn’t seen it, maybe I hadn’t wanted to. Who knew? I was a kid, finding myself, trying to live up to Nash’s expectations because he’d become the father I didn’t have and wanted.
I loved the man—idolized him. I didn’t want to be a housekeeper like Mama; I wanted to be a cowboy like Nash.
But after that summer with Duke, I began to notice the stolen glances between Nash and Mama, the quiet smiles when they thought no one was watching. I saw itin the way his hand would brush hers, just barely, when she passed him a cup of coffee in the morning.
Mama had been so happy with Nash, so much so that she hadn’t cared that he didn’t legitimize their relationship. And Nash—rough and unyielding—softened around her in a way I never saw with anyone else.
I sometimes caught them tucked away behind the barn or standing too close by the corral, whispering low enough that only the wind could hear them. He never took her to town, never let anyone call her his, but everyone knew.
They belonged to each other, even if the world refused to let them have it.
The night Mama died, Nash lost himself.
I found him in his office, a bottle of whiskey already half-gone, his breathing uneven.
"She’s gone, pretty girl." His voice had cracked. "She’s gone."
He never cried, not in front of anyone, but he did with me that night. I put my hand on his back, and for the first time in my life, he let me comfort him.
But Nash was a complicated man. He loved me because I was his Maria’s. He liked me, trusted me, relied on me—and he resented me because I had ruined his relationship with Duke. If I hadn’t been with Duke, he would’ve come back, that was his assessment.
He told me he was being unfair to me when he was drunk. And when he was sober, he made sure I knew he meant every harsh word he sent my way.
But I stayed. I took care of him because I’d promised Mama, and I kept my word—it was all I had to give.
“Let the bad memories go,” Mama whispered as she lay dying. “Keep the good ones. And…forgive me,mija.”
I didn’t ask what she needed forgiveness for. I knew.
She wanted absolution for putting Nash ahead of me, for keeping me tied to Wildflower Canyon, for not protecting me from the man she loved.
So, I shook off the bad and focused on the good.
I smiled, remembering how Nash taught me to ride—to sit deep in the saddle and trust the horse beneath me, to read the land, to sense a storm before the first cloud touched the horizon. He showed me how to drive cattle, mend a fence, and break a green colt without breaking its spirit.
"You’re tougher than you look, kid," he said when I took on my first horse. "Might make a cowboy out of you yet."
I smiled to myself and raised my glass to the stars.
"Goodbye, Nash. Take care of Mama."
I drank to that, letting the bourbon warm me from the inside out.
And then,just like that, I let him go.
I let all of it go.