Page 8 of Take a Chance (Blue Creek Ranch #1)

Malachi

S omehow, the ranch was even more of a whirlwind than I thought it would be. I could safely say that as Jenn, Mike, Crew, and Russ left us to unpack.

Yes, I recognized that this was nothing, but Tony and I had led a solitary life of two for months now, and those four had already been more peopleing than we’d done in a while. The fact that there was a bunch of staff and an infinite amount of Harrington siblings was… it was a lot.

Tony, however, collected himself and peered up at me. “So, where do we start, Daddy?”

I smiled and tousled his hair. “How about we go see your room again and figure out if you need my help there, and if not, you continue there, and I’ll come back here?”

He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Okay. But you have to tell me if you need my help, too, okay?”

“Okay.” It was an easy promise to make. I refused to lie to my kid about anything and he was serious and smart enough that he’d know if I’d been telling half-truths. I hoped to deity that nobody would lie to him here, because my son had a long memory.

I was still a bit blown away about the fact that they’d gone through the trouble to make the one room into two smaller ones.

Mine had enough space for the double bed that was already there, a dresser, and a nightstand.

His had room for all his essentials we’d brought in.

His bed fit in one corner, his beanbag chair in the other, and his beloved bookshelf next to it.

There had already been a dresser in the room, and Crew had helped me move it under the window for a makeshift high window seat for Tony. The window gave into the wide open space of the pastures, and I was already thinking about putting some bird feeders nearby to give him something to watch.

Once he didn’t need my help anymore, I wandered into the front room and looked at the pile of boxes.

There wasn’t much. It was almost tragic how little we had.

But then both Tony and I were simple men and didn’t need many clothes.

Our most prized possessions were Mr. Raven, his books, and my framed picture of my horse Jaina that I carefully uncovered from its bubble wrap and cardboard.

Sighing, I stroked the familiar features of the mare’s neck with my fingertips. Somehow losing her hurt more than having lost the farm. Still, I liked that I now had a wall where I could put the large frame.

There was a hook in a spot above where the entertainment center would likely go if we had one. Something about the placement suggested that a family photo should hang there, but we’d never been family photo people.

Not with how things had gone with my dad and not with how things had gone with Vera. The situations were different and maybe we should’ve celebrated our tiny little family unit more, but I liked to show love in practice, not hang a demonstrative piece of paper on the wall.

I did recognize that there was some weird fucking irony in how both myself and my son lacked one parent now. Neither had been in the cards back in the day.

I straightened the frame a little. Jaina was sixteen two, a gorgeous bay with four long socks and a blaze. Her mane was glossy black and in the picture she stood in the light from the setting sun that tinted her even more red than she really was.

She’d been my best friend and confidante for seven years, ever since I’d bought her from an auction at two years old. She’d been a big, gangly thing. Mostly legs and ears, but there’d been a wisdom in her eyes that none of the other younglings had had.

The seller had said she was an oopsie baby.

Mom was a Clydesdale and dad was unknown, since the mare had come to the seller pregnant and they hadn’t wanted the filly.

At least that’s what he’d said at the time, but I’d learned since then that maybe that wasn’t the case.

No. I wasn’t going to dwell on that now.

“Daddy?” Tony stepped into the room, then his gaze went to the picture. “Oh.” He walked to me and hugged my leg, pressing his head against me. “I miss her, too.”

It was a lot for him to say, because he didn’t really care about horses. But she’d been the first horse he’d ever been on as a tiny little thing that still fit in the crook of my arm.

I cleared my throat. “Yeah, bud. I do, too.”

He squeezed me hard, then looked up. “I think I’m done for now, but could I maybe help put the kitchen stuff away?” His expression was so hopeful that my heart clenched.

“Of course. Let’s go see what the right boxes are.”

We both had that thing where we loved a certain glass, mug, fork, you name it.

We’d collected a mishmash of things that made no sense to anyone else, but we loved.

I’d once seen a meme online that said it was “on the spectrum” behavior, but I couldn’t have cared less.

I was doing fine and so far so was Tony.

If that changed for either of us, I’d look into it with the help of a professional.

We agreed where everything should go and then Tony got to work.

There was a step stool that was high enough that he could reach into the lowest cupboard shelves just fine, so I wasn’t worried.

For all he wasn’t outdoorsy, Tony was agile and had loved climbing since he realized he could do it.

I made a mental note to ask Crew if there were any good spots on the property.

Trees, rock faces, I wasn’t fussy, and neither was Tony as long as he didn’t have to deal with anything “icky” while climbing.

Jenn’s welcome basket had some food items, including a sneaky casserole dish of mac and cheese, which happened to be Tony’s favorite. I assumed she’d asked him and then used that knowledge to make our first evening a bit easier.

We still needed to go get some staples, but I’d do some research on the best grocery stores in town or maybe call Jenn to ask . She would know, given that she was the master chef of the ranch and needed to feed quite a few mouths both time and cost efficiently.

There wasn’t space for a chest freezer in the kitchen, which was a bit of a bummer, because I’d wanted one for a while.

Even with a smaller one, you could save some serious money by freezing stuff and bulk buying became a real option.

At least the pay here was decent so I didn’t have to count every penny, especially with no rent to pay.

The appliances—a fridge and a microwave—didn’t look that old, so that was good. I didn’t mind not having a dishwasher when it was just the two of us, and the coffee maker and the toaster we had would fit perfectly in the small space left.

I opened one of the boxes I had had sealed since moving off the farm and chuckled.

“Guess what I found?”

Tony put his favorite mug on the shelf, then grabbed the edge of the counter and turned to look. “What?”

I lifted the little red radio we’d had in the farm kitchen once.

“Oh yay!” Tony beamed.

Turning it on, I found a country station. Immediately, the familiar tones of Away from You , one of my favorite songs by Wren Paxton, filled the cabin.

Tony wiggled and grinned. For a country ballad, the song was one of his favorites, too.

“Don’t fall off,” I warned him.

“I won’t!” Pointedly, he made sure he had good handholds as he got off the step stool and went to figure out where our utensils might go.

We made the drive to the grocery store and familiarized ourselves with the town a little bit while we were out there. We found the library, which looked small but would no doubt be the light of Tony’s life in no time.

There was a diner too, because of course. We didn’t go in, but I promised Tony we would one day soon.

“I really hope their milkshakes are as good as at the old one,” he said wistfully as we drove past.

“Me too, buddy.”

By the time we made it to bed that night, we were exhausted, but we had a new home, our bellies were full, and for once, Tony wanted to cuddle with me instead of sleeping in his bed.

It was first night jitters, so I was pretty sure he’d go to his own little room tomorrow night, but I’d enjoy the company while I had it.

The next day, we continued to get settled and then went for a walk to look at our immediate surroundings. On a ranch this big, there was too much to even consider showing Tony, but he needed to know landmarks such as they were on this mostly flat area just in case of an emergency of any kind.

We wandered to the closest horse barn because for once, Tony wasn’t in a rush to go back inside. The barn was attached to an indoor arena, and a guy around my age was doing some groundwork with what looked like a quarter horse.

“What’s he doing, Daddy?” Tony asked quietly, somehow more curious than I’d expected.

We stood at a wide gate, leaning into it side by side.

“He’s teaching the horse how to move to the side when he asks.” I explained the basics of pressure and how to use it in horse training to Tony who nodded seriously every now and then.

After a few more minutes, the man patted the horse, gave it a treat, and then unclipped the lead rope to let the horse free.

“Go roll,” he told it, then turned to look at us, smiling.

He looked enough like Crew to be one of his siblings. He wasn’t very tall, maybe 5’7’’ if that, and his build was that sort of slim, sinewy type that spoke of strength without bulky muscles.

“Hey,” I said quietly as he walked closer.

“You must be Malachi and Tony.” He held out a hand over the fence. “I’m Hawk.”

His voice was deeper than you’d expect with how he looked, and his shake was firm.

“Nice to meet you.”

Tony held his hand through the gate. “Nice to meet you,” he parroted.

Hawk smiled. “You too, Tony.”

To my surprise, he asked, “What’s the horse’s name?”

Hawk turned his head to look at the roan filly roll in the sand. “She’s called Scarlett. I’m training her for a friend.”

“Daddy explained about pressure. Like how you made her… yield?” His brows scrunched in concentration.