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It was not until Atta was born that she returned for a trip, at the tearful request of my grandmother.

My father was thrilled that she was gone.

My father and aunt were both up for the coveted role in our family, the role of leader, and after my aunt left, my father received the title by default.

My grandmother, before her death, had told me my aunt was close to nudging him out.

I believe this was the only reason my father allowed my friendship with my cousins over the years.

As if to say, See, this is what your life could be!

I had learned early on that he sent me not to have fun, but to be miserable.

When I would return, I would grumble and pretend to be sooo tired from cleaning up animal crap…

…when in reality, I would grumble about being back and sleep for a week straight because I was too depressed to get out of the bed.

I had trouble converting over to who my family in Venice expected me to be.

I love designing and creating art, but it was the rest of the expectations that felt strangling.

I was expected to marry a man I did not love so the match would look ideal to the world.

It would also bring our family together with another worth mentioning.

I did not want to even think about what’s his name . The one my father wanted—would perhaps, at some point, demand that—I marry. The one Anselma had invited to the country music festival in Italy.

Another grin came to my face when I thought about his face when I whacked him on the head.

I did it on purpose so he would give me some breathing room.

It was like what Atta and Ty did to each other out of fun.

Smack the other on the forehead and say it was because they were squishing a mosquito.

I did not give what’s his name that much of an explanation, but he got the point.

What I was doing was taking the fun out of the joke.

Out of all my family, Bianca Watt was the only one, even over Atta, who could understand my position.

Where I stood, stuck between a rock and a hard place, the space between my art and my heart.

When I had first arrived, she gave me a look that meant I understand , a stiff hug, and then she disappeared into her safe space. With her horses.

The song playing through my earbuds was a movie score to the scene in front of me.

My aunt sat high atop her horse, her wide-brimmed hat shielding her eyes.

Her blond hair, just like Capri’s, was slicked back in a ponytail landing right at her collar.

Her leather overcoat reached to her knees.

She was leaning over some, her weathered hands covered in turquoise and silver rings.

As the song said, she was going to let that pony run, be reckless as she took her mare through rivers and narrow paths.

My aunt’s life was no fairytale after she moved away from home.

Perhaps in the beginning it was, when she had met her soul mate and thought life was going to be perfect forever.

When Atta was seventeen, Ty sixteen, Bear was killed when a drunk driver struck his truck.

It was such a devastating blow. And not only because they had lost a father, a husband; they also lost Bear’s father and his two brothers.

My eyes scanned the property and found Hannah. She was from Maine, from the Mi'kmaq tribe (or MicMac, as she told me to call them when I could not pronounce the name correctly with my accent), and she had met Bear’s father in the same way Bear had met Bianca.

At the time, the Watt Ranch had been a cattle ranch, but Hannah did not care for it.

She was connected to the land, and she said sending all the animals to be slaughtered did not feel right to her.

The last of the cattle were kept, and the ranch turned into an equestrian farm. Even though it teemed with a lot more.

Atta and Ty were like Hannah in that way. They loved all animals. They loved the land. They respected nature.

At one point, when Bianca and Hannah were close to losing the ranch, Atta convinced them both to turn it into a Dude Ranch.

Running a four-thousand-acre (or hectares, as it was called in Italy) ranch was no easy feat.

For a while they offered it to the public until Atta landed a recording deal (after going viral for covering a popular song) with a country label and had enough money to save it.

My eyes scanned the property for Hannah.

She was outside, sitting in her usual spot, sketching, her hands blackened by the coal.

Her sketches of bison were hanging in galleries across the country, along with ones she did of the land.

Her baskets were on display as well. Hannah was one of the most skilled artists in basket weaving.

The items she needed for her craft surrounded her, along with a few spectacular baskets she had finished.

Hannah herself was the most spectacular sight of all.

She was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen.

Her hair was long, silky and black, and her eyes were as deep as Scarlett Fausti’s in depth.

Her hands… Sometimes my skin anticipated her touch.

It was cool and soft, so comforting. And it almost felt as if she could weave together the threads of my life when her hand came to my arm.

She seemed to feel my eyes on her. She turned her face, the wind snatching a piece of her hair and bringing it over her face.

I smiled at her and she smiled back, pulling the blanket around her shoulders tighter.

Although it was stifling outside, she kept it around her.

She had told me once, a few years ago, that ever since her husband had been taken from her, she could never get fully warm.

Which was why she had called him Bear, although his name had been Clay.

Bear, my aunt’s husband, was named after him.

My eyes roamed back to the spot where my aunt had been. Dust swirled up in her tracks. She had taken off, perhaps to get lost in the sprawling land. Her time to grieve the memory of her husband alone.

Atta walked toward me, her boots kicking up dust. She set her arm around my shoulders. “You smell too good,” she said with a cheeky smile. “We’ll take care of that in no time.”

I smiled back. “I know.” I lifted my arm and she pushed me away, laughing.

“I’m surprised Louie didn’t try to get underneath your pit. It smells like apples.”

“He did.” I laughed. “This is why I do not spend much time with the horses.”

She grinned, coming in close and placing a smooch on my temple. “We’re short staffed, Sis. Ty went to meet the new recruits. Granny vetted and approved them herself. They’re only temporary. Cruising right on through town.”

“Should I get the cabins ready?” I asked.

“Done.” She whistled in the opposite direction, calling Judge and Juri to her side. “Wanna bet how long they’ll make it? Ty said they have a really nice truck.”

Atta and Ty always judged how long a man would stay by the state of his truck.

The newer the truck, the less likely they believed he would survive the hard work.

Atta called them wannabe ranchers who watched a television series and thought that they, too, could do what was being shown on the electric box.

Most of them were “outta here,” as Atta would say, not long after they arrived.

Dude Ranch time was over. This was real work requiring long hours and tough circumstances.

“How nice?” I asked.

She shrugged. “He didn’t give me details. He just said, ‘really nice truck,’ take the bets. Then he hung up.”

Judge and Juri’s ears perked up a minute before we heard it.

The crackle of the driveway, before dust clouded the area.

Ty flew out if it, coming to a harsh stop.

Judge and Juri’s ears perked up even sharper, and Atta and I looked at each other, eyebrows raised.

The truck behind Ty’s was one of those Dually monsters.

It was not only growling with power, but showy.

Matte black, dark tinted windows, and red rims to compliment the trim.

The music causing the windows to tremble was clear to hear. Hip Hop Country. “Ms. New Booty.”

Ty raised his eyebrows and grinned, then started moving his shoulders to the beat. Atta and I started laughing.

“Half a day!” Atta squeezed my arm. “That’s where my money’s at.”

“I don’t know,” Ty said. “That’s all I’m going to say. People are not always who they seem at first glance.”

Atta and I looked at each other, both of our eyebrows raising again. Then my feet were raised off the ground and I was being turned around in circles.

“Sis!” Ty was giving me a bear hug as he spun me around.

This was the first time I had seen him since I had arrived.

I looked down, setting my hands on his wide shoulders, and smiled at him.

He looked up at me, and all I could see was Hannah.

He was the spitting image of her family.

His smile could tease the sun out of the clouds.

I tried to respond to him, but he was hugging me so tightly, I could barely breathe.

“How long are you here this time?” he asked. “Forever. Forever, right?”

“Sis has a cottage with her name on it.” Atta smacked me on the behind. “ Ms. New Booty knows it.”

My cottage. My perfect little slice of heaven. Hannah, who I called Granny as well, had basically given it to me. She felt it was where I belonged. She knew it would become my happy place.

“I wish,” I barely got out, then I started to choke on my own spit.

The two men, the two new ranch hands, had stepped out of the silent truck—the music had been turned off with the motor. When the shot-gun rider had set his feet on the ground, it was like an earthquake had hit.

Ty had stopped spinning me, but my head kept going around in circles. I could not catch my breath. The man’s eyes automatically connected with mine, then his narrowed stare went straight to Ty.