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Over the course of the following week, Graham took great care in acquainting Ciarán with every facet of life on the ranch. He showed him everything there was to know, starting with the full tour, though he was fairly certain Ciarán already knew where the well was, having visited it himself already. But still, Graham made sure to highlight all the key features: the barn where the animals were kept, the spacious pasture where the livestock roamed freely, Ginger’s stable—Graham’s old friend and the horse that had carried him through so many years of hard work—and the kitchen garden, which needed some attention. With two people now in the house, Graham realized it would have to be expanded. He’d need more crops to feed both of them, and maybe even enough to sell at market. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride as he showed Ciarán the long rows of tilled soil, the green buds sprouting from the earth, knowing that, in another season or two, the crops would grow into something they could harvest and use to sustain themselves. The land was still a bit untamed in places, but it was theirs. And the boundaries were well marked—he had carefully placed stone towers long ago, each one denoting the end of their property and the beginning of the open prairie beyond.

“All this?” Ciarán asked, his voice filled with a quiet awe as he touched one of the small towers of stones. He looked out over the land, the vast, empty prairie stretching out before them. “It’s a lot for just one person.”

Graham let out a low sigh, his thoughts turning inward. “Well, you’re here now,” he mumbled, glancing at Ciarán. The words came out more simply than he had intended, but when he looked into his husband’s eyes and saw the soft smile in return, it felt like everything was exactly as it should be.

It was true that Ciarán didn’t have any experience with life on a ranch. Graham had known that from the moment they’d met, but it didn’t matter. Ciarán was eager to learn, and Graham was more than happy to teach him. The young man’s hands weren’t used to working the land, and he didn’t know the first thing about livestock or farming, but he was quick to pick up the basics. The only plants Ciarán had ever tended to in his life had been small, decorative pots in his father’s house in Ireland. There was nothing like the earth under your nails, nothing like learning which soil was rich and which was poor, or how to spot the weeds creeping up among the plants. Graham knelt beside him, guiding his hand through the soil, showing him the differences in texture and smell. He taught Ciarán how to pluck the weeds, careful not to uproot the young plants along with them, how to spot the bugs that ate through their hard work, and which insects were beneficial to the crops and should be left alone.

But it was the animals that seemed to fascinate Ciarán most. The chickens were funny little creatures, and Ciarán enjoyed feeding them and watching them scurry around, clucking with delight. But it was the larger animals—the ones that Ciarán had only heard about in stories—that caused him a bit of nervousness. Horses, cows, and sheep had always been abstract to him, something he knew of only in theory. They were the creatures that gave people milk, butter, cheese, and wool, but now, seeing them face-to-face in the pasture, Ciarán wasn’t sure what to expect. He hesitated, unsure whether to approach them or not.

“I’m a stranger to them,” Ciarán said softly, extending a tentative hand toward the nearest cow. He kept his voice gentle, hoping the animals would sense his calm. “Will they bite?”

Graham’s heart warmed at the sight before him. There was his husband, standing in the middle of the pasture, looking unsure but determined as the animals slowly made their way toward him, curiously sniffing at his hand. Ginger, the old mare, was one of the first to approach, nuzzling Ciarán’s arm with a soft snort. Ciarán’s nervousness melted away at the gentle touch of the horse. Graham chuckled under his breath. “They know when someone’s a good person or not. Don’t worry.”

“Well, I—oh!” Ciarán let out a surprised laugh as one of the lambs trotted over and gently headbutted him in the leg, eager for attention. He knelt down without a second thought, his face lighting up with delight as the little creature nuzzled against him. “What a sweet little thing!” Ciarán’s voice was full of awe, and he lovingly rubbed the lamb’s velvety ears and stroked its soft back.

The sight of his husband surrounded by the curious, friendly animals brought an unexpected joy to Graham’s heart. Ciarán’s beaming smile was enough to outshine the sun, and for a brief moment, Graham felt a deep sense of contentment. This was it. This was what he’d always wanted—someone to share the ranch with, someone who would walk alongside him through the daily work, someone who would be a partner, a companion.

Graham tipped his hat, his gaze shifting to the ground as he kicked at the dirt with his boots. He murmured, “Yeah, sure is.”

◆◆◆

One morning, as they were finishing breakfast, cleaning the remains of scrambled eggs and buttered toast from their plates, Ciarán hesitated for a moment before asking, “Graham? Do you think that we might be able to go to town on Friday?”

Graham, who was scrubbing at the last crumbs on his plate, turned to him with a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. That’s no problem. What do you need?” His voice was open and eager to help, though his curiosity piqued at what Ciarán might want to do in town.

Ciarán twisted the corner of his apron in his hands, an unconscious gesture that revealed his nerves. “I’d like to go to the post office,” he said, his voice soft but resolute. “I wrote ‘thank you’ notes to everyone who gave us a wedding gift. And I—well, I want to mail a letter to my father. To tell him that I’ve arrived safely and that we’ve married.”

Graham’s heart gave a strange little twist at the mention of Ciarán’s father. He had heard about him from Ciarán’s glowing praise, from the way his husband spoke of him with such obvious admiration and love. But the truth was, Graham had never met the man, and the only connection he had to him was through Ciarán’s letters, which had been exchanged over the course of their courtship. In those letters, Ciarán had spoken of his family with a fondness that was palpable, and it was clear that his father had raised him with care, but Graham couldn’t help but wonder what Ciarán’s father thought of the arrangement. What would he think of his son marrying a man he had never met, after only a handful of letters? What kind of man would he imagine was marrying his son?

The thought made Graham feel uneasy, but he masked it quickly. He didn’t want Ciarán to see his uncertainty, not when the request was so simple, so sincere. “Of course we can do that,” Graham replied, his voice steady and warm. He placed his hand on Ciarán’s shoulder in an attempt to reassure him. “Your father needs to know you’re safe and settling in. And, uh, I think it’d be nice to go see Oscar and Mrs. Fournier, too. Thank them for coming to the wedding.” His mind flickered briefly to the thought of seeing the two older folks again, their kind faces welcoming them into the community. And besides, Oscar was always a wealth of information about farming. He had a mind for practical things, things Graham was still learning.

“Friday, then. It’s a plan,” Graham said with a finality that suggested he was more than happy to go along with whatever Ciarán needed. The idea of heading into town, seeing the faces of the people they had met during their short time here, was something Graham looked forward to. It would be a chance to reconnect with the world beyond the ranch, even if only for a few hours.

As the day passed, thoughts of the upcoming trip to town lingered in Graham’s mind. He knew it was important for Ciarán to send his letter. It was the kind of communication that would put his family at ease, show them that he was well and happy. It was more than a formality—it was a bridge between two lives, two families, coming together. And Graham couldn’t help but feel the weight of his own responsibility in that. He wasn’t just a husband, he was the person who had welcomed Ciarán to this new life, the one who would stand beside him through it all. He wanted Ciarán’s family to know he was taking care of him, that they were building a life together, one that was peaceful and fulfilling.

At the same time, Graham realized that he had his own tasks to take care of. They were quickly outgrowing the bed they had—the one Ciarán had helped make when he first arrived. The mattress was too small now, too cramped for two people, and with their growing life on the ranch, it only made sense to build something new, something bigger. He’d been meaning to buy the materials for it for a while, but now it felt urgent. With Ciarán’s presence, their little home was beginning to feel fuller, more like a proper home. It made sense that they would need more space, not just for themselves but for their future, for everything they planned to share together.

Later that day, as they worked side by side in the garden, Graham took a moment to glance over at his husband. Ciarán was focused, his brow furrowed slightly as he worked the soil, but the quiet determination in his eyes was something that gave Graham a sense of pride. The way he’d taken to the work, learning quickly, asking questions, offering suggestions—it was as if they had always been a team. And they had, even before the wedding, even before the letters had started to arrive. There was an unspoken bond between them now, something that didn’t need words to be understood. It was a trust, a quiet confidence in one another.

“You’ll feel better after sending that letter,” Graham said suddenly, breaking the silence. He wasn’t sure where the thought came from, but it felt right to voice it. “Your father will be glad to hear from you. And I’m sure he’ll be proud of you.”

Ciarán looked up from his work, his expression softening at the words. There was a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks, but he nodded. “I hope so. I want him to know I’m happy here, that I’m with someone who cares about me.” His voice dropped, barely above a whisper. “I want him to know that I’m not alone.”

“You’re not alone, Ciarán,” Graham said firmly. “Not now, not ever. Not with me.” His words were simple, but they held all the weight of his feelings. He hoped Ciarán would understand that he meant more than just a statement about their marriage. He meant a promise about their life together—about all the things they would build, the memories they would make, the challenges they would face and overcome.

“I know,” Ciarán replied, his voice full of warmth. “Thank you, Graham.”

◆◆◆

Ginger had grown accustomed to Graham’s weekly trips into town. The routine had settled into a comfortable rhythm, and the mare was always eager to leave the confines of the ranch, her tail flicking with anticipation as soon as the cart was ready. This morning, she was particularly impatient, whinnying and nuzzling Graham’s hair as he tightened the straps on the harness. She seemed to sense the excitement in the air—though Graham suspected it was more the promise of an outing than any understanding of the task ahead.

“Easy, girl,” Graham murmured, patting her neck, his fingers brushing against the soft, sleek coat. Ginger was a loyal companion, and despite her age, she was still as spry as ever. He had known her for years now, and there was an unspoken bond between them that ran deeper than mere ownership. She was part of the family, her steady presence as much a fixture of the ranch as the land itself.

Still, as he stroked her mane, Graham considered the growing need for another horse. He’d been thinking about it for some time, but today it seemed more pressing than ever. Ciarán was small but certainly added weight, and as they planned on purchasing the materials for a new bed, Graham didn’t want to strain Ginger by overloading her. A second horse would be a smart investment, something that could ease the burden on the ranch and give Ciarán his own steed, should he wish to learn to ride. After all, Ginger wasn’t getting any younger. They could both use the help.

“Yeah,” Graham muttered to himself, tapping his finger against Ginger’s neck. “We’ll pick up a new mare today.”

The thought put him in a better mood, and as he waited for Ciarán to finish his preparations, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to have another horse in the stable, something sturdy and dependable for both of them.

It wasn’t long before Ciarán appeared, stepping out of the house with a purposeful stride. His crisp, white shirt gleamed under the sunlight, a stark contrast to the earthy hues of the ranch. The black trousers were neatly pressed, and his boots, freshly shined, gleamed as though he’d just stepped out of a tailor’s shop. His straw hat, the one adorned with a dark green ribbon, rested on his head, though today the delicate paper flowers that had once decorated it had been carefully placed on the shelf as a memento of their first meeting.

Graham couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him—his husband, always so careful with his appearance, even in the midst of ranch life. But today, Ciarán was more than just tidy. He was radiant, his excitement barely contained as he hurried to the cart, the sack of chicken feed repurposed as a makeshift bag slung over his shoulder. Inside, Graham knew, were the letters to send. His “thank you” notes, and the most important one—the letter to his father, a gesture that had weighed heavily on both their minds since their wedding.

“I’m ready, Graham,” Ciarán said, his voice bright and full of purpose.

“All right.” Graham helped him into the cart, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary as he adjusted Ciarán’s coat. There was an odd flutter in his chest that he couldn’t quite explain. He considered telling Ciarán that he looked handsome, but the thought seemed to linger too long, and he discarded it before it left his mouth. It was an awkward notion, one that felt unnecessary. Instead, he climbed into the cart himself, settling beside Ciarán, trying to brush off the strange, unfamiliar feeling that was gnawing at him.

The road to town was a quiet one. The weather was clear and fair, with a slight breeze rustling through the trees, carrying with it the sweet scent of wildflowers in full bloom. The sky above was a brilliant shade of blue, unmarred by any clouds. It was the kind of day that made everything seem possible. Graham glanced at Ciarán, who was humming a tune softly to himself as he rearranged the letters in his sack, checking and rechecking their contents. It was a peaceful moment—one that filled Graham’s heart with a simple kind of joy. They were together. And for today, that was enough.

Their first stop was the post office, where they were greeted by Oscar, the postmaster. As Ciarán handed over the stack of letters, his cheeks flushed a bright pink when he presented the note meant for the postmaster himself.

“Perhaps it’s a bit silly,” Ciarán said, his voice sheepish. “Since we’re here now and can thank you in person, but—”

Oscar laughed warmly and took the letter from Ciarán’s hand. “Thank you, Ciarán. It’s always nice to get mail.” His smile was kind, genuine. “And don’t you worry about that letter to your father. It’ll make its way to him, no trouble. Small town, small community. We all know each other, and we all make sure the word gets out.”

As Ciarán pressed the letter to his heart before handing it over, Graham couldn’t help but wonder what kind of man Ciarán’s father was. He had been a force in his son’s life—sending him to school, encouraging him to seek out a better future. Graham didn’t know if he would ever meet him, but he imagined the man must have had high hopes for his son. What would he think of the new life Ciarán had chosen? A quiet life on a ranch, away from the bustling cities. And what would he think of Graham, the man who had married his son?

Oscar’s reassurance about the letter was a small comfort, but Graham still felt a quiet unease. He hoped Ciarán’s father would understand. He hoped he wouldn’t think his son had been led astray. But there was nothing to be done but wait and see.

Their next stop was the general store, where Mrs. Fournier, the ever-friendly shopkeeper, greeted them with a wave. She was quick to brush off Ciarán’s thanks for all her help with the wedding arrangements.

“It’s nothing,” she said with a laugh. “We’re neighbors, after all. Now, tell me, how’s the honeymoon going?” At the sight of their flushed faces, she let out a delighted laugh. “Ah, a matching set! What luck, that you found one another.”

Graham cleared his throat, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. He reached out to gently take Ciarán’s hand, tugging him toward the door before they could become too embarrassed. “Give our best to Adeline and the rest of the family,” Graham said, offering his thanks as he ushered his husband out of the store.

“We enjoyed the gumdrops!” Ciarán called over his shoulder, his voice still tinged with the warmth of Mrs. Fournier’s teasing.

◆◆◆

That left buying the lumber and the horse, neither of which were particularly thrilling tasks for a young, newlywed man like Ciarán. Graham knew how it might feel for his husband—town wasn’t as bustling as the city Ciarán was used to, and there wasn’t much to do in Larkspur besides the basic errands that were part of daily life. As much as Ciarán was adapting to ranch life, Graham could tell that there were moments when he missed the vibrancy of the places he'd come from, the energy of crowds and the opportunities for distraction.

Graham wasn’t about to let his husband waste his day on things that would only frustrate him. “I got to run a couple more errands,” he said, glancing at Ciarán with an easy smile. “You could take a walk around town if you’d like. Or get something to eat.”

Ciarán hesitated, glancing at Graham with a slight frown furrowing his brow. “You don’t… want me to come along with you?” he asked, his voice soft, almost uncertain.

Graham smiled and shook his head. “It won’t be very interesting. I don’t want you to get bored. You should enjoy yourself. See the town, do some shopping.” He gestured toward the small shops lining the main street. “We’ll still have plenty of time to spend together later.”

The idea of Ciarán wandering around town on his own seemed to unsettle his husband a bit more than Graham expected. He could see the subtle worry in Ciarán’s eyes, though he was trying to hide it with a brave face. But this wasn’t about leaving Ciarán alone—it was about giving him the space to explore at his own pace. He knew that being new to everything could feel overwhelming. And today, Ciarán deserved to have a little time for himself.

“If—if you’re sure, Graham,” Ciarán said, but there was still a slight quiver in his voice, and his eyes darted down to the ground, unsure if he was being a bother by wanting to stay with Graham.

Seeing the hint of unease still lingering, Graham leaned forward and gently placed his hand on Ciarán’s arm. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll be done in a little while, and then we can meet back up. Maybe even grab a bite to eat together later, if you’re still hungry. We’ll do something fun after.” He paused, then added with a teasing grin, “Use up the rest of that money I sent you.”

Ciarán’s expression softened at that, his lips curving into a small but genuine smile. “Yes, okay. I will.” He looked a little reassured now, but still a touch hesitant.

Graham could tell Ciarán was trying hard to adjust to everything. He was learning the ways of ranch life, embracing the quiet moments, and even finding his footing in Larkspur, but it wasn’t always easy. As much as Graham adored him and wanted to share everything with him, he knew Ciarán needed time to find his own rhythm too. And today, that meant letting him wander a little, to discover what he might enjoy in town, even if it was just taking in the sights or finding something small that could make the day a little brighter.

With one last squeeze of reassurance, Graham stood up and grabbed his hat from the cart. “I won’t be too long. I promise. You can check out that little bakery or maybe find something to bring back for the house.”

Ciarán’s eyes lit up at the mention of the bakery. It was one of the few places in town he’d taken a particular liking to, the smell of fresh-baked goods always tempting him in. “I’ll see if they have any more of those buns you like,” he said, his voice carrying a bit more enthusiasm now.

“That sounds good,” Graham replied, smiling back as he walked toward the general store, where he would pick up the lumber for the bed frame and hopefully have a quick word with the local horse trader about finding the right horse. He hoped that this task would go smoothly, though he knew the price for a good horse would be steep. But it was an investment, something that would benefit the ranch for years to come.

As he headed into the store, he turned back one last time to check on Ciarán. His husband was standing a little awkwardly near the bakery, glancing up and down the street as though trying to decide where to go first. Seeing Ciarán there, standing on his own in this new town, Graham’s heart swelled with affection. It wasn’t the same as the lively streets of New York, but it was a start—a quiet corner of the world where Ciarán could begin to carve out his place.

With a final, warm smile, Graham walked into the store, his mind already half on the errands and half on what he hoped would be a lovely afternoon once they were both done.

◆◆◆

The carpenter, a no-nonsense sort of man with broad shoulders and thick hands, sold him the materials he needed for the bed frame. Dark wood, sturdy but not too dense, the kind that would carve well without splintering too much. Graham could work with it. It wouldn’t be anything fancy, he knew that much. He wasn’t a craftsman by any stretch of the imagination, and the idea of getting too intricate with the carvings felt a bit out of his depth. But he could make it nice. Perhaps some simple designs, nothing too bold—maybe flowers or birds, something soft and peaceful, like the quiet mornings he and Ciarán spent together. Maybe a pattern that could remind him of the way Ciarán’s laughter filled the air. He could sand it smooth, polish it nice, and present it to Ciarán with a quiet sort of pride.

Graham allowed himself a moment to daydream as he paid the carpenter and took the rough-cut pieces. He imagined Ciarán in their room, his husband wearing nothing but a nightshirt, looking over the freshly made bed frame. Ciarán, who would run his fingers over the carvings with that soft, appreciative smile of his, his fingers brushing over the smooth surface, bending over to examine the details as if it were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Graham’s chest tightened with warmth, and he could almost hear Ciarán’s voice, soft with affection.

“You made this for us?”

But before he could picture more of the scene, a voice broke into his thoughts, snapping him out of the daydream with startling clarity.

“What’re you making?”

The shopkeeper’s question caught him completely off guard. Graham blinked and looked up, finding the man leaning casually against the workbench, a toothpick held between his teeth and a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. It was clear from the look in his eyes that he had noticed the way Graham’s mind had wandered.

“What?” Graham mumbled, hoping his face wasn’t as red as he felt.

“All this,” the shopkeeper repeated, gesturing to the wood stacked in Graham’s cart, “What’re you going to do with it?”

Graham cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks flush even deeper. “Make a bed,” he muttered. The words came out gruff, a little defensive, but he wasn’t about to let the man embarrass him, not after the ridiculous thoughts he’d been entertaining.

The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow, still not letting up. “Don’t you got one?”

Graham grunted. “Yeah, just need a new one, is all.”

“Hm.” The shopkeeper took a long look at him, then proceeded to pick his teeth with the toothpick as though Graham had just told him the most interesting thing in the world. “Marriage is treating you well, then.”

The words hit Graham like a bucket of cold water. He blinked, the reality of it all settling back in, and he couldn’t help the embarrassed smile that pulled at the corners of his lips. “Yeah, it’s… it’s going well.”

Trying not to sound too flustered, he grabbed the lumber and hauled it to the cart with an exaggerated grunt, as if the weight of the wood was all that was on his mind.

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