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A fter Jensen and my brothers left for the fields, Caleb and I spent time with Ziggy.

We fed him oats and sweet potatoes, and when he finished eating, they played a game of tag.

Ziggy would chase Caleb in short bursts, bleating as he ran, while Caleb darted between trees, laughing as he looked over his shoulder at Ziggy barreling toward him.

Our backyard adventure was followed by a walk, eventually making our way to the corral. Only one horse was there. The others were likely already out in the pasture for the day. With no sign of Cooper outside, we head inside the stable to find him tending to a saddle.

His face is hard-set, his piercing blue eyes scanning his surroundings, always alert to potential threats.

He’s wearing his favorite black cowboy hat and a short-sleeved tan button-down shirt that stretches across his muscular frame, revealing his inked forearms. Several visible scars peek out beneath, but he doesn’t talk about them, and I’ve never asked, respecting his privacy. Some things are better left unspoken.

“Hey, Cooper,” I call out with a wave.

He gives a quick nod. “Howdy, Briar.” His hands move with precision, working the saddle soap into the worn leather in slow circles.

“It’s been a while,” I say.

“Yeah, I had to go on some business trips for the security firm. It’s good to be back.”

He sets the sponge and tin on the edge of the tack bench, wiping his hands on his jeans before approaching us.

He crouches down next to Caleb and holds out his hand. “You must be Caleb. Mighty glad to finally meet you.”

Caleb chews on his bottom lip, staring at Cooper, and I brace myself for him to shy away or tuck himself behind me.

However, to my surprise, he reaches out and shakes Cooper’s hand.

He’s come a long way with me and the Halsteads, but this is the first time I’ve seen him interact with someone he’s not familiar with.

“That’s one heck of a grip you’ve got there,” Cooper says, whistling low. “What do you say we feed Magnolia? She’s the horse in the corral. I brought her favorites: carrots and apples. She can’t get enough of ’em.”

Caleb doesn’t even look my way before nodding enthusiastically.

He’s been cautious around the horses up until recently, so this is another big win, and I can’t wait to tell Jensen.

I press a hand to my chest, my cheeks aching from smiling so hard.

It’s a privilege to watch Caleb come out of his shell, and it’s further confirmation that he’ll be just fine in the long run.

I follow at a distance as Cooper leads him to the corral, the sound of their footsteps crunching over gravel. The scent of hay and the earthy aroma of horses fill the air. It’s one of my favorites because it reminds me of the simplicity and peace found on the ranch.

I still remember the first time Julie brought me here.

I was in awe of the wide-open space stretching for miles in every direction, the opposite of the cramped, broken-down trailer I shared with my mom.

Where my mom was sharp and indifferent, Julie was gentle and patient.

That day she introduced me to the horses, and I remember one pressing its nose into my palm through the fence as if it could sense the sadness I carried.

For the first time in a long while, I felt seen.

That moment planted the seed for wanting to offer other kids the same kind of refuge. To be a guiding light to them like Julie has been to me and show them the quiet comfort that can come from an animal’s steady presence.

My phone chimes, and I pull it out of my back pocket to see who’s texting me.

Backroads & Bad Decisions Group Chat

Charlie: I’m calling dibs on being godmother to your future kids, Briar.

Charlie: I did play matchmaker after all.

Briar: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Charlie: Everyone at Lasso & Latte is talking about it.

Briar: About what?

Charlie: You and Jensen holding hands. At the fair. In public.

Charlie: Word is, you came off the Ferris wheel looking extra flushed.

It must’ve been Miss McGregor and her inch-thick glasses who started the rumor.

She was conveniently walking by when Jensen and I stepped off the ride.

How she manages to see anything through those lenses—let alone that I was blushing—is beyond me.

Good thing Earl wasn’t there. He’d probably have spotted us at the top of the Ferris wheel, and that rumor would be far more scandalous.

Wren: I thought Briar was scared of the Ferris wheel.

Charlie: Guess she’s warming up to it. Or should I say to Jensen?

Charlie: Fill us in… how was the rest of your night?

I laugh under my breath.

Briar: You’re far too nosy for your own good.

Charlie: I prefer passionately invested in your dating life.

Charlie: Now spill. Pretty please.

I had planned to tell her about last night, but I figured she’d rather hear it over the phone or in person. But since patience isn’t her strong suit, the whole gang is about to get the rundown all at once.

Briar: Jensen and I may have slept together.

Charlie: And how was urban cowboy?

Briar: I don’t kiss and tell.

Charlie: I wasn’t referring to the kissing, so please do share. *drooling face emoji

Briar: And you’re done.

I look up from my phone to check on Caleb. He’s standing next to Cooper near the corral, watching Magnolia. She’s a bay mare with a shiny brown coat.

Wren: Where’s Birdie? She’d usually be all over this by now.

Charlie: Birdie?! Show us proof of life, or we’ll call for a wellness check.

Wren: Weren’t you the last to see her?

Charlie: She wasn’t feeling well, so we left the fair early last night.

Briar: Has anyone gotten the town gossip this morning or checked the local paper?

There’s no telling what kind of trouble Birdie stirred up overnight. Wouldn’t be the first time she pulled a solo rescue mission, and we heard about her antics from the walking club or the local paper.

Charlie: Holy shit. Check the home page of Bluebell Gazette’s website.

I pull up their site on my phone. The home page loads, and the first headline jumps out at me: “Calf and Donkey Disappear Overnight from Local County Fair.” I scroll through the article and learn they vanished between midnight and six a.m. Apparently, the fairground property has cameras, but the police haven’t reviewed the footage yet.

I drop the link to the article in the group chat.

Briar: Birdie, this better be a coincidence.

Charlie: How is “lying low” such a difficult concept to grasp?

Wren: If you don’t answer, we’re launching a search party.

Birdie: I’m here!

Charlie: Where is here? In hiding?

Birdie: Someone did a nice thing by rescuing those animals, huh?

Charlie: Was that someone you?

Birdie: No comment.

As much as I want to get to the bottom of whatever trouble Birdie’s gotten herself into, it’ll have to wait. I put my phone in my pocket so I can give Caleb my full attention.

Magnolia pricks her ears at the sight of Cooper and trots over to the fence to greet him. He slides his hand through the wooden slats to scratch her forehead, and her nostrils flare as she nudges him.

“Hey there, sweet girl. I want you to meet my new friend, Caleb.” Cooper glances over his shoulder where Caleb’s watching from a distance. He motions for him to come closer. “This is Magnolia. She’s as sweet as they come and would love if you pet her.”

Caleb hesitates, shifting from foot to foot, his eyes dart from Cooper to the mare and back again. He finally takes a cautious step forward but keeps his hands at his sides.

It’s clear that he’s nervous, but before I can intervene, Cooper crouches beside him and gently takes his hand. “Try right here,” he says, guiding it to Magnolia’s lowered head, right between her ears.

She huffs softly, leaning into Caleb’s hand. When her velvety nose presses against his shirt, he lets out a bubble of laughter.

“She’s checking your pockets.” Cooper chuckles. “I usually keep a carrot or two in mine, so now she thinks everyone’s hiding snacks. Briar, can you grab the bucket of apples and carrots in my truck?”

“Sure thing.”

I jog over to his vehicle and open the tailgate to grab the metal bucket from the truck bed. It’s filled to the brim, so I carry it with one hand under the base and the other gripping the handle to keep the contents from spilling.

“Thanks,” Cooper says, taking the bucket from me.

He sets it on the ground, plucking out a handful of carrots and two apples. When he approaches the fence, Magnolia catches the familiar scent and stretches her neck over the rail.

Caleb watches, intrigued, as Cooper offers a carrot to Magnolia—her soft lips grazing his skin. She chomps it down in a few bites, juice dribbling from the groove of her chin.

Cooper holds out a carrot to Caleb. “You want to try, kid?”

This time, there’s no hesitation. He takes the carrot and extends his hand the way Cooper did. Magnolia doesn’t miss a beat, snapping it up with the same enthusiasm as she did the first. Caleb grins, pointing at one of the apples, ready to feed her again.

Watching Caleb and Cooper together, I’m reminded that pain doesn’t care what stage of life you’re in.

It takes freely and without reason or mercy.

Caleb lost his mom, and Cooper carries scars from his military service that he’d rather not talk about.

Yet, here, in the stillness of this sanctuary, surrounded by fresh air and the calming presence of a horse, pain is forced to loosen its grip—if only for a moment.

This is why I believe that my nonprofit has the power to change lives. When kids are given the space to connect, they can begin to let go of what’s been holding them back.

When my mom left town and I moved in with the Halsteads, I spent endless hours in my room, shutting myself off from everyone.

In hindsight, I was struggling with depression and the loss of being left behind.

One of the things that pulled me through my darkest moments was Heath and Walker making me go on weekly horseback rides.

Each one brought me a sense of peace and allowed me to heal from my childhood traumas.

Horses offer healing rooted in compassion, patience, and trust. Just one piece of the larger vision I’m working toward, and Caleb is quickly becoming my biggest reason to keep going until my dream becomes a reality.