But when Hank had come home for good, Tammy had issued an ultimatum.

And Hank hadn’t wanted to lose his wife. Not when it came right down to it.

So he’d been on the ranch. Working the land, behaving himself.

But he couldn’t work the land quite as well as he once could.

That had been true for a while, and there had been hands working on the place for a while now, but it was only recently that Hank had admitted just how much he was struggling to keep up with all aspects of the ranch, and had asked Gabe to take on the charge of it.

You’re my oldest. Caleb and Jacob, they’ve got firefighting...

And I have the rodeo.

I know better than anyone that it isn’t going to last you, Hank had said. It’s why I wanted you to go to school, instead of wasting all the good years your body had on the back of a horse.

Right. Because you did it. And it wasn’t good enough for me?

I did it so that my kids wouldn’t have to.

I’m supposed to believe that you did it for anyone but yourself, Hank? That it wasn’t about your own glory ever? Just about you wanting a better life for us?

Believe what you want, his father had said. But the fact remains, I always knew that the rodeo wouldn’t last you. It can’t. You break down, and then you don’t have anything. Well, you have this.

And Gabe had swallowed down his rage and agreed to taking it on as an undertaking.

But it gave him an opportunity to use the facility the way he’d always wanted to. To get horses into a place where they would be cared for, where they would be safe in their retirement years, and even get a new lease on life.

Much like a rodeo cowboy, a rodeo horse had a lot of years left in them once they were done competing.

The question was what you did with the rest of that life.

He’d known once. But that had been lost along the road. And somewhere in there he’d taken a turn and started feeling like he not only understood his old man, he was also damn close to being him.

But he could get this started. He could make it happen without being the one running it day to day. And in a few seasons, maybe he’d settle here.

“I have a few years left in me.” He echoed his own thoughts, a little bit uncomfortable at the parallel he was drawing, even if Jamie wasn’t aware of it.

“You think so?” She straightened and faced him head-on, her brows lifting, creating a slight crease in that smooth skin of hers. Smooth skin that reminded him she was just in her early—maybe mid—twenties, compared to his midthirties.

“It’s not like I have one foot in the crypt,” he commented.

“You’re about Wyatt’s age,” she said, tilting her head to the side. “He retired a couple of years ago.”