And for an hour, Wyatt and Ayla were just two people celebrating a new beginning. When they rode back to the ranch that afternoon, Ayla kept looking at the simple gold band Wyatt had bought to match her turquoise ring. She turned it on her finger, smiling to herself. "What?" Wyatt asked.
"I'm married," she said like she couldn't quite believe it. "I never thought I'd say that. Never thought I'd find someone who'd want to marry me." "Why not?" because I've spent so much of my life just trying to survive. Marriage seemed like something other people did.
People who had homes and stability and futures. "You have all that now." "I know. It's just taking some getting used to." When they reached the ranch, Wyatt dismounted and helped Ayla down.
They stood in the yard looking at the cabin, the barn, the field stretching out to the horizon. It wasn't much, just a small ranch in the middle of nowhere, but it was theirs. "Come on," Wyatt said, taking her hand. "Let's go home." The years that followed were good ones.
Not perfect, because nothing ever is, but good. The ranch prospered. They expanded the herd, built a second barn, and planted an orchard that would take years to mature, but would be worth the wait. Ayla's horse training brought in steady income, and Wyatt's reputation as a fair dealer spread. People came from miles around to do business with them.
They had arguments, of course, about money, about work, about the hundred small things that couples argue about, but they always worked through them because underneath it all was a foundation of respect and trust that nothing could shake. Ayla's nightmares became less frequent, though they never went away completely. But she learned to manage them, and Wyatt learned when to push and when to give her space. He had his own demons, and she returned the favor, sitting with him on the nights when the past came calling and offering nothing more than her presence. They talked about children sometimes, but it never happened.
Whether it was age or biology or just fate, Wyatt didn't know. Part of him was disappointed, but a larger part was at peace with it. He and Ayla were enough. They didn't need anything more to make their life complete. One evening, years later, they sat on the porch watching the sunset.
Wyatt's hair had gone completely gray, and Ayla had lines around her eyes from years of squinting into the sun. But they were still strong, still capable, still together. "You ever regret it?" Ayla asked. It was the same question she'd asked years ago, but the context was different now.
"Regret what? All of this? The ranch? Me? The life we built?"