6227 words. Please PM if you can't see them all.

Sam knew where their communication issues were coming from, but that didn't make them any easier to handle. She stirred the oatmeal, sticky and heavy on her nostrils, carefully. "I have an appointment tomorrow."

"Hm." Jake wasn't paying attention. He was clicking away at his computer, doing what, Sam neither knew or cared.

"The sky is falling." Sam tried, dumping food into Siger's bowl. He was too pampered by half. He did not eat it until Sam shook the bowl to disperse it evenly over the surface the bowl. He hadn't moved, not until she set the bowl down. The smell mocked her.

Sam huffed, sucking down the wave of distaste with the exhalation. "Jake. I swear to God."

"Sam." Sam knew that Jake was exasperated with her, but she'd about had it with him. "What?"

"I just told you that I have an appointment tomorrow." Sam felt her hands flying automatically to her hips. She did not force herself to lower them, though she knew she should ask him if he wanted to know where, if he wanted to know that she was going to be sitting in Dr. Hull's, by herself. She wasn't about to nag him, but never before had she felt she needed to work up the guts to tell him something.

"I know you're going to Salt Lake on Wednesday." Jake huffed, "What do you want?"

Sam was a little hurt. She was meeting Teresa in Salt Lake. It was a huge thing. Teresa had texted, asked if she was free. Sam was going to finally talk to her about her next steps, finally ask if she had any advice, which Sam had avoided doing. She had a feeling that this was going to be big for her, and Jake was blowing past it.

"I want you to tell me what you're hiding." Sam came to her point. The whole house was tense. Sam thanked God the girls were sleeping late, because they'd refused to go to bed last night, and had exhausted themselves. She'd been dead on her feet then, but she was glad now, because they desperately needed to have this conversation, heated and contentious though it was.

"I'm just following your lead." Jake deflected, closing his computer lid sharply, fixing her with an accusing stare.

"Shut up." Sam spat. That was low. She had not made a secret of anything. She had been dropping anvil sized hints for days, trying to push him into putting two and two together. She didn't want to be put in this position of having to be the contrite wife. She wasn't contrite. She wasn't, and he had no right to make her feel as though she ought to fetch his slippers and make pot roast before telling him something he might not like.

Jake gripped his computer, and reached for his bag. He'd been up for hours, doing chores, then doing whatever to get ready for work inside so that she could go out and do her own chores. It usually was a good thing, but lately it had had the benefit of allowing them to avoid each other. "Sam."

"What, you don't think my job's been hard at times?" Sam pushed, trying to tell him that she did understand his pain, his frustration. She had wanted to quit at times, too. That whole thing with Linc during her pregnancy was a perfect example, "I get it. I just..."

"Yeah." Jake was utterly dismissive. "You work for Trudy, and you write."

Sam heard the same things in his voice that she sometimes heard in her own mind. She deeply valued her work now, her season of life now, but sometimes, yeah, she wondered what her life would be like if she did more, was more, than just a wife, just a mother, who worked part time to keep her resume from dying a slow and painful death. She heard the same thing in Jake's tone that she read in her college friends posts to her Facebook. It felt like he'd twisted a rusty knife into a slowly scabbing wound.

"And what's that mean?" Sam blurted. She was hurt, and angry. She worked. She worked hard for the horses, in picking up his slack on both ranches, in raising their children.

"Sam." Jake's tone was challenging, like she was one of their daughters who needed cautioning and correction, not his wife, "It just means that..."

"You always said!" Sam hastened, her voice hard, "You always said 'Do what makes you happy, Sam.' and I have! I have, and what's more, I've always told you that you should always do what makes you happy. If you're not..."

"I don't have that luxury!" Jake shouted, "Not when there's a new truck to buy, and insurance premiums to cover, and..." Jake sighed, his voice dropping to a lower volume, and taking on a level of resignation that hurt her heart far more than his bluster ever would have done, had he continued shouting. "And the only reason I don't throw my badge on the table and tell Ballard to kiss my ass is because I know that I don't have the right to do that to this family."

"Well." Sam sank down into the chair across the table, "I think you need to start at the beginning, here."

Sam knew that he was unhappy at work. It wasn't what she'd wished for him, but only he could make the changes that would end it. She would support his goals. She wanted to listen, wanted a clean slate, wanted understanding between them, wanted somehow, to help him make this better.

"What should I say?" Jake began, "That I can't put a foot right? That ever since that night, I've been one rip away from a permanent suspension?" That night he was talking about was that night with Linc Slocum. He had done that for her, and it was clear with his next words that he blamed her, held her accountable in most every way for his current lot in life, "That I feel hemmed in, trapped? That I wake up in the morning, and I want to scream, because I can't figure out where I went so wrong? There's nothing for it. I'm stuck, here."

Sam sucked in air. She forced herself to meet those brown eyes. "I..." There were no words that she could give him, not for this. She wanted to scream that she had never trapped him, never, and that if he felt trapped, it was time he found the door. She'd even hold it. She felt too shocked, too blindsided, to give into the flash of rage. It faded too quickly into pain. She wanted the rage back.

"And I just didn't want to tell you." It was Jake who looked away first, Jake who broke the gaze between them, Jake who broke their connection, "Because I know knowing that is going to change things. And I don't want to hurt you or the girls."

"You're right." Sam breathed as her heart stilled, too agonized to cook up tears and force out the questions rolling in her mind. "It will change things."

Sam shut her eyes, never having really envisioned this moment. He didn't want to hurt their daughters with this. She had to protect them, do what was best for them, and to a lesser extent, for the child she carried. After a second more, her heart began to beat again, and she found her voice, "Because you need to know that you aren't stuck. You aren't."

It hurt to have to be the one to tell him that, but it was the truth. Couldn't he have asked Quinn, Darrell, Deck? It was times like these she did not want to be his friend, and wished they did not have the history of a lifetime between them. He did not need to be here out of duty or obligation. He did not need to put himself through his own version of hell to stay somewhere he did not want to be.

"You're upset." Jake observed.

Sam gripped her cup of water. "I'm trying." Trying not to throw up, trying not to scream, not to cry, not to kill you where you stand for telling me I'm upset, Sam thought.

Jake pressed her after a moment of heavy silence. "Sam."

"Hey." Sam began, over the buzzing in her ears, "We are going to figure this out."

"Yeah." Jake began, looking earnestly over at her, "I mean. Listen. The thing is. West offered me a job in Vegas."

It wasn't earnestness in his eyes, Sam realized. It was hesitation, fear. She put the puzzle pieces together. I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to hurt the girls. I feel hemmed in. You've trapped me. And I want... "And you want to take it."

"Yes." Jake allowed, "But I'm not going to uproot the girls, Sam. This is their home."

"It is." Sam asserted, because that was one point on which she was not willing to budge. She would fight him tooth and nail if he so much as breathed one word about taking her girls. They were hers. Hers in a way that told her she'd feel no guilt about crushing him, no matter how much her traitorous heart loved him, if he tried to take those girls upstairs from her arms, "But if you choose to take this job, Jake..."

If he chose to leave, she would let him go. She would not pack his bags, but she would not stand in his way. She would not ask him to stay, would not give him one more reason to stay. He had plenty, plenty, and nothing more would ever change what should already be more than enough, not even the news of the child she carried.

"Sam, it isn't..." Jake seemed guilt ridden. Sam could not look into his eyes. She did not have the strength to keep her voice level and look him in the eyes as he ripped away every bit of the future she'd promised her children, the future she'd promised him, the future she'd promised herself.

Sam thought of that stupid 17 year old girl who had thrown her whole heart on altar and made those vows he seemed to find so chafing, and did the best thing she could for that boy she knew was still somewhere inside the man before her, "I will try my best to support it."

Jake spoke after a long moment, his voice low, gripping his spoon, "This is going to change a lot of things."

"Yeah." Sam faked a nod, which was really her gaze dropping to her knees to chase away the thoughts of those changes.

"But, I can't go on like this." Jake whispered, "It's not fair."

Sam wanted to tell him wasn't fair, coldly tell him that his own personal sense of fairness had no right to do this to anyone. Instead, she admitted the truth. There was no other way, not if his heart and soul were elsewhere. He'd said nothing about making changes together, working through this together. He'd spoken only of himself, and that spoke volumes. "Since that's how you feel, there's no other choice."

"I'm glad you're receptive to it, Sam." Sam's head snapped up. She wasn't receptive to this. She was protecting her daughters, trying to retain her own dignity as he trampled on her. Jake tried to smile. It didn't reach his eyes.

His phone buzzed. He ignored it, and stood, and put his bowl in the sink. As if he by rote, he kissed the top of her head. "What did you want to tell me?"

"Oh, just that Ally thinks Darrell is on the verge of proposing." Sam lied with another truth, "I don't want him to hurt her, make her promises he won't keep."

Sam didn't hear Jake's response before he left for work. The buzzing in her ears consumed her, and she sobbed until she had to dry her tears and go sing What's the Weather? with a smile on her face.

Jake felt a sense of trepidation crawl up his spine. Sam had been completely silent today. She hadn't sent a single text, sent a single picture. Normally, she sent at least three photos. It made him feel uneasy. He knew that bringing up the idea of going back to CCSO was a big one. For most of the day, he'd thought about the look on her face. Something held him back from checking in today, though. Ballard wanted a meeting. Jake knew he was on the verge of another lecture, possibly a disciplinary note, because he refused to hand over the case. The victim wanted to work with him, and she deserved that choice.

For about three weeks now, Sam had been dancing around something, leading him to some conclusion he did not have enough information to make. It was going to end tonight. He was going to swallow this lump in his throat, and go inside, and talk.

What he found once he stepped into the house surprised him. Sam was sitting on the couch, a mug of coffee sitting in front of her. She was staring at her feet when he walked inside. The house was chillingly quiet. "Where are the girls?"

Sam answered slowly. "They're with Dad and Cody. There was talk of worms."

Jake patted the dog, who seemed to like him enough to be glad he was home. All in all, except for the elephant in the room that he couldn't quite name, the house seemed the same. There were toys loosely clustered around a wooden toy box, and bunch of board books on the coffee table, which they had just gotten back out now that the girls weren't hitting their heads off it at every turn. "So..."

"No." Sam held up her hand, "It's my turn to talk now. You've always said you don't like playing with half a deck. Neither do I. So I need to know. What exactly were you telling me this morning?"

Jake gripped the back of his chair. Cougar butted his hand, so Jake pet the cat, rather than sitting down on the space the cat had vacated. "West offered me a job. I want to take it, but I don't want to uproot the girls."

"You know what I'm asking you, Jake." Sam cut in, her voice rough, as though she had cried recently. He didn't like the idea of her crying over this. He felt like shit about it, too, felt like he was running away from his problems, but he couldn't go on with work like this, and he couldn't take a pay cut to work on the ranch, not when there wasn't a paying space for him. Quinn and Sam had those, and he wasn't about to go hat in hand to his father or Wyatt because he couldn't cut it off the ranch.

"Not really." Jake admitted.

"In all of your talk of-" Sam broke off, "You hurt me when you said you feel hemmed in and trapped. I don't know where you went wrong, Jake, but we do need to talk about what you're planning to do to change it."

"I don't know what we're going to do, Sam. That's why I brought it up." He really did not need to hear that he was failing her, too. That hurt. "I'm sorry if the whole thing hurts you."

"You're sorry telling me you want to leave and go work with West is hurtful? You're sorry that telling me that waking up next to me makes you want to scream?" Sam gripped her mug, which Jake saw was tea when it sloshed out on to the table when she sat it down, "Because really, I'm not sure on what planet that's supposed to make me feel good about myself or the state of my marriage."

"How about on the planet, Sam-" Jake began, but then he stopped. Swallowing, he realized that he had said those things, in a way that would make it seem as though he meant them towards her, and not his job. "You thought I was talking about you?"

"You blame me for this." Sam pronounced, "For the fact that you're in a shitty position at work, for the feeling that you ought to stay, for the reasons you want to just leave and go."

"I don't..." Jake tried to explain, but then Sam's face crumbled, and her eyes filled with tears.

Jake felt his heart crawl to this stomach when those tears spilled over, and her voice broke, "Then why do you want to leave me?"

"Leave you? Sam, you don't think..."

"I did! I do, in fact! And I blame you for that. Asshole." Sam blurted, yanking her shirt up to dry her eyes. "And you know, your whole, 'let's be honest' bit this morning has made it really hard for me to tell you things you need to know."

"What could be bigger than me wanting to quit my job?" Jake wondered, trying to set her ease, "Anything else is..."

"You can quit your job and find a new one." Sam sniffed, "You don't just give back a baby." And then Sam was talking, and Jake only caught bits of it, because he was thinking.

It made a lot of sense, from the sticky tea on the table to her splotchy complexion, to the imperceptible softness in her body he'd noticed but passed off as a timely bout of good fortune. He thought back to the heavy hints about dates she'd been dropping, the random, "How would you feel about another baby?" questions she'd been pressing, and the time a few days back he'd come home to find her asleep in his chair, the girls snoring softly next to her.

"And you just don't listen...head up your...I care, I do, and I'm not trying to trivialize your issues...don't know if I'm nauseated because of this pregnancy or because you hurt my feelings...job issues are easily fixed, you know..." After another few seconds, Sam jolted to her feet, and that shook from his thoughts and focused his attention fully on the bits he'd heard of what she'd been saying. "Would you even listen?"

Jake felt his heart speed up, when things clicked together. "You've been trying to tell me for days."

"Try weeks." Sam corrected, "I'm not sorry."

"Not sorry you didn't tell me the second you knew, or not sorry in, in general?" Jake wasn't really sure what she meant, and to tell the truth, he wished she had told him. Why wouldn't she? This was something, clearly, he should have been told.

"At first I...I I didn't expect this, either." Sam allowed, "But then things got bad, and I wasn't going to add to the mess of it all. And then this morning I woke up, and threw up, so then I figured I had to tell you, even with all this crap between us, and then you ran your mouth."

Jake bit his cheek, to keep his expression from shifting, trying to keep from betraying the fact that he was startled. Yes, he was hiding his emotions from her, and it was a bit hypocritical, given that he was annoyed she hadn't felt she could say anything she needed to say to him. But she had called this pregnancy, this baby, a mess.

He'd heard her say it, and he did not know what to make of it, what it might mean. He did not want to think about it.

"You don't want this...?" Jake did not let himself complete the sentence. He did not quite know how to approach this, except he knew that he couldn't let on that her word choice had hurt him. That couldn't be his role, not now, especially not if his fears were correct. Were that the case, his only obligation was to somehow try to understand her viewpoint, and be supportive in any way he could.

"Jake." Sam blurted, "If I didn't want this baby..." Sam trailed off, and Jake heard what she did not say. She had never made a secret of it, never, that she wanted to be a mother, nor that she saw her role as a mother as sacred, because she chose it, fully, knowing that she had other options in life, but felt that none compared, for her. She loved him, but nothing came ahead of the girls when they needed her to be there for them, not even him, and he supposed now that this baby was included in that, from the second she had known.

"I guess we're going to have to keep the Scout." Jake felt relief well within him, teasing her. "Posterity."

Sam blushed to her hairline. "Shut up."

"You planned to divorce me! I think I have some room..." Jake blustered, knowing that she had just confirmed what he'd been asking about their last anniversary. Poor kid was going to grow up thinking she had been made out of obligation, duty sex based on the date, a grudging homage to the date of their marriage. He'd spare her the truth.

"It was your idea." Sam countered, hands on her hips again. He didn't know if she meant her delusional leap to divorce court, or that one time need had won out over good sense.

"I say 'Brat, I think we should go to Vegas...' and you hear, 'Sam, the world is ending.'" He didn't know how else to put it.

That had to be said. Why did she ever think, ever, for one second, that where she went, he would not follow? Why had she ever begun to feel that there was any cause to consider the end of their marriage? He couldn't even bring himself to think the word. More importantly, when, at what moment, had those doubts creeped into her mind?

There was no teasing in Sam's voice. He heard the truth in the words she forced out. He knew it was a lie, and he forgave it, mostly because the idea of being apart was also the apocalypse in his own mind. "I did not."

"If you really thought I was telling you I planned to leave," and the word hurt even coming out of his mouth, because he knew that the very idea of it would have destroyed the foundation of his universe, "Then why did you let me go this morning?"

Sam bit her lip, chewed it. She thought for a long second, and then, she spoke so solemnly that it gave Jake pause, deep in his soul. "Because if we don't both keep choosing this, it's no good. And I told you once that I'd rather you be around once and a while, and happy, then with us all of the time, and miserable, and I meant it."

Jake remembered that day. She had been pregnant, then, too. They'd fought, something awful, because he had forgotten to come home. Her hair had been frizzy, and she'd made some kind of chicken. They were going to figure out names that night, and he hadn't come home because of work.

Jake knew that he couldn't let that happen again. Today had been awful, and he needed to end it, needed to be the one, as Sam had been then, to close the gap. But he still knew that he should give her reasons, pressing reasons, to choose him, even if she was mad, even if she was hurt.

Jake nodded, "So, uh. You can't divorce me." If she left him, it would be as though she'd ripped out his heart and snapped his brain stem and broken every bone in his body. The very thought made his pulse race.

Though truthfully, he didn't know if the uptick in his pulse had to do with the softening mirth in her eyes.

Sam opened her mouth as Jake stepped closer, around the coffee table, "Theoretically, I..."

"Sam." Jake pushed her wild hair back over her shoulder. Sam leaned into him, "You can't, because I'm going to leave the department, and I need your book royalties to live on, keep me stocked up on peanut butter and fishy crackers."

"Again." Sam crinkled her nose, and Jake saw her calm acceptance, heard it in her teasing, and knew that things would be okay, "Shut up."

"Also, you can't leave me, because in about six weeks, if memory serves, you're going to need me a lot."

"I suppose you'll suffer through it." Sam was trying not to laugh at his absurdity, "But you should know it's really closer to about four."

Jake's lips rested against the top of Sam's head, and for the first time in days, he felt contentment well up in his soul as she wrapped her arms about him.

Sam found her way through Salt Lake pretty easily. She'd been here once or twice over the years, because it was a pretty large city not that far away. Adam liked Salt Lake for the sports and the outdoorsy vibe. As a teen, Seth had mocked tourists under his breath when they'd bought items that said, Salt Lake UT, by acronym. He'd said it was obvious, cheaply done, and lacked insight.

Sam was alone in Salt Lake for the first time today, and she was once again sitting in a cafe, waiting for Teresa. Sam thought back to that first meeting, nearly what, three years ago, now was it? She had been so different then. Sam considered her agenda, after being led to a booth.

The hostess left her with a menu, and Sam looked at it, unseeing. She was going to ask Teresa for her advice, she was going to work up the nerve to be perfectly honest, was going to take steps she needed to take. It really was the thing she wanted, not only for herself, but because as Jake was going to be in a state of flux, she needed a professional outlet that she could carry with her anywhere, no matter her circumstances.

Truth be told, she did not want to move, but-

"Sam!" Teresa's voice broke into her thoughts, as she slid elegantly into the booth, "Am I late or were you early?"

Sam drew her feet back so that Teresa would have space to settle. "I got in a few minutes ago. There was less traffic than I'd assumed." Sam did not want to say that she had left home too early out of nerves.

Teresa pulled a purple legal pad out of her bag, a pen, and ream of paper that Sam did not get a good look at, along with a folder. "I suppose we should order, but let's talk shop first."

"Um." Sam agreed, "Okay." She wasn't sure what Teresa had to say, but she knew that any chance to bring up her concerns.

"I would like to sign you as a client. I know this is a horrible violation of our friendship, and you are my friend, but I think we could work well together, and I'd like to see that you do your best at getting a good publishing contract." Teresa explained, "And..."

"I..." Sam broke in, "Don't you normally, like, need a query letter? Or have some sort of hoops? I was going to ask you to help me find somebody, but I couldn't take advantage..."

"Sam." Teresa, "If you want to say no, say no. I'm asking as a benefit to myself as well. Do you know how hard it is to find a client who writes well and whom I like? Just, if you're considering my offer..."

Sam made her mind quickly. It went without saying. "I'll take it."

"No." Teresa shook her head, "You'll listen first. Then you'll say okay or not. I think there is merit to this, but I think you're going to need to shift genres."

Sam felt dread building up in her stomach. "I can't write a romance."

"You've made that clear." Teresa smiled, "No, what I'm saying is this. The narrative is primarily a coming of age narrative, correct? And who reads coming of age narratives? Not people who have already done it, by and large. So your target audience isn't adults, but young people, who typically read about people just a few years older than they are."

"People whose behaviors and ideas about agriculture, wild horses, and ethics are still being formed." Sam thought aloud, "But what would that mean? I mean, you just don't wake up and say 'I'll write a teen's book today!' Do you?"

"Certainly not." Teresa tried to hide the widening of her own grin, "But you could break down this megabeast of a novel..." Here she tapped the ream of paper, "...which is too long to be even considered, even as fictional autobiography, and we could pitch it as a series, three or four books for YA."

"I'd not thought of that." Sam said, "But I do see your point. It is long."

"And if you do end up going YA, which I think you should, the length will be a huge barrier." Teresa spoke, and a few pieces fell into place in Sam's mind as she visualized with this might look like, in actuality.

After a scant second, she found the words she needed, "So, I look for the stories within the story, and parcel them out, while maintaining a overall narrative arc."

"Bingo." Teresa tapped her legal pad with the pen she grabbed, "Then I, your trusty literary agent, helps you to find a publishing house, which will generally mean a good editor, among other things. And to make a really long story short, that's how your draft becomes a book that horse mad young ladies can buy on Amazon."

"Really long." Sam grinned, knowing that Teresa was trying to set her at ease and simplify the process. "So. I think you have a new client."

Sam grinned. She had an actual editor. She had written at least twenty query letters, but through happenstance and sheer dumb luck, she had saved herself stamps, and had the chance to see this through with someone she knew and trusted. She only hoped their friendship survived.

Reality intruded into her suppressed elation, "But Seth doesn't like anybody to sign anything with him having a look at it first."

"I somehow got that impression." Teresa had already pushed the folder across the table. She'd come prepared for the results she'd hoped for, then.

"From what?" Sam asked, distracted as she peeked into the paperwork.

"You did have four or five huge scenes wherein some representation of him foils criminals with his legalese. I'd be ashamed if his real life counterpart didn't ask for a peek at a very standard contract."

"Oh." Sam shut the folder, and found Teresa looking archly back at her as the waitress approached, "Right."

"Mama!" The terror in the leggings and summer dress hollered, "Mama do!"

Margaret agreed, ripping the book from his hands, and dropping it on the pile that had grown on the floor in the last ten minutes. At least he'd cleaned up the diapers, or those piles of cloth would be buried under books.

Jake stared, "Mama is in Salt Lake, today." Jake found himself in the middle of the pile of books they'd pulled out, with neither of them able to agree on a book. "We all talked about it. I'm sorry I don't do the voices properly, but..."

Jake almost laughed at the absurdity of their mulish gazes. He never, not once in his life, thought he would be apologizing because he couldn't do voices to the liking of two people who could barely string a sentence together. They had high standards, and Jake did not mind complying. It was his lot in life, and he did not want to change it, no matter what Sam cooked up in her hormonal state.

He remembered not to tell her that she was leaping to conclusions because of the pregnancy hormones. Jake let out a shuddering breath. He hadn't quite settled into the changes the next few months would bring, the person that would arrive in the early Spring, but Jake knew he wanted to meet them, wanted their world to change again, as it had twice before.

Jake realized that he was not going to win this staring contest he'd inadvertently started. This was an old argument on the part of the twins. He was not suited to their preferred rendition of the Three Little Pigs. He did not do the voices properly and that was the only book they wanted, despite redirection on his part on several occasions in the last ten minutes. The girls shared a look, and Louisa broached the next item on their agenda, "Outside."

It was a clear concession to his lack of reading ability. Jake tried not to laugh, again, as he realized they were likely cutting their poor, pitiable old man some slack. "Go outside." Margaret agreed, scrabbling to her feet on a pile of books, "Get shoes."

"Sun'sreen." Louisa's happy voice jerked Jake into action. It took him a second because he realized that, somehow, he'd just been played. He wasn't being cut slack, he was being driven towards their choice of action. Jake wondered, somehow, if they'd planned it.

"We were just outside." Jake countered, "Don't you think it'd be nice to rest? Cougar wants to rest."

"Cat." Louisa declared.

Margaret finished the statement, "Sleep."

"Right." Jake began, "Well. You can pretend to be a cat." He reached for a book they'd previously rejected, "And we can read Max the Brave."

As their faces considered his offer, Jake added, "But first, we have to put away six books each. I'll count."

He used the knowledge that they liked to count things to inch them back towards nap time. They might have almost gotten him, tricked him, but almost. They were only nearly two, after all, and he was supposedly a trained detective. "One..." He picked up a heavy tome of see and finds, and Margaret followed suit. Louisa picked up two smaller books. "Two..."

Jake considered their enthusiasm a parenting win. He'd get the living room cleaned up, and put them down for a nap, meaning that he would have plenty of time to set up that finger painting thing Sam saw on Pinterest. It would at least prevent them both from getting covered in goat hair and mud and dirt for the second time today. He was not planning on giving another bath within the same six hour timeframe.

"Away to me." Sam called out, and Blaise rounded up a few stray cattle. Most were far out for the summer after the drive, but there were a few they kept down, for health reasons, or they were calving out of season, or they were held back for some other reason, which was at present unknown to her.

Sam watched Tempest's ear twitch slightly as she guided the reins. Things were going well. She was almost done here, and the cattle would be moved to a new pasture, and the one they'd left behind would be left to rest.

"Steady." Sam fell in behind the cattle as they passed her. In the far distance of the range, she saw Pepper on horseback.

Sam exhaled Tempest acted with little direction, and kept a good distance back from the cattle, hardly needing to support Blaise. Blaise was well trained, knew these cattle better than some herdsman might, and Sam let them do their work together with minimal input from her and little fuss. She would have to go and get the gate, but that would come in time.

For now, she felt a sense of contentment wash over her as she stared at her world. It was hers, and she was going to finally share it with the universe.

Happy New Year! I've a bit of an injury, common in equestrians, so that's what delayed this update. See you soon! In earlier drafts, Sam and Jake had a horrible, horrible, emotionally draining fight and I just couldn't do it. I lack fortitude.