The next few days passed uneventfully.

  The novelty of their new toys was wearing off—though Cecil could still be seen hurling herself from the barn roof every few hours, laughing maniacally.

  The morning of the trip to town, Savannah’s mood was off. Cal poked at her a bit to see what he could uncover.

  It turned out to be good news, as far as he was concerned.

  She held out her wrist, closed her eyes, took a breath—and removed the bracelet.

  She set it on the kitchen table.

  “How?” Cecil muttered.

  Cal didn’t say anything at first, but relief washed over him. They could be removed. It hadn’t been, at least not entirely, a trap.

  “I wasn’t thinking about taking it off,” Vannah mumbled. “I was just thinking I might want to move it to the other wrist, and I reached… and it came off.”

  Cal nodded slowly. “That makes sense, actually.”

  “Yeah,” Vannah mumbled again, avoiding eye contact.

  Cal smiled. She had told him, even though she thought he’d take it away.

  What a great kid.

  “Well, put it back on,” he said. “And keep breakfast light—we’re eating in town.”

  The mood shifted immediately, Cecil and Vannah brightened, rushing from the room to get ready for the ride.

  “Hey—” Cal called after them. “Don’t tell anyone you figured out how to get it off.”

  Their replies overlapped:

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I haven’t even tried!”

  —

  It was a nice morning. The air was cool and crisp with the end of winter, and the sun was warm enough for Cal to shed his jacket and let it lay across Big Ed’s rump. Ed liked mud, and the trail from the ranch to the road had been pretty muddy from the melting snow. Ed had asked to run a bit, really just enough to get himself dirty. His energy had quickly waned and Cal forced him to slow, monitoring his gait closely.

  The road itself was in good condition for late winter. Maintained by drones from the town, subtly and at night, it had been built with drainage and durability in mind. Still, it wasn’t pavement. The colonists—settlers, they were called on Frontier—didn’t want that. The entire marketing campaign for Frontier had been built around the idea of a rugged agricultural world, with strict limits on city sizes, settlement proximity, and even architectural choices. The roads were no exception: simple, well-designed stretches of rock and gravel, planned for utility but never polished into something too modern.

  Frontier was a colony for people who didn’t quite seek the challenges of a non-Republic world but also didn’t want the standard experience of pre-fab buildings and high-tech infrastructure—those dull mini-core-world-wannabes. The Republic needed colonists more than colonists needed them, really, so a new plan had been hatched. A pair of worlds had been opened with restrictions, and Frontier was one of them, designated as agriculture-only—farms.

  Some of those farms would still be large corporate entities, of course. You couldn’t lock off a whole planet just for people to play cowboy. But the rules forced them to build only on the largest non-gateway continent, effectively encouraging them to pick more convenient locations elsewhere. If they did choose Frontier, they were kept out of sight—the entire Gateway Continent of the planet was as close to a national park as you could get.

  In orbit, only defense and critical infrastructure satellites were allowed. Everyone still wanted GPS and basic communications, but no one came to Frontier for the Core World lifestyle of always-connected, always-available, always-online living. The Republic had bet that the appetite for something simpler, something nostalgic, was real and would bring “the right kind of mindsets” to the colony. So they leaned into it—hard.

  If you worked for the government on Frontier, you dressed like you were from the late 1800s on Earth. Or at least, the pop culture version of it. You could pick whatever culture you liked, but you had to conform to the Republic’s marketing gimmick for the world. Most private businesses required employees to play along, for the tax break.

  —

  Cal watched with amusement as Cecil attempted, yet again, to become invisible.

  She didn’t seem frustrated anymore—just shrugged and turned back in her saddle toward him.

  “Can I ride ahead? Nugget wants to run.” Meaning Sierra wanted Nugget to run.

  “Sure,” Cal said with a smile. He glanced at Vannah. “Going with?”

  “Nah.”

  And with that, Cecil was gone; a cloud of dust, and echoes of Nugget’s faint protests at the sudden exercise, all that remained.

  Vannah smiled. “Why do you think she can’t go invisible?”

  Cal chuckled—he’d been thinking about that too. “Does your sister seem like she minds being noticed?”

  Vannah considered it for a moment—then laughed. “Short people,” she grinned.

  “Okay, Amazon,” Cal replied, rolling his eyes.

  “I’m way bigger than Cecil!”

  “World’s strongest ant,” Cal shot back.

  —

  Sierra hitched Nugget where she’d be able to see him from the corner table that was always available; across the street, but clearly in view.

  Stepping into the shade of the porch, she braced herself for the onslaught about to come.

  With a deep breath, she stepped through the doorway.

  “?Sierra!” an elderly woman with tanned skin called as she crossed the threshold.

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  “?Cómo estás! ?Mira qué poco has crecido! ?Acaso comes? ?Algo anda mal! ?Es broma, es broma! ?Cómo estás? ?No te vi la semana pasada! ?Cómo estás esta semana?” Abuela’s rapid-fire Spanish filled the room.

  Sierra grinned. “?Hola, Abuela! No como suficiente porque tú me roba toda la comida! ?Por eso creces de lado! Y ha sido un semana bien raro y jodido, ?gracias por preguntar!”

  Most of the room laughed, including Abuela, but the older women scowled.

  A brief but rapid-fire exchange of Spanish erupted between Abuela and the scowlers, ending with Abuela turning to Sierra.

  "You get me in trouble, Sierra! Everyone says I teach you these words! Tell them I am sweet!"

  "Llena de dulces, seguro," Sierra replied, moving her arms into an exaggerated circle in front of her, as if she were carrying a huge barrel, and waddling forward.

  This time, everyone laughed—except Abuela, who threw a rag at Sierra.

  —

  Maria was beautiful. Or at least, Cal was pretty sure she was—but it was hard to tell when you were smitten.

  He’d been sure other women he had known were beautiful too, but looking back, it was harder to see what had seemed so obvious at the time.

  But he was pretty sure Maria was beautiful.

  She was tall for a woman, maybe 5'10"—though she always wore boots, which put her closer to six feet. Slender, but not really. Not thin, not heavy. Just right, as far as Cal was concerned.

  Her hair was short now. It had been long when they met, but just before they got close, she’d cut it all off. Now, it was sharp, modern, aggressive—very short on one side, not quite shaved, everything else swept opposite, cut to shape a sharp angle from her jawline up toward her ear. The first time he saw it, it shocked him. But it had grown on him.

  Other factors may have been at play.

  She was a little younger than him—not by much. He’d never asked her age.

  He had brought the girls here for years to eat. Maria had watched them grow up, and, alongside the old woman behind the counter—who everyone just called Abuela—had taught V and Cecil some passable Spanish.

  She had been married most of that time. She wasn’t anymore.

  Cal didn’t ask. None of his business.

  About a year after her divorce, she had sat down with him one day—after the girls had wandered off to explore town—and started chatting.

  They had talked all afternoon, and when Cal had to leave, she had touched his hand—gently—and told him he should come back for dinner without the kids sometime. To let her know a good day.

  And that had been that.

  —

  For almost a year now, they had seen each other about once a week when Cal came into town. A few times a month, they would steal off together to do…whatever it was adults did.

  Sierra wrinkled her nose and moved her thoughts along quickly.

  She liked Maria. Maybe even loved her a bit.

  Maria had taught Uncle Cal to braid their hair when they were little. Sierra could still remember it—sort of. Sitting in the restaurant, laughing with Maria and V, watching Uncle Cal struggle with too-big fingers and too-short patience. His massive hands could probably have swallowed her whole head back then.

  So when her uncle arrived, Maria beamed and shot over for a kiss.

  The men in the bar frowned.

  So did the young women, who still preferred their men without bellies.

  But the other regulars, even the scowlers, nodded approvingly.

  Maria was good for him and his girls.

  And he was certainly better than her husband had been.

  Too fat, though, they would whisper to each other later.

  “Cal,” she mumbled against his lips, breaking their embrace to turn toward Vannah, who had followed him in.

  “?Hola, Vannah! Your sister is in the corner. She ordered you breakfast!”

  Vannah smiled, returning the greeting before heading over to join Cecil.

  Maria walked alongside Callan, her expression teasing.

  “How are things?” she asked, always genuine.

  “It’s been a weird few days,” Cal admitted, “I have a lot to share, but… maybe not right now.”

  “Ohoho, so mysterious—trying to lure me away so you can tell me your adventures in private!”

  Cal grinned. “Do I have to lure you? You don’t come on your own?”

  Maria blanched, gasping.

  “Me? With you?! Who would even believe it?”

  “Not me,” Cecil piped up through a mouthful of toast.

  Cal shot her a glare, stole another kiss from Maria, and sat down to eat.

  —

  “So, Maria,” Sierra said, barely finishing her bite before speaking. “You gotta come to the ranch. We gotta show you a secret.”

  “Oh?” Maria smiled at her warmly, standing beside Cal’s chair. “You have secrets?”

  “Yes! A killer one! You gotta come see!”

  “Well…” Maria trailed off, her gaze slowly shifting to Callan. “I have never been invited to your home.”

  Callan blinked. “What? Of course you have.”

  “Nooooo… I have not.” Her tone was shifting.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I have, of course, invited you to the house.”

  “No. You have not.”

  uh-oh

  “Maria, that’s impossible. I must have.”

  Danger, Uncle Cal! Vannah tried to telepathically send. Danger-danger-danger.

  “Then why have I not been?”

  “I—uhh—have you… not?”

  Maria slapped him.

  Not the hardest smack Cecil had ever seen, but definitely not a playful one.

  “Woah,” Savannah mumbled, chewing her eggs.

  “I get it,” Sierra added flatly.

  Callan’s eyes went wide, but before he could react, Maria launched a full assault in thick, rapid-fire Spanish.

  "?Ni siquiera sabes que nunca me has invitado a tu casa?! ?Pensé que había una razón! Tal vez está sucia, tal vez huele mal, ?no sé! ?Una razón tenía que haber!

  ?Pero no!

  ?Simplemente no piensas en mí!

  No se te ocurre. No existo para ti.

  ?No soy parte de tu mundo!

  ?No soy nada!

  Vienes, me saludas, tomas lo que quieres, y luego me olvidas.

  No es que hayas decidido no invitarme a tu casa—es que ni siquiera se te pasa por la cabeza.

  ?No me mereces!"

  “You do not deserve a horse!”

  Callan blinked, cutting his eyes to Cecil, begging for help.

  She just shook her head, deeply disappointed.

  Maria was not finished.

  “?Sabes cuántos hombres entran aquí todos los días? ?Soy una mesera guapa en un restaurante!

  Todo el día— ?María, qué bonita eres! ?María, déjame llevarte a mi casa! ?María, cásate conmigo!

  Y yo siempre digo— ?No, no, no!

  Porque tengo un hombre bueno, a quien adoro. ?Y pronto vendrá a verme!

  ?Soy una idiota! ?Eres un idiota! ?Todos los hombres son unos idiotas!

  ?Paga tu comida y vete a tu casa! ?No puedo verte hoy!"

  Maria turned on her heel and stormed from the room.

  Callan, in shock, whispered, “…what?”

  Sierra just shook her head again.

  “I don’t even know what most of that was,” he pleaded.

  Savannah set her fork down with a clink. “She’s mad because you didn’t even realize you hadn't invited her over. She thinks you don’t think about her. That you forget her when you're not here.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” Cal’s voice cracked mid-sentence–he blushed.

  Savannah resumed eating.

  Callan turned to Cecil, searching for an ally.

  She didn’t even look up from her plate.

  “I would have stabbed you,” she shrugged, and took another bite of toast.

  -------------------------------------------------------------------

  It doesn’t occur to you. I don’t exist for you.

  I am not part of your world!

  All day long— Maria, how beautiful you are! Maria, let me take you to my house! Maria, marry me!

  And I always say— No, no, no!

  Maria....