HERS |Tris Morgan x Jack Marston |Book III of HIS Series

A New Beginning

Arthur and Tris had returned only as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the vast, rolling plains. The day's ride had been leisurely, a rare luxury for the pair, who hadn't been able to ride together for fun for some time. Yet, tonight, he cherished every moment spent with his daughter.

As they meandered homeward, the amber glow of the setting sun painted the world around them in hues of gold and fiery orange. The gentle sway of their horses' gait seemed to match the rhythm of their conversation. Arthur couldn't help but smile, his heart lighter despite the weight of the past. Tomorrow, Jack would join their father-daughter, monthly sales trip to Van Horn, but tonight was theirs alone, a balm for Arthur's aching chest.

Tris, her lips still tinged with the taste of chocolate from the treat her father had miraculously conjured from his satchel, broke the peaceful silence.

"I think the new fillies should fetch a decent price tomorrow," she muses, her voice as warm as the fading sunlight.

Her Pa, always being a master of understatement simply replies with a nonchalant shrug "Hmm, maybe."

She crumples the now-empty wrapper and stows it away in her saddlebag with a playful scoff. "Oh, come on, Pa. You and I both know no one can produce quality horses like you can around here. Don't be modest. You've even got those Braithwaites panicking, and they're all the way down South."

Her Pa's smirk holds a hint of mischief, and a twinkle in his eye hints at a secret. "Something funny?" she probes.

"Nothing," he replies, shaking his head, but his grin only grows wider. "It just wouldn't be the first time the Braithwaites and I crossed paths. Your Unc—" His voice trails off, brows furrowing suddenly.

Confused, Tris scans the surroundings. "What?"

"You, uh... You still gonna call John, Uncle, now that you and Jack are... y'know?" He stumbles over the last words, a blush creeping up his ears from beneath the brim of his hat.

Realization washes over her, and she lowers her head. "Probably not. It feels weird when Jack still calls you Uncle. I guess it'd be the same for him." She chuckles softly, her gaze meeting her father's. "Probably wouldn't sound great in public if someone heard that, anyway."

Arthur points out the obvious, though with a grin that softens the words. "You ain't actually related."

"I know, but people hear us say that thing, and they might start thinking we're like them Murphy folk you told me about," she shudders.

Leaning over on his horse, Linc, to pat her shoulder, Arthur laughs, savoring the newfound peace in their relationship. "Don't worry, your kids ain't gonna grow extra toes or nothin'."

The moment lingers, but Tris tenses under his touch, prompting him to draw his hand away, a flicker of concern passes over his face.

"That's maybe a conversation best left for another time. Yea?"

"Yup," Arthur nods quickly regretting his comment immediately.

Tris spots Willard's Rest coming into view and grateful for the diversion she steers her horse along the path.

"So tomorrow we're meeting Clay and Clive around three at the Old Light Saloon."

Grateful for the change of subject Tris sits a little straighter. "The Davie Brothers?"

When Arthur nods she tips her head back and groans dramatically.

"I know, I know."

"They're so cheap Pa! Not to mention Clay is full of himself and Clive just ..." She stares off blankly before shuddering, "...sits there. Gives me the creeps."