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"𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄 you don't want us to see you off at the station?" Stella asked gently, her voice carrying both motherly concern and quiet strength. She stood with Montana in her softly lit room, folding dresses with the same care she once gave to tucking her little girl into bed.

Montana carefully laid Ava's pink dress into the suitcase, her delicate hands smoothing out every crease as if it were holy. "I'd rather say goodbye here," she whispered, her violet eyes thoughtful, almost far away.

Stella studied her daughter, seeing past the composed smile into the nervous storm beneath. Leaving home frightened her, yes—but so did the weight of love she carried. Stella reached out, folding another dress with care, and asked softly, "Are you all right, my darling?"

"Yes, Mama. I'm all right," Montana answered with quiet poise, though her hands lingered on the fabric as if anchoring herself.

"No second thoughts about leaving with Mrs. Stafford-Smythe?" Stella pressed gently, slipping one of Ava's old dresses into the case as if placing a blessing.

Montana shook her head, placing her small silver cottage ornament delicately among her things. "No. Not anymore. I feel at peace with my decision."

Stella's maternal intuition caught the flicker in her daughter's eyes. She softened. "Ah. So the second thoughts are about Jack."

Montana froze, her face betraying the smallest shift. She clutched the necklace at her throat—Laura's locket. Her voice trembled. "I love him, Mama. I'm so in love with him it's driving me mad. But sometimes... sometimes one dream is all you can have. Right?"

Stella's arms were around her in an instant, holding her tight like only a mother could. "The heart knows what it wants, my dear Montana. I know you've always dreamed of this path. But I also believe in meant-to-be. And what's meant to be..." her voice gentled, "...always finds a way."

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

On the Walker ranch, Nathan, August, Robby, Clay, JB, and Derek sat on the porch, boots resting against the weathered boards, the morning air crisp with Texas bite. Jack pulled up in Nathan's old '90s Chevy, gravel crunching as he parked. He stepped out, his shoulders heavy with melancholy.

"Morning," Jack greeted.

"Morning," the men replied, rising from the porch.

Jack's eyes swept over them, gratitude plain in his expression. "I just wanted to say goodbye—and thank you. For everything."

"You headed home?" Clay asked, his voice low and steady

Jack nodded. "Clark and Lydia are moving onto the ranch. I'm headed back to New York tomorrow. I imagine Montana left already?"

Nathan answered gently. "We said our goodbyes at Stella and Johnny's this morning. She's probably getting on the train right about now."

Clay folded his arms across his chest, his gaze sharp as steel. "Then you're standin' here like a damn fool. A woman like Montana? You don't just let her walk away."

JB shifted his hat back, his words carrying the weight of someone who's been bucked hard and learned what's worth holding onto. "Clay's right. I've hit the dirt plenty, but Kara—she's the one thing I never let slip. Jack, when you find a woman who makes you feel like that? You hang on 'til your knuckles bleed."

Derek leaned against the porch post, his easy smile softening the grit in his voice. "He's right. Amy and me—we've been through hell and back, but I'd never forgive myself if I'd let her go when it got tough. Jack, Montana looks at you like Amy looks at me. Don't be the guy who remembers what he lost instead of what he kept."

Jack's throat tightened, torn between fear and longing.

Nathan stepped forward. "Jack—you once asked me when I knew I loved my Ava. But you never asked what I did about it."

Jack's brow furrowed. "What was that?"

Nathan's gaze stayed steady. "She left on the train. Headed back to Fort Worth. I went after her. Because if you love someone—if you truly love them—you don't let them go."

August spoke next, quiet but sure, his Sam Winchester tone carrying quiet conviction. "You've already lost too much, Jack. Don't add her to that list. You love her? Go after her."

Jack swallowed, his voice cracking. "I've learned so much from you. From all of you."

Clay's jaw ticked, his tone curt. "Then stop talkin' about it and go."

JB tipped his hat low, eyes narrowing with that cowboy grit. "Ain't no bull that's harder to ride than love. Trains don't wait, son. And neither does love.

Derek clapped Jack's shoulder, his grin edged with urgency. "Go get your girl, man. The rest of it'll figure itself out."

Nathan gave the last word, calm but firm. "Don't you have a train to catch?"

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

On the train, Montana sat with Mrs. Stafford-Smythe and Windsor in the first-class lounge. Around them, a cluster of wealthy women gossiped, their voices sharp.

"I'm glad to be leaving this godforsaken country," one woman sniffed.

Mrs. Stafford-Smythe shot her a look. "I wouldn't call it godforsaken."

"Horrible snowstorms," another added.

"Beautiful sunsets," Montana answered softly, her smile radiant through the ache in her chest. "Rich soil."

"A woman has to be crazy to stay," another woman muttered. "Crazy—or in love."

Montana's chest stung. Her eyes burned as she turned to the window, tears brimming. The sunlight caught her features, her beauty softened with sorrow, her violet eyes glistening like jewels.

"Bound for Boston in five minutes. Last call!" the conductor called.

"Montana!"

Her breath caught. She turned to see Jack running down the platform, breathless, eyes fixed only on her. Her heart leapt, and in that instant, all her composure gave way to radiant joy. She rose, hurried off the train, and reached him. "Don't go!" she cried to the conductor, her voice full of pleading life.

"Jack—what are you doing?"

He took her hands in his, breathless but unwavering. "A man loses his woman, he goes after her. It's as simple as that. I'll practice while you're in school, then we'll come back here."

"You'd be happy practicing law in Austin?" she asked, her tears falling freely now.

"Austin's where I first learned to love the law. And it has you. I couldn't be happy anywhere else." His voice broke, but his gaze never faltered.

"This isn't your world, Jack," Montana whispered.

He shook his head. "You're my world, Montana. I love you, Montana Lawrence. I've always loved you. From the moment I saw you—I loved you."

Montana's tears glistened like diamonds as she smiled through them. "I love you too, Jack."

They fell into each other's arms, their lips meeting in a kiss that held all the longing, all the certainty of souls who had found home in one another. They rested foreheads together, their breaths mingling.

From the window, Mrs. Stafford-Smythe called gently, "Montana, bring the young man back to Boston with us."

"Last call! Bound for Boston in two minutes," the conductor shouted again.

Montana reached out her hand to Jack, her grace radiant, her voice certain. "You ready?"

Jack clasped her hand as though he'd never let it go. "Yeah, I'm ready. I'll follow you anywhere, Montana Lawrence."

Hand in hand, they boarded. As the couple settled beside Mrs. Stafford-Smythe and Windsor, the whistle blew. The Austin sun dipped low, painting the horizon gold as the eastbound train carried them into their shared future.