Echoes of Generations - Ch 17

Women Rise with a Legacy That Won’t Be Silenced

Image created by Marylee in Canva

The women gathered on Riley’s expansive veranda as the air shifted slightly, cooling them after laboring over Riley’s jumbo pots of flowers and perennials. The scent of freshly watered plants and soil mingled with the rich aroma of dark red wine recently opened to breathe.

Riley stretched her legs out, sipping her wine. “I can’t thank you all enough. You made quick work on what would have taken me much of the day.”

“I enjoyed myself, Riley. Gardening’s a good excuse to slow down and think.” Val walked over to get a glass of lemonade. “I’d better have more of this before diving into the wine. Can I get you something?”

Skylar and Riley shook their heads.

Skylar leaned back in her chair. “Speaking of thinking… what do you hear from Quinn these days?”

Riley tilted her head. “She called this morning. She’s happy enough, I think. But something feels… off.”

Skylar’s brow lifted. “Off how?”

“She tells me about all these amazing sites and trips, but she’s always alone. If I ask about Robbie, she just says she’s busy and changes the subject.”

“That is strange,” Skylar murmured. “They should still be in their honeymoon phase.”

Val nudged Skylar with a grin. “You should know, Skylar. You’ve got a keeper in Jim. He’d move heaven and earth for you.”

Skylar chuckled, taking a sip of wine. “I have been incredibly lucky. Later in life or not, a good man is a fortunate find.”

Val sighed. “Relationships are complicated, no matter the age.”

Skylar exhaled. “That’s the thing. Women like us—we spent years proving ourselves to get a seat at the table.”

Riley leaned forward, swirling her wine glass. “When I started my architecture business, men called me ‘ambitious’ as if it was a bad thing. Like I should be grateful for whatever clients they sent my way.”

Skylar smirked. “Try being one of the first Black female archaeologists in the country. I lost count of how often men assumed I was the assistant, intern, and note-taker. And if I spoke up? I was ‘aggressive’ or ‘too emotional.’”

Val nodded. “In medicine, women are invisible by default. But when you get older? You become a shadow. I watched patients in their seventies and eighties get dismissed outright—as if their lives and needs no longer matter.”

Skylar glanced at her. “You must have seen it all in nursing.”

Val sighed. “I did. And I lived it, too.” She traced the rim of her glass. “After Steve died… people just stopped asking about me. Being a widow meant I no longer had a future. Like I was supposed to fade away or hurry out and find another man.”

The group went quiet.

“I’m sorry, Val,” Riley said softly.

Val managed a small smile. “It’s been years now. But I still notice how people talk around me instead of to me. The way women my age disappear from the world unless they’re someone’s grandmother or a charity case.”

Riley shook her head. “That’s frustratingly true. And yet, the world expects us just to accept it.”

Val exhaled. “We spend our lives caring for others, and when we finally have time for ourselves, society acts like we don’t exist.”

Skylar shook her head. “That’s exactly it. No matter what we’ve built or how much we’ve done—we must fight to be seen.” Skylar huffed. “Well, they’ll have to get used to the fact that we’re not going anywhere.” ”

“And what’s ridiculous,” Val continued, voice steadier now, “is that society adores old things— a finely aged wine, an antique table, vintage jewelry. We call them treasures. We admire how they’ve stood the test of time.”

She took a slow sip of lemonade before adding, “But when it comes to people? We’re just… old. Irrelevant. Feeble. Like our pasts don’t matter. And no matter how vital we are now, we don’t matter.”

Skylar let out a quiet breath. “That’s exactly it. No matter what we’ve built or how much we’ve done, or doing, we must fight to be seen.”

Val nodded. “And that’s what Whitman’s doing. He’s trying to make Raven invisible. Irrelevant. He wants to rewrite the rules so people like him are the only ones who count.”

Riley’s fingers tightened around her glass. “They always do.”

She set the glass down. “Men like Whitman? They may talk smoother and dress sharper, but they’re cut from the same cloth. They want control. They want to be the ones who decide who gets to belong.”

Skylar raised her glass. “Then I say we remind him whose world this is.”

The others grinned and clinked their glasses together in agreement.

A knock on the back gate interrupted them.

Let the fiction speak—and the reflection carry you forward. Paid subscribers receive insight that helps the story land where it matters most: your own life.

Channing’s voice rang out. “You’re not conspiring against us older millennials, are you?”

Cameron laughed as they stepped climbed the stairs to the veranda. “Channing’s just upset she wasn’t invited to the wine-and-wisdom session.”

Riley laughed at the younger women. “Always room at the table. Grab a glass.”

They settled in, listening as the older women shared their experiences.

After a moment, Channing shook her head. “I hear everything you’re saying. But in my case, I’ve had a way easier time coming out than some of my friends twenty or thirty years older. It’s still not perfect, but at least we can exist in public without losing jobs, housing, or our safety.”

Val folded her arms. “That’s progress, but it still stings knowing how long it took to get there.”

Cameron nodded. “It’s different, but it’s still there, quieter, coded. It’s the ‘Who wears the pants in your house?’ or ‘Is your family ok with it?’ comments. We’ve come far, but not far enough.”

Skylar exhaled. “That’s the thing. Every generation pushes the walls back a little more. But they’re still there.”

Ready to move to lighter subjects, Val smiled, then glanced toward the horizon. “Any idea when our cowboys will be back?”

Riley checked her watch. “Before we run out of wine, I’m sure.” She exhaled. “I just hope they’re having a good time.”

Cameron hesitated. “You think Whitman showed up?”

Before anyone could reply, the sound of boots on the gravel path made them turn.

Ben, Raven, and Shikáni stepped into the light, bringing the scent of horses and leather and a trail of dust from the canyon floor.

“Well, if it isn’t the war council,” Ben drawled, smirking as he set his hat on the table.

Without a word, Shikáni poured three glasses of lemonade and dropped onto the couch beside Skylar after handing the cold drinks to Raven and Ben.

“We were just strategizing,” Riley said lightly.

Ben arched a brow. “Oh? And here I thought you were waiting to see if we had a good time at the exhibition.”

Val chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure you had a blast.” She gestured toward them. “Let’s hear it.”

Ben leaned back with a grin. “Well, you should’ve seen Raven in that ridiculous trust obstacle course.”

Raven scoffed. “Ridiculous? I won.”

Shikáni, sipping her cold drink, finally spoke. “After nearly falling off.”

The room erupted into laughter.

“Please tell me there’s a VID of that,” Riley said.

“None that will ever see the light of day,” Raven shot back.

Ben shook his head, still grinning. “And Shikáni? Let’s just say she had an entire audience holding their breath when she ran that last stretch with Téhsa.”

Shikáni’s lips barely moved. “He did well.”

Raven laughed. “Which means he was perfect, and she won’t admit it.”

Another round of shared amusement swept through the group.

Then, Riley leaned forward, fingers laced, expression turning serious.

“And Whitman?”

The air shifted.

Gone was the laughter.

The weight returned.

Ben ran a hand over his jaw. “Oh, he was there,” he said evenly. “And he was pretty rude to Raven. Snide, subtle comments. He’s working his way more deeply into Sabáka.”

Raven’s voice was calm. Too calm. “If he gains traction there, it’s only a matter of time before he starts reshaping things in his image—pushing out anyone who doesn’t fit.”

Skylar exhaled sharply. “That’s exactly what I was saying earlier. Letting him define what ‘real training’ looks like won’t just hurt Raven. It’ll erase everything she’s built.”

Raven folded her arms. “So, what’s the plan?”

Riley grabbed her notepad, tapping her pen against it.“Alright. Let’s talk strategy.”

“We need real people backing you up, Raven. Testimonials from your past trainees, people who’ve benefited from your work. If we get enough credible voices, his whole ‘serious trainers’ argument crumbles.”

Val nodded, looking at Raven. “You and Sam know the riders who trained under you. If they’ve got success stories, we put them front and center.”

Raven nodded. “And I can call in my media people. They’ve been pestering me about the ranch for months—I’ve been putting them off, so they’ll be ready to listen.”

Skylar grabbed Riley’s paper, the glint in her eyes unmistakable. “I still have a few friends who owe me favors.”

Riley’s eyes narrowed. “Subtle or aggressive?”

Skylar took a slow sip of wine, then set her glass down with a deliberate clink. “Both.”

Shikáni, silent until now, finally spoke. “He doesn’t belong in Sabáka. And our people need to be reminded of that, Raven.”

Raven met her gaze. “You think they’ll stand against him?”

“I think they’ll stand for what’s right. But they have to see what’s happening first. My mother was there today. She saw.”

A warm glow passed between Raven and Skylar—pride, certainty, a spark of something bigger.

The air turned so silent you only heard the crickets chirping.

Val frowned. “Wait,” she exclaimed suddenly. “We’re thinking too small. Most of Raven’s clients aren’t even from the Southwest. Whitman’s little ‘inner circle’ isn’t relevant to her success.”

Skylar’s face lit up. “You’re right. Why didn’t we think of that before? Your connections are global. We don’t need to fight him in his world—we don’t need to fight him at all. We need to demonstrate the support for you on a global basis.”

Raven smiled, excitement blossoming over her face. “William McNab is ready to step in. The Prince offered to help.”

Channing snapped her fingers. “Then let’s show the world what Raven’s training really does. I can set up holographic interviews with clients and their horses before and after her training. We don’t just push back. We make him irrelevant.”

Ben raised an eyebrow, “It’s a strong plan. Just be sure it doesn’t turn into a spectacle that gives him more fuel. Some people latch onto controversy more than the truth."

Riley grinned. “That’s a good thought, Ben. Thanks. It sounds like we are all set.”

Raven glances around at the women beside her, she catches Ben’s eye. He gives a small nod—approval, respect, and maybe even a touch of admiration. He’s been around long enough to know when a battle is already won.

The group sat back, the plan taking shape, the weight of it settling in.

Whitman had his connections, his influence, and his arrogance.

But Raven had something more potent.

She glanced around the veranda at everyone beside her.

And she knew, without a doubt—

This was her world, shaped by generations of women who had won more incredible confrontations long before this one.

I’d love to hear what you think about the plan to counter Whitman’s distressing aggression against Raven. Please use the comment link below!