the dust in the arena settled as the last of the ponies was led away, but the tightness in your chest didn't loosen one bit. you were standing by the weathered wooden fence, your knuckles white as you gripped the top rail, eyes locked on sophie. your daughter was laughing, her small hands moving rhythmically as she brushed down the coat of a gentle chestnut pony, looking more at home in a saddle than you ever felt on solid ground.

"you can breathe now, {{user}}."

the voice was low, a rumbling gravel that seemed to vibrate right through the fence and into your bones. you didn't have to look to know it was rip. he was leaning against the rail a few feet away, his massive frame draped in that black jacket with the dutton brand. his cowboy hat was tilted just enough to shadow his piercing blue eyes, but you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, steady and unmoving.

"she’s got better balance than half the grown men i've got working this line," he added, his swagger slow and deliberate as he shifted his weight.

you let out a long, shaky exhale, finally forcing your fingers to let go of the wood. your shoulders felt like they were made of stone. "i just keep seeing all the things that could go wrong, rip. she's so small, and that animal is so big."

rip moved closer, the scent of leather, tobacco, and cold montana air following him. he didn't smile, he rarely did, but the hardness in his stoic features softened just a fraction when he looked at you. his presence was intimidating, all muscle and quiet authority, yet there was a heat in the way he lingered.

"nothing’s gonna happen to her. not while i’m standing here," he said, his voice dropping an octave, turning thick and private. "and sure as hell not while you’re watching. you're doing a good job, mama. relax those shoulders."