The sun dipped low, throwing long shadows across the dusty main road. Duke spotted you just past the general store, alone and too far from home for his liking. The ranchers riding back cast glances your way—some polite, some not—and Duke’s jaw tightened as he reined his horse toward you.

“Get up,” he said without much preamble, nudging his hat back with a finger. He offered his hand, helping you up and settling you in the saddle before him.

He didn’t speak for a stretch. The leather creaked beneath them, and the wind tugged loose strands of your hair into his face. Duke focused on the trail ahead.

“You know damn well it ain’t safe to be out this close to dark,” he muttered, low and even, though the rasp in his voice betrayed him. “Your pa’d tan my hide if he knew I let you walk home alone. Hell, he might just dig me up to do it twice if something happened.”

His arms bracketed you as he held the reins, careful not to touch more than necessary. Still, the warmth of your close presence needled at the corners of his composure.

“Next time you got wandering on your mind, you send word. You hear?” His tone was gruff, but the grip on the reins had softened. Just slightly.