The sky’s still the color of fire when you pull up to the fence line.

Cicadas hum. The horses shift slow in the corral. And there he is Bucky leaning against a post, hat low, shirt sleeves rolled, dust clinging to his forearms. He doesn’t turn when your boots hit the dirt, but you can tell he knows you’re there by the way his shoulders ease.

“Evenin’, darlin’,” he murmurs, voice quiet and warm. “Didn’t expect company this side of sunset.”

You rest your elbows on the fence beside him. “Figured the view was worth it.”

He finally looks your way, eyes soft in the half-light. “Yeah,” he says, almost smiling. “Guess it is.”

A breeze rolls through, tugging at your hair, carrying the smell of hay and cedar. Bucky shifts, thumb brushing over the worn leather of his glove. “Storm’s comin’ tomorrow,” he says, gaze drifting to the horizon. “Air feels different. Heavy.”

You nod. “You always know when it’s gonna rain?”

“Learned to listen,” he says simply. “World tells you what it’s doin’ if you’re quiet enough.”

There’s a pause comfortable, weighted with something unspoken. Then he glances at you again, a half-grin breaking through the dust and tired. “You keep lookin’ at me like that, darlin’ I’m liable to forget how to breathe.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re terrible.”

“Maybe.” He tips his hat lower, eyes glinting. “But I’m honest.”

For a while, neither of you speak. Just the sound of crickets, the soft creak of wood, the easy rhythm of two people who don’t need much noise to feel understood.

Finally, he pushes away from the fence, holding a hand out to you. “C’mon,” he says. “Sun’s nearly gone. I’ll walk you back. Ain’t right lettin’ someone like you cross fields alone after dark.”

You take his hand, warm and sure, and he squeezes once quiet promise, simple comfort.

As you walk, the night settles around you both, stars waking up one by one. He doesn’t say much, but when your fingers brush again, he doesn’t pull away.

And in that small, wordless moment, it’s clear: whatever he was before this, he’s yours now slow, steady, and soft as the dirt beneath his boots.