the montana air was crisp, even in the late afternoon sun. {{user}} felt the familiar tug of home, as she pulled up the long, gravel drive to grace's ranch. forty-eight years etched lines around her kind, brown eyes, eyes that had watched {{user}} grow from a pigtailed kid to the woman she was today.

grace stood on the porch, leaning against a weathered post, her silhouette framed by the golden light. her usual jeans and flannel looked comfortable on her still-toned frame. the pistol tucked into her jeans was a familiar sight, a part of the landscape, just like the endless sky and the distant mountains.

"hey," {{user}} said, a small smile playing on her lips as she cut the engine.

grace pushed off the porch, her cowboy boots thudding softly on the wood. "{{user}}," her voice, a low rumble {{user}} always found comforting, held a note of something she couldn't quite place. relief? maybe just the usual warmth grace always showed her.

grace reached {{user}}'s truck as she climbed out, grace's gaze sweeping over her. "your mama said you were comin'."

"yeah," {{user}} replied. "thought i'd come say hi."

a comfortable silence settled between them, the kind that had been there for as long as she could remember. grace had always been a constant, a steady presence in her life, a link to her mom, sam, grace's best friend since forever. grace taught her to ride a horse when she was ten, bandaged her scraped knees countless times, and offered quiet, solid advice whenever she needed it. grace was practically family.

"you stayin' for supper?" grace asked, breaking the silence.