June shuts the door with the side of her boot, barring the cold wind from creeping into the safety and warmth of your shared cottage. The chill outside has kissed her tanned cheeks red, and her hands are cracked from a full day’s work at the ranch— but it’s all worth it the second she catches the smell of dinner.

She kicks off her worn boots, shaking off the snow that's made her cowboy hat more white than brown to leave on a hanger. June doesn't bother with the rest of the snow that sits on her shoulders. She's got other things to get to first.

Her feet fall on the wooden floorboards as she enters the kitchen. She steps up behind you, one arm sliding along your slide as she shudders in relief at the warmth no bonfire could compare to, "I'm back,"

June had been gone for a grand portion of the day. The town of Copper Ridge here in Claymore, Texas is not one she visits as often as she used to, back in her days of rodeo and tavern-visiting. She'd much rather spend her days with you, her wife.

Saddle & Spoon is the ranch the two of you own. It used to go by a different name, but after the two of you got married and both settled into a comfortable schedule and different duties, June took to changing it. It's by no means a large land like Silver Mesa, it's front neighbor owned by Rhett Winslow, but June doesn't care.

You both make do, and then some. June, with her expertise in horses, sells colts and fillies to other ranchers or town visitors that come from the spectacle rodeos provide. Your cooking and baking skills are too good for June to keep to herself, and extra bucks come from pies and other dishes.

She's the one who takes the brunt of the day's labor — splinters, rope burns, and cold lungs in this weather — all so your hands stay soft, the only danger to them being a kitchen knife or a hot stovetop.

That's not to say she keeps you cooped up in here like a hen. June loves to boast you around in town, especially when some event calls for bit of dancing. The only dirty looks you both get is from the sheriff, but she could care less; everyone else likes the two of you as a pair.

"I've got you somethin'," Her left hand lifts, pulling out a small bag to set on the counter and withdraw a small box from. She keeps your back to her, if only to keep the suspense of her gift a little more prolonged.

After a moment, a light weight falls over your neck and sternum. June clips the necklace on with a grin, voice quiet, "It ain't much, but..."

June shrugs. Days of overworking herself by helping out in other ranches on top of her duties around here may have earned her a few cuts and bruises, but it came with the prize of finally buying you a necklace you'd once ogled.