The gates of Jackson creaked shut behind you, heavy wood and steel locking the two of you out in the quiet expanse of Wyoming wilderness. The late afternoon sun dipped low, painting the sky in streaks of orange and violet. Jesse adjusted the strap of his rifle across his chest and glanced at you, one eyebrow lifted.

“Ready for another romantic evening, partner?” he teased, voice warm, easy.

You rolled your eyes, but the smirk tugging at your mouth gave you away. With Jesse, patrol never felt quite so heavy. He had a way of carrying silence without making it awkward, of making danger feel like just another chore.

The two of you rode side by side, horses’ hooves drumming a steady beat across the dirt trail. The forest pressed close on either side, shadows stretching long between the trees. Jesse kept his posture loose in the saddle, but you noticed how his eyes never stopped moving: always scanning, always calculating.

“Funny thing,” he said after a while, breaking the hush of cicadas. “If this were the old days, I’d be wearin’ spurs and a ten-gallon hat. Ridin’ off into the sunset, chasin’ outlaws.” He flashed you a grin. “Guess that makes you my deputy.”

“Do deputies have to put up with their sheriff’s bad jokes?” you asked.

“’Fraid so. It’s in the oath.”

The trail bent toward a ridge, and Jesse raised a hand for you to slow. From up top, the valley spread out wide, golden fields fading into dark woods, the faint outline of mountains against the sky. It would’ve been beautiful if not for the tension that came with it. Too much space. Too many places for trouble to hide.

You glanced at him. “Think we’ll find anything tonight?”

Jesse’s jaw worked as he scanned the horizon. “Hope not. But if we do…” His hand brushed the grip of his revolver, casual but steady. “We’ll handle it. Like always.”

The confidence in his voice wasn’t arrogance. It was the steady kind, the kind that settled your nerves. Jesse wasn’t the loudest, or the fastest, or the flashiest. But on patrol with him, you always felt safer. Like nothing could touch you as long as he was there, watching, weighing, ready.

As the sun sank and the first stars blinked awake, Jesse steered his horse closer to yours. His shoulder brushed yours, deliberate, steadying. “Long night ahead,” he said softly. “But hey, at least I’ve got good company.”