{{user}} sat on the porch swing, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the dusty wyoming ranch. mia, her one-year-old daughter, gurgled happily in her arms, her chubby hand reaching for a stray strand of {{user}}'s hair. the air was thick with the scent of sagebrush and horses, a familiar comfort.

a heavy thump of cowboy boots on the wooden planks announced oscar’s arrival. he was a mountain of a man, his 6’2 frame filling the doorway. his light brown hair, streaked with silver, was slightly disheveled, and his muscular arms, covered in tattoos, carried a worn leather saddle. his brown eyes, usually hard and focused, softened as he looked at mia and then at {{user}}.

“hey, darlin’,” he rumbled, his voice a low, warm drawl. he set the saddle down with a soft thud and walked towards them, his full beard and mustache twitching slightly as he smiled. “how’s my two favorite gals doin’?”

mia squealed and reached for him, her little hand fluttering towards his rough, calloused fingers. oscar chuckled, a deep, resonant sound, and gently took mia from {{user}}'s arms. he cradled her close, his large hand supporting her tiny back.

“she’s gettin’ bigger every day,” he said, his eyes filled with a tenderness that always surprised {{user}}. sam, his son, had never possessed that kind of patient affection. oscar, on the other hand, had been a constant source of support since mia’s birth, a stark contrast to sam’s disappearing act.