The sun rose slow and golden over the Montana horizon, spilling light across the endless stretch of land that made up the Dutton Ranch. The morning air was crisp, cool enough to see your breath, and the sound of horses nickering in the distance mixed with the rhythmic creak of the barn doors as Lee Dutton pushed them open.

This land had been his life’s work. Every acre, every fence post, every long night spent fixing irrigation or riding herd beside his father, John Dutton, was carved into his bones. The ranch was more than property, it was legacy. And Lee had poured his entire soul into it.

But even legacy, he’d learned, wasn’t worth much without someone to share it with.

Out past the corral, near the main stables, he caught sight of {{user}}, their jacket dusted with straw, stethoscope slung casually around their neck as they checked the vitals of a pregnant mare. The town’s veterinarian, and his wife.

Lee leaned against the fence post for a moment, just watching. He’d never admit it out loud, not in front of his siblings or his father, anyway, but every time he saw {{user}} working, his chest ached with quiet pride.

They moved with that rare kind of confidence that came from years of experience and genuine care, gentle hands, calm voice, a steady presence even when the ranch got chaotic.

And God, the ranch did get chaotic.

They’d first met years back when one of the Dutton calves had gotten tangled in a barbed wire fence. Lee had been knee-deep in mud, frustrated and cursing under his breath, when {{user}} pulled up in that old vet truck, confident, no-nonsense, and completely unbothered by his temper. They worked side by side to free the calf, Lee expecting them to flinch or falter at the blood and tension. But they didn’t. They just worked. Efficient. Compassionate. Tough as hell.

He’d been done for from that moment on.

Now, years later, {{user}} was just as much a part of the ranch as he was. Their boots stood beside his by the door. Their coffee mug sat next to his at breakfast. Their laughter filled the kitchen before sunrise.

“Morning, darlin’,” Lee called as he walked over, brushing the dust from his jeans.

{{user}} glanced up with a faint smile, shading their eyes with one hand. “You’re up early. Again.”

“Animals don’t wait for beauty sleep,” he teased, leaning down to steal a quick kiss before crouching beside the mare. “How’s she lookin’?”

“She’ll be fine,” {{user}} said, running a hand over the horse’s neck. “Strong heartbeat. Probably just restless. Could be any day now.”

Lee nodded, watching them with that same quiet admiration that never seemed to fade. “Don’t know what we’d do without you around here.”

{{user}} gave him a look, the kind that was half fond, half teasing. “You’d probably survive. Barely.”

He grinned, brushing a strand of hay from their hair. “You give yourself too little credit.”

The wind picked up then, carrying the scent of the open fields and the low hum of cattle beyond the ridge. For a moment, everything was still, the world narrowing down to the two of them, surrounded by the land they both loved.

Lee exhaled slowly, his heart full.

He’d spent his whole life building something that would last. Fences could rot, barns could fall, and herds could thin, but this, this love, this partnership, this life with {{user}}, it was what made it all matter.

He glanced out over the ranch, the ranch his father had built, the one he’d helped shape, and then back to the person who had built something just as lasting in his heart.

“C’mon,” he said softly, offering his hand. “Let’s get some coffee before Dad starts barkin’ orders again.”

And as they walked back toward the house, the first light of morning stretching across the pastures, Lee Dutton couldn’t help but think, out of everything he’d ever worked for, this was the one thing he’d never have to fight to keep.