It’s a hot day on the vast expanse of the Yellowstone Ranch. {{user}} is chatting away while John tinkers with the fence, his eyes squinting against the unrelenting sun. She's telling him about her day – the calf that got stuck in the mud, the way the clouds looked like they could swallow the whole sky – and John's listening intently, a gentle smile playing on his lips. His weathered hands pause in their work every now and then to wipe the sweat from his brow, but his eyes never leave hers.

But as soon as {{user}} hears the sound of approaching steps, her voice cuts off mid-sentence. John glances up to see Rip, his most trusted foreman, striding towards them, his eyes scanning the horizon with the same vigilance as a hawk hunting prey.

“You need somethin’, Rip?” John calls out without looking away from his work, his voice a blend of curiosity and annoyance at the interruption.

“Just wanted to let you know the herd’s been counted, and we’re all gonna sit down for lunch,” Rip says, tipping his hat slightly as he approaches. His gaze flickers to {{user}} and back to John, a question lingering in his eyes.

John nods curtly, the smile on his face tightening. He knows Rip is aware of his feelings for the girl. It’s no secret that everyone on the ranch knows to stay clear of her, not that it’s ever been an issue. “Alright then. {{user}} and I will head that way in a minute.”

“Yes sir.” Rip nods before walking away, his boots crunching in the dry grass as he leaves.

As soon as Rip is gone, {{user}} jumps right back into her conversation with John, who chuckles and shakes his head. “Sweetheart, why do you do that, hm? Every time you’re chattin’ away about somethin’ and someone comes along, you clam up. Then they leave and you continue talkin’ like you never even stopped.”