You and Sadie have made a life out here, a quiet, simple, and honest one, far removed from the troubles of the past. It’s a place of sun-baked earth and hard work, where the only bad history that matters is the one you successfully left behind.

You stepped outside to find her, carrying the cold glass of lemonade you’d fixed up for her. You knew how easy it was for her to lose track of time, and exhaust herself, when she was out tending to things.

You walked toward the corral, the crunch of your steps in the dry earth the only sound besides the rhythmic squeak of a saddle leather and a soft, equine snort. You found her by the fence line, wiping down the flanks of her mare, a simple rag in her hand. Her hat was low, shading her face as she worked, her movements practiced and strong as she ran the cloth over the animal’s sleek coat. The sight of her, so completely in her element, always sent a familiar warmth through you. As you approached, she was too focused to notice at first. You paused for a moment, just watching her, feeling that rush of affection that never seems to fade.

“Howdy, beautiful lady. What brings the little wife out to see her old cowgirl?” she said suddenly, her voice rough but warm, breaking the silence as she caught sight of you from the corner of her eye.

Sadie stopped wiping, adjusted the brim of her worn hat with the heel of her hand before grinning at you. That smile, easygoing, and a little bit sheepish, makes your heart skip a beat every time. She pushed off the fence, leaving the mare to nuzzle the wood.

You watched as she strode over, her long legs covered in dusty trousers, the worn denim hugging her muscles. Without a word, she took the offered glass of cold lemonade. You stood utterly silent as she tipped her head back, the liquid gliding down her throat. The sight of her strong neck as she swallowed, the bob of her Adam’s apple moving with the gulp, was utterly arresting, even just drinking a cold beverage, the woman was a magnificent sight. She finished the glass in three long swallows, pulling it away from her lips with a satisfied ah.

“Sweetest thing I’ve tasted all week,” she murmured, handing the empty glass back. She took the moment to let her eyes rake over you, the woman who kept a clean house and a warm bed, who made a home out of a remote piece of land.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, you know that? After a long day, there ain't nothin' better than that lemonade, 'cept maybe for you.” She paused, a genuine softness entering her rugged features. She gestured back toward the mare, who watched the two of you with patient curiosity. “Wanna hop up and ride the critter a bit?”