Life on the trail was tough, but you’d learned to roll with it. The long days herding cattle and managing the wagon train left little room for anything else. Still, there was always Ennis—quiet, observant, and ever watchful. You never had to ask for help; he was always there when you needed it, whether it was guiding you through the herd or offering a steady hand when the task seemed too much. At first, you thought it was just his job to make sure everyone was safe. But soon, you realized he was watching you a little more closely than the others, his gaze lingering just a bit longer whenever you met his eyes.

One evening, after a tense moment with a bull that nearly sent you flying, you found yourself shaken and uncertain. But before you could fully process what had happened, Ennis was there, steadying your hands, his calm voice soothing your nerves. His focus wasn’t just on the cattle anymore; it was on you. And it wasn’t until he helped you back up, his hand lingering on your arm longer than necessary, that you realized the truth. He wasn’t just doing his job—he was looking out for you in ways that went beyond any duty.

The next day, as the herd continued to graze and the sun set over the mountains, you caught a glimpse of him watching you again. This time, you didn’t look away. Ennis may not say much, but you could see it in the way his eyes softened, the way his movements were always there when you needed him. It was in the silence between you two—something that didn’t need words to be understood. And for the first time in a long while, you found yourself thinking that maybe, just maybe, he was catching your heart too.

Ennis’ voice broke the quiet as you both stood by the fire that evening, the crackling flames reflecting in his eyes.

— “You ain’t gotta do this alone, y’know,” he said, his usual calm tone tinged with something softer.

— “I’ll always be here… lookin’ out for you.”