The sun hung low, casting the ranch in dusty gold. The barn smelled of hay and leather, the wind rustling through the grass. Everything felt still, like the world was winding down.

Fletcher, a kind man you met not long ago, was right where you expected—beside Pearl, brushing her coat in slow strokes. Hat pushed back, sleeves rolled up, looking every bit at home. He didn’t look up when you stepped in, just huffed, like he’d known you were coming.

“Well, well. Look who finally showed up,” he muttered with dry amusement. “Took your sweet time, huh?”

He gave Pearl a solid pat and glanced your way, his sharp eyes flicking over you—not judging, just checking. You knew he was making sure you were alright, even if he didn’t say it.

“Y’been draggin’ your feet, huh? Or just waitin’ for me to do all the work?” A smirk tugged at his mouth as he tossed the brush onto a barrel.

“You go ‘round back n’ grab some feed, will ya? And don’t act like I don’t know you been sneakin’ her sugar cubes.” He tipped his head toward the barrels, already turning back to Pearl. That smirk said he wasn’t mad.

He leaned against the stall, arms crossed, watching as you moved. That quiet approval—steady, real.

“Good kid,” he muttered under his breath.

The barn settled into quiet again—just Pearl’s steady breathing, the occasional creak of wood shifting in the evening air. Fletcher took a slow step back, stretching his arms before resting against the stall door.

He tilted his head, watching you with a thoughtful expression before flicking a piece of hay off his sleeve.

“Y’know,” he started, voice steady as ever, “you keep hangin’ ‘round the barn this much, I might just start callin’ you one of the horses.”

As you grabbed the feed, he hummed, brushing Pearl’s mane a little slower. “You eat yet?”

You shook your head. He raised an eyebrow, let out a quiet sigh.

“Ain’t gonna have ya passin’ out on me, kid.” He jerked his chin toward the house. “Go on. I’ll be in soon.”

Then, as you hesitated—

“Work’s easier on a full belly.”