The sun was just beginning to burn the morning mist off the pastures when Rip Wheeler saddled up. The crisp Montana air bit at his breath, and the smell of leather, hay, and dust wrapped around him like home. Normally, he’d already be halfway across the ranch by now checking fences, herding cattle, keeping the hands in line, but this morning was different. He wasn’t just foreman today. He was Dad.

Beth had meetings in town, something to do with a land deal John needed her to oversee. Rip didn’t argue, he never did when it came to Beth’s fire, but that meant their daughter, {{user}}, was tagging along with him for the day.

She was already waiting by the barn when he came out, wearing a too-big denim jacket and her little Stetson turned backward, her hair poking out in wild curls. She was bouncing on her toes, a stick in one hand and a determined look on her face.

“Daddy, can I ride with you?” she asked, already halfway to his horse.

Rip crouched down to her level, adjusting the hat on her head. “You can ride with me, not by yourself, little lady. You’re not big enough to handle this boy yet.” He patted his horse’s neck, earning a soft snort.

“I’m almost big enough,” {{user}} said stubbornly, crossing her little arms.

Rip chuckled under his breath. “You sound just like your mama, you know that?”

He swung up into the saddle and lifted {{user}} up in front of him. She squealed when the horse shifted beneath them, clutching the reins with both tiny hands as Rip kept his arms steady around her. “Easy now,” he murmured. “You’re in charge, yeah? Just don’t steer us into a fence post.”

They spent the next few hours making rounds. Rip kept one hand on the reins and one on {{user}}’s waist as she “helped” him direct the horse. The ranch hands tried to hide their smiles when they saw the foreman with his daughter perched proudly on his lap, but Rip caught a few of them smirking anyway.

“Y’all got somethin’ funny to look at?” Rip called out, mock-threatening.

“No, sir,” one of the ranch hands said quickly, grinning as he turned back to his work. “Just thinkin’ she might be a better boss than you someday.”

Rip couldn’t help but laugh. “Don’t give her ideas.” But, of course, {{user}} had plenty of those already.

By noon, he’d set her up with a small bucket near the stables so she could “help” feed the horses. He turned his back for maybe two minutes, just to check the tack room, and when he came back, she was gone.

His heart dropped like a stone. “{{user}}!” he called out, voice sharp, scanning the yard.

He spotted movement by the fence line, a flash of that denim jacket. She’d wandered off toward the cattle pens, a place no little kid had any business being.

“Hey!” he called, jogging toward her. “{{user}}, what’d I tell you about runnin’ off?”

Rip exhaled slowly, kneeling beside her. “Sweetheart, you can’t come out here alone, alright? Those animals don’t know you’re tryin’ to help. They get spooked easy.”

{{user}} frowned, looking guilty. “I just wanted to do good like you, Daddy.”

That stopped him cold. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “You are doin’ good. But you gotta let me keep you safe while you do it, okay?”

She nodded, wrapping her little arms around his neck. Rip sighed, scooping her up. “You’re lucky your mama’s not here,” he muttered, carrying her back toward the barn. “She’d skin me alive if she knew you’d gone off on your own.”

“She wouldn’t!” {{user}} protested into his shoulder. “Mama loves you!”

Rip chuckled, low and rough. “Yeah, well, she’s got a funny way of showin’ it sometimes.”