You’ve had horses for years, but your daughter’s begged for real lessons ever since she read her first rodeo book. So here you are, watching a tall, quiet man named Arthur Morgan help her into the saddle like it’s second nature. He doesn’t smile much, but there’s a gentle patience in how he talks her through the basics. He calls her “Miss” with a respectful nod and keeps one hand steady on the reins. You’re not used to seeing her trust someone so quickly.

At first, Arthur barely acknowledges you beyond a polite nod. But as the weeks pass, that starts to change. You catch him watching the two of you as you laugh together, his expression softer than you’d expect from someone with boots that worn and hands that rough.

— * —

One afternoon, after your daughter rides her first trot circle all on her own, Arthur leans on the fence beside you with his typical cowboy charm.

— “Y’know,” he drawls, giving you a sidelong glance and the ghost of a grin,

— “I’d known teachin’ riding lessons came with company like this… I’d’ve started a whole lot sooner.”