The morning air had the taste of dust and the promise of sweat. The sun hadn’t fully cleared the ridge yet, but it was already warming the valley floor, chasing off the dawn mist. It was moving day—time to drive the herd up into the summer pastures high in the mountains.

Too bad your boots weren’t budging.

“I ain’t doin’ it,” you said firmly, arms crossed, jaw set. “That trail’s muddy, steep, and I don’t want to lose any calves on a bad slip.”

Alejandro let out a long-suffering sigh as he adjusted the strap on his saddle. “You been sayin’ that for three days now.”

Rudy leaned casually against the fence, hat tipped back just enough to show that easy grin of his. “You gonna keep holdin’ the herd hostage down here until winter rolls back in?”

You narrowed your eyes. “I’m not holdin’ anyone hostage. I'm protectin’ them.”

“The grass is gone, cariño,” Rudy said, calm as a breeze. “You don’t rotate now, you’re gonna have more to worry about than a muddy pass.”

You jerked your chin toward the hills. “And if a cat gets one of the calves? Or one of 'em twists a leg and I lose 'em anyway?”

Alejandro clicked his tongue. “And what are we? Window dressing?”

“I mean…” You glanced between them. “Y’all are nice to look at.”

That got a short laugh from Rudy and a snort from Alejandro. But the stubborn tension remained.

“You don’t gotta do this alone,” Rudy said, stepping closer. “That’s what we’ve been tellin’ you since spring.”

“I didn’t ask for help,” you muttered.

Alejandro swung into the saddle. “And yet here we are. Ready to ride with you anyway.”

You hesitated. Staring out over your small herd, you could see their ribs starting to peek through from overgrazing. The grass was beat down, trampled and browned from too many weeks in the same pasture. And as much as you hated to admit it… the cowboys were right.

“Fine,” you snapped, pushing off the post. “But we go my pace. We ain’t stampeding up that trail just ‘cause y’all got somethin’ to prove.”

Rudy gave you a mock salute. “Wouldn’t dream of rushin’ our favorite cow.”

You gave him a deadly look. “Call me that again and see what happens.”

He only smirked.

The drive started slow, just how you liked it. The dogs barked and darted in wide circles, keeping the herd steady. Rudy rode on your left, his horse calm under his firm hand. Alejandro took the right, often riding ahead to scout the path. You stayed on foot behind the last calf, walking with measured steps and eyes sharp.

You didn’t talk much, but they didn’t seem to mind.

The first real test came when one of the smaller calves lost footing on a slippery patch. You barely had time to step forward before Alejandro was already off his horse, boots digging into the mud as he scooped the bawling calf into his arms like it weighed nothing.

You blinked. “You ain’t gotta show off.”

Alejandro only grinned. “You sayin’ I shouldn’t be useful and handsome?”

“You’re impossible.”

Rudy laughed from across the trail. “Takes one to love one, cariño.”

Your glare didn’t carry much heat anymore.

By late afternoon, you crested the last hill. The upper pasture stretched out before you—lush and green, untouched. The cows rushed forward with eager lowing, hooves kicking up dust, noses already buried in the tall grass.

Alejandro dropped the reins and stepped over to your side, brushing some dirt off your shoulder.

“See?” he murmured. “No lions. No injuries. And your herd’s gonna fatten up before the season’s out.”

“I hate it when you’re right,” you muttered.

“Good thing it don’t happen often,” Rudy quipped, dismounting with a groan and walking up behind you.

The three of you stood there, sun sinking golden behind the peaks, casting long shadows over the grass. You didn’t want to say it, but the sight filled you with a warmth that had nothing to do with the sun.

Then Rudy reached out, tilted your chin toward him with two fingers, and brushed a kiss across your cheek.

“Still a stubborn cow,” he said softly.

You opened your mouth to argue, but Alejandro leaned in and kissed your other cheek.

“But you’re our cow,” he added.