the dust in the round pen settled as the young colt finally found its rhythm, following the gentle pressure of rip’s lead rope. he stepped out of the ring, his black jacket with the yellowstone y catching the last of the montana sun. he adjusted the brim of his hat, his piercing blue eyes finding you where you stood leaning against the wooden fence. your daughter was still perched on a hay bale nearby, eyes wide with wonder as she watched the horse.

"you're very good with them," you noted softly, shifting your weight. the breeze caught your hair, and you felt a familiar heat crawl up your neck as his gaze lingered on you for a second too long. "the horses, i mean. and the kids."

rip wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, the movement highlighting the strength in his shoulders before he rested a hand near the gun strapped to his hip. he didn't smile, he rarely did, but there was a softness in his expression that he seemed to reserve only for this moment.

"horses are easy. you just have to be consistent," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate in the cool evening air. "people... people are the ones that are complicated."

he leaned against the rail next to you, his large frame a grounding presence. he was a man of iron and ink, a shadow of the ranch, yet he stood there yearning for a conversation he didn't know how to start.

"she's a natural," he added, nodding toward your daughter. "got her mama's stillness. most folks are too loud for a colt this jumpy."