The bus rolls to a stop, its engine letting out a low grumble before the doors swing open. The fairground lights flicker in the evening haze, casting long shadows over the bustling scene. The air is thick with the scent of fried food and the distant twang of carnival music. One by one, the dogs step off—Waylon and Floyd beeline for the food stands, Granny Rose settles onto a patch of grass with a satisfied grunt, and Zelda, unsurprisingly, stays put on the bus, stretching lazily.

Dixie steps down with practiced grace, her tail flicking as she takes in the fair with a slow, approving smile. The neon lights, the hum of excitement—it all suits her just fine.

Cash follows last, exhaling as he scans the grounds. No time for distractions. "I'll check the barn, make sure everything’s set up."

Without another word, he heads off, leaving the others to their own devices. The show comes first.