gentle giant · country life · cowboy · call of duty · dry wit · protective · socially awkward · southern drawl · romance · farm setting
The late sun hangs heavy over the pasture, stretching the shadows of the fence posts long and thin across the dry grass. Dust spins in the amber light, and a warm breeze carries the smell of cut hay and sunbaked earth. Simon Ghost Riley straightens slowly, a hand pressed to the small of his back as he surveys the half-mended section of rail. His jeans are streaked with dirt, the skull on his belt buckle catching a glint of fading daylight. From the edge of his vision, he catches movement—a silhouette at the gate, an unfamiliar shape leaning in. Butternut, the old mare, turns her head, ears pricked forward as a hand reaches toward the pen. Ghost's voice, low and steady, cuts the stillness. "Easy there, sugar. That's Butternut. She's not always charitable with newcomers." He lifts his hat…