"Fine. Got everything we needed." He dismounted and started unloading the supplies, trying to act normal, even though his heart was hammering. They worked together to put everything away, and then Ayla went to wash up while Wyatt fed the horses. By the time she came back, the sun was setting, and the sky was that particular shade of purple that only happened in spring.
"Walk with me," Wyatt asked. "Wyatt, what?" She looked surprised, but nodded. They headed out past the corral toward the ridge where they'd stood weeks ago, looking out at the valley. The evening air was cool, but not cold, and the first stars were beginning to appear.
When they reached the top, Wyatt stopped and turned to face her. "I got you something in town," he said. "Wyatt, you didn't have to." "I know, but I wanted to." He pulled the small cloth bundle from his pocket and handed it to her.
Ayla unwrapped it slowly, her eyes widening when she saw the ring. "Wyatt, it's not a proposal," he said quickly. Not in the traditional sense. Anyway, I know we haven't known each other that long, and I know you've got your own path to walk. But I want you to have it as a promise.
"A promise of what?" That you've got a place here. That you're not alone. That whatever comes next, we face it together if you want to. Ayla's eyes filled with tears.
She slipped the ring onto her finger, and it fit perfectly. "I want to," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "I want that more than anything." Wyatt pulled her into his arms, and she held on to him tight. They stood there on the ridge as the stars came out, two people who'd been broken and lost, finding something whole in each other.
The weeks that followed were some of the happiest of Wyatt's life. The ranch thrived under their combined efforts. The garden came in strong, and they sold vegetables in town for a decent profit. The cattle were healthy, and Wyatt managed to buy three more head to expand the herd. Ayla proved to have a knack for training horses, and word spread.
People started bringing their unbroken mounts to the ranch, paying good money for her to gentle them. They fell into a rhythm that felt natural, inevitable. Mornings were for hard work, afternoons for repairs and planning, evenings for sitting together and talking or just being quiet. They laughed more, touched more. The boundaries between them, already thin, dissolved completely.
One night in June, after a long day of branding calves, they sat by the fire. Ayla was leaning against Wyatt's shoulder, his arm around her, and he realized with a start that he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this content. "What are you thinking about?" she asked. "How different things are now. How much better."