#1923 request

Curled up in front of the burning fireplace inside my family’s living room I had a good book sat on my legs. Snuggled up underneath one of the warm blankets while the cold and harsh winter winds blew outside the windows. Currently my parents were over at our friend's ranch that belonged to the Dutton’s. They were helping them get their herd to safety before the winter storm got worse.

Hearing a loud knock on the front door I jumped dropping my book onto the wooden floor not expecting anyone to be coming to see me when a harsh storm was heading for our part of Montana. The person knocked a few more times but I didn’t move from my spot till I heard a familiar deep voice call out my name. “Y/n! Y/n, it’s me Spencer.”

“What in god's name are you doing here so late. Didn’t your aunt tell you about the storm coming?” Unlocking the door once I had gotten up from the couch I allowed him inside seeing his clothes were nearly completely covered in snow.

He removed his boots knowing my mother hated tracking in snow and mud across the lodge. “I needed to see you. It’s too important than how mad my aunt will be angry with me about going out into a storm.”

“What could be so important that you’d risk your life for me in the freezing cold?” I asked my life long best friend who I knew like the back of my hand. For you see Spencer and I have been attached at the other's hip from the moment we could walk. My friends have been telling me for years that I needed to just marry and take his last name already.

He reached inside his jacket pocket revealing a letter that he extended out to me. “Read it, Y/n.”

“Spencer Dutton, the federal government has declared that your name has been drawn from the service draft and it is decided you offer your services and fight in the World War our nation faces.” Nearly dropping the paper from my hands I felt tears welling in my eyes at the thought of everything that the letter meant. This war has been long and harsh on everyone and now he could be one of the soldiers that die at its hands. “They drafted you. You - you can’t go fight.”

Spencer sent me a weak look telling me he didn’t want to go even though those weren’t the words that left his mouth. “I don’t have a choice, darling.”

“You can’t go - you can’t die before I get to tell you how I feel.” I clutched the paper in my hands, beginning to cry in front of him.

The Dutton man stared down at me closing the gap between us and crashed his lips down onto mine. I gasped, taken back by his forwardness, feeling my mind going to mush now only able to focus on how good it felt to kiss him. I truly had only ever imagined what it would feel like to kiss him, what it would be to be his wife, what it would be like to have his kids and raise them the way we have been raised on our family ranches.

Moving my hands up his chest my fingers threatened the fabric of his shirt bringing him closer. Spencer wrapped one arm around my waist, breaking the kiss and reconnecting our lips for another heated kiss until we needed air where I nearly felt like I couldn’t catch my breath.

“I love you too. I always have.” He declares meeting my gaze, resting his hands on my hips.

I giggled up at him. “You didn’t know that was what I was going to say.”

“I can tell by the way you kiss that’s how you feel.” Spencer points out with a smirk on his lips as he tugs me against his body more. “If you want me to stop right now I will. Just say the word and I will stop.”

Wrapping my arms around his neck I guided his lips down to meet mine once more. “For years I’ve attempted to push my feelings for you away, thinking you wouldn’t feel the same. But now that I know you do and I may lose you to this terrible war I don’t want to stop. I’d keep you here if I could so we can start our life together, Spencer Dutton.”

“I’d make you my wife and give you my last name right here and now if I didn’t have to go.” He rested his forehead down on mine and I sniffed through some tears before he wiped them away with his thumbs. He blinked his eyes briefly, changing his tone altogether. “To hell with that. If this is my one chance to call you mine I’m taking it.”

“Let me be yours tonight, Spencer.” I responded to him, grinning the biggest smile I ever had in my life.

I let out a yelp when he lifted me into his arms, I wrapped my arms around him and pressed my lips against his. He kissed me back passionately and he ran down the hallway to my bedroom. Kicking open the door, he walked towards the bed and dropped me down to the bed. My back hit the soft silk sheets before I rose up from the bed staring at him softly. Spencer teasingly removed his shirt crawling back onto the bed and hovered over me. My hands started to trace his bare chest, I began to run his fingers up and down his muscular chest softly while I began to feel his hand start to crawl underneath my shirt. He yanked my shirt off my head, throwing it to the ground only once breaking the kiss.

“Are you still okay with this, Y/n?” We had removed the rest of our clothes and were as close as we could be to each other but he didn’t move before asking me.

“Yes, I’m sure.” Within moments I felt the pain suddenly vanish and began to feel pleasure. I began to move against him and leaned up pressing my lips down upon his. He embraced me back instantly when my fingers dug into his back.

He ran his body over every inch of my body he could reach, both of us slick with sweat as he moved against one another, our pants and moans filling the room. “I love you, Y/n.”

“I love you too.” I whispered when we were finished and simply fell asleep in my bed holding onto the other for dear life. Unaware of how our lives would change from that night on.

Two months later

Walking into the living room of my parents lodge they were both sitting on the couch waiting for me to tell the, the news I said that I needed to share with them immediately. Clasping my hands together in front of my chest I released a heavy breath saying the words quickly rather than dragging them out. “I’m pregnant.”

“What!” My father jumped up from his spot beside my mother on the couch.

My mother slowly rose from her spot walking up to me and gently taking hold of my hands in hers. “Who’s the father? Why didn’t you tell us you were getting married to someone?”

“I’m not married to the baby’s father, mother. He was drafted for the war. It’s - Spencer is the father.”

My mother took a few steps back and removed my hands from hers with a scowl on her face. “You bear a child out of wedlock. I thought - how dare you we taught you better than this.”

“I didn’t know it was that easy to get pregnant the first time. Aunt Lana didn’t have a child until two years after you had me - gah!” Grabbing my cheek it burned from the harsh slap my father had gave me while I collapsed down onto my knees on the wooden floor.

My father shouted down at me making me start sobbing at the reaction of my parents. I didn’t think they would throw me out in such a time of need. “You are no longer my daughter. Since you’ve decided to keep that bastard I suggest you go to your new family cause I won’t have you and that baby under my roof!”

“Daddy. Mama please!” I begged them but neither of them lost the disappointing looks on their faces.

My mother crossed her arms over her chest and stomped up the stairs telling me I should go silently. Gathering my things I grabbed my horse from the barn and made the journey across the small valley to the Dutton ranch. Making my way up the stairs I knocked on the door lightly crying as I saw Cara Dutton open the door and greet me. “Y/n - oh dear come inside. What ails you child?”

“My parents have disowned me. I didn’t - I didn’t know where else to go but here.” I sniffed stepping through the front door with my suitcase.

She brushed hair out of my eyes asking calmly. “Why would they disown you, child?”

“I’m pregnant.” She didn’t say a word already knowing who it could be and immediately helped me set up a room in the house.

Exiting the barn I heard someone running over to me and I was nearly tackled to the dirt by a familiar bundle of dark brown hair and a sweet giggle that could only belong to my three year old daughter Helen Dutton. “Ohhh careful little lady. I ain’t as quick reflective as you are anymore.”

“There’s a stranger coming over here and he has a woman with him. I don’t know who he is, mama.” She explained to me with fear in her voice where I scooped her up in my arms.

Kissing her forehead I walked us over to the end of the barn but sharply halted in my tracks coming face to face with someone I hadn’t seen in years. “Spencer!”

“Y/n, what are you doing here?” He asked me while I eyed him up and down seeing a blonde woman hanging on his arm that I didn’t recognize.

Helen tugged on my shirt nuzzling her head into my neck trying to hide from the man. “Mama, who is he?”

“Spencer, I - I thought you were never coming back here. Who - who is the blonde with you?” Blinking my eyes I felt so many emotions running through my mind. I wanted to run into his arms and tell him that he had a daughter since he clearly didn’t know. But I also wanted to kick his ass for bringing another woman home when he said that he loved me.

The blonde separated herself from my childhood lover and extended her hand introducing herself. “I’m Alexander, his fiancé and you are?” Shifting my gaze over to Spencer I glared at him, unsure of what to say to him next.

Spencer Dutton and I weren't in a serious relationship when we finally kissed. No we were the opposite of the typical people in our lives. Especially five months ago before he went off to fight in the on going war. Spencer pressed my back against the soft bed mattress never breaking the heated kiss. He placed his hands on either side of me hearing me moan breaking the kiss. "If I die in the war this wouldn't be a bad last memory to have. What made you think of doing something like this?"

When he had asked me that question I wasn't really in my right state of mind. He was obviously attractive that was clear but that wasn't why I was attracted to him. Running my hands over his bare chest I leaned up wrapping my arms around his neck flipping him on his back with my hair falling in front of both our faces. "If I told you I don't think you'd feel the same way. So let's just say this is a one night stand thing cowboy."

He moved one hand up brushing my hair back running his fingers through my locks. I moaned when he tugged on it lightly where I tugged him closer rocking my hips against his hearing him moan too. Spencer rolled us over slowly kissing me at the same time when he enters me making love to me where I closed my eyes living in that memory everytime I fall asleep especially when I discovered that I was pregnant. Sitting down at a table in my house I sighed reading the letter address to him outloud to myself running my freehand over my almost fully grown stomach. "Dear Spencer, I lied to you when we slept together. I said there wasn't a reason as to why I wanted to be with you. The truth is I'm pregnant with your child and I love you too. I was just afraid that you didn't feel the same way. You don't have to come home after the war if you are alive. I don't want to pin you down to something if you don't feel the same way. I just thought you should know, your friend Y/n."

I sent the letter a few months ago with the one his aunt Cara would send. Now I was just sitting on his family's front porch listening to the rain hit while she was getting ready for bed. Resting my hands on my stomach I was due in about two months from when I wrote the letter. Yet there hasn't been any response which didn't surprise me. I never expected him to fail for someone like me. Foosteps came outside the front door where I noticed it was Jacob. He removed his hat sitting down beside me on the swing. "I'm sorry about the town kicking you out for being pregnant before you were married."

"I didn't expect my parents to just throw me out the way that they did. The titles of high society and the low common rancher shouldn't matter if you truly love someone!" I spat towards the man who had given me a room in his house without hesitation. My family had quite more money than the Duttons and had expected to marry me off but I had been a lifelong friend of Spencer so I couldn't just burry my feelings away.

Jacob stared at me silently reaching across placing his hand over mine on my belly. "You will always have a home here, Y/n. Here it don't matter where you came from the Yellowstone takes care of your own when you take care of the land. That baby inside you is half Dutton so you will always belong here."

Shutting my eyes I leaned my head back just taking in the quiet sounds of the ranch slightly happy that I was going to raise a baby here. Jacob's hand moved from mine causing me to lean up and see that there was a horse and buggy coming our direction in the middle of the night which was rather strange. "Who on earth could that be in the middle of the night?" I asked myself walking across the porch leaning against one of the stone pillars not being able to tell who was walking towards us in the middle of the night.

Jacob quickly opened the front door calling to his wife Cara who handed him a shotgun where he came to stand directly at my side shouting out into the darkness. "Put your hands up, trustpasser and identify yourself before I blow your head off."

"Don't shoot its me!" The figure shouted coming closer to the edge of the stairs seeing that they had their hands raised but I still couldn’t make out who exactly it was. “Y/n, it’s me. It’s Spencer.”

His name slips past my lips where I started rushing down the stairs until I about fell so Jacob looped his arm through mine helping me down the rest of the way down. “Spencer?”

“Y/n, I got your letter. I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. But you should know that I feel the same way about you.” He blurted out when my eyes adjusted to the darkness locking onto his soft eyes that hadn’t left mine the entire time.

Blinking my eyes a couple times I slowly stepped towards him not believing what he was saying was actually true. I never imagined that he would fall for someone who was raised to be a lady of high society and he was raised to be a cowboy on a long generational ranch. “Are you being serious, Spencer. I don’t want you to have come all this way because I am pregnant. I can raise the baby on my own so that you don’t have to be tied down to something.”

“I’m being completely serious. I don’t know why you would think that I wouldn’t want to be with the girl who may be a proper lady but will run around like a crazy cowgirl and get dirty all the same. You will always do whatever is best for others like telling me that I didn’t have to come back here, but I do. Because I love you. I love you more than - fuck it.” He cut himself short stomping cupping my face in his hands crashing his lips onto mine.

There was light rain going on when I came down the stairs but now you could feel it pick up heavy but I didn’t care to go inside. Wrapping my arms around his neck I moaned into the kiss realizing how much I truly missed him. “Spencer…I love you too.” I rasped out breaking the kiss trying to catch my breath with our chest’s heaving up and down.

“You two better your asses inside if you don’t wish to catch a cold.” The front door,opened but we didn’t pay much mins to what his aunt Cara was saying to us.

Spencer wrapped his arms around my waist tugging me up against his chest as close as he possibly could. His eyes were so full of love when they focused on me where I leaned up on my toes wanting to jump up and wrap my legs around him but my pregnant belly wouldn’t allow me. Lifting my head up we were soaked from head to toe now but I ran a hand through his hair too focused on the cowboy in front of me. “She will come outside and kick both our sass if we don’t come inside you know that right.” I giggled sending him a bright smile.

“Oh don’t worry darlin’. I ain’t leaving your side for a second when we go inside that house.” He nuzzled his nose in the crook of my neck whispering in my ear. “In fact I’m gonna let you know that we probably aren’t gonna leave the bedroom until the baby is born. Because I’ve got a lot of time to make up on and too many sleepless nights of not lovin’ on you.”

“Spencer!” He scoped me up bridal style where I wrapped my arms around his neck squealing with him rushing up the stairs kicking open the bedroom door dropping me down on the bed hovering above me where I crashed my lips onto his hungrily.

The dust stung my eyes, but it was nothing compared to the raw, gut-wrenching fear that had seized me when I saw the open car door, the abandoned doll, Helen’s doll, lying in the driveway. Donald Whitfield. The name itself was a venomous hiss in my mind. He’d driven right up to my home, brazen as a wolf in broad daylight, and taken my baby.

My legs felt like lead as I scrambled out of the truck, the shotgun still heavy in my hands. Then I heard it, the rumble of another engine, the roar of a familiar truck. Spencer. He’d pulled up beside me, his face a mask of grim determination, the same expression I’d seen him wear before he’d faced down bears and outlaws.

He moved with an unnerving calm, a stark contrast to the frantic panic clawing at my throat. He reached for me, his calloused hand warm as it closed around mine, pulling me upright. The shock of his touch, the sheer unsteadiness of my own knees, was almost enough to make me buckle. It was still so surreal, him standing there, knowing. Knowing about Helen. Knowing he was a father, to a daughter he’d never known, with a woman who wasn't his wife.

“I’m going to rescue my daughter, and you can’t stop me, cowboy,” I blurted out, the words a desperate vow, laced with the tremor of my fear.

His grip tightened, a steady anchor in the storm. A ghost of a smile, more a flicker of shared resolve, touched his lips. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He knelt, retrieved the shotgun from the dusty ground where I’d dropped it, and handed it back to me, his fingers brushing mine. “We’re in this together now, Y/n. We’ll bring our daughter home.”

His words, simple and direct, were a balm to my frayed nerves. Together. The word resonated, a promise of strength, of a shared purpose. We’d always been like that, hadn’t we? Dancing around each other on the edges of our lives, the silent understanding, the stolen glances, the unspoken affection that had simmered between us for years. We lived on neighboring ranches, our families intertwined by the harsh realities of this land, always ready to lend a hand, to share a burden. And Spencer, with his roguish charm and that deep, thoughtful gaze, had always held a special place in my heart.

But he was married now. To Alexandra, the spirited British woman he’d met in Africa, a woman who seemed as wild and untamed as he was, yet polished by a world I could only imagine. My heart ached with a familiar, dull throb at the thought, even now, even with Helen ripped from our lives.

“Where do you think he’s going?” I asked, my voice raspy, my eyes scanning the open plains, searching for any sign of Whitfield’s dust trail.

Spencer’s gaze was sharp, honed by years of tracking. “He came from the north, heading towards the old mining road. It’s rough country, not many folks venture that way unless they have a reason.” He looked at me, his eyes holding a flicker of concern. “Are you sure you can handle this, Y/n? It won’t be easy.”

A fierce protectiveness, an instinct I’d only truly known since Helen had been born, surged through me. “I’ll handle it,” I said, my voice firm, unwavering. “She’s my daughter, Spencer. My blood.” The words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the truth he’d only just learned.

He nodded, a solemn acknowledgment. “I know.” He climbed back into his truck, the engine turning over with a powerful growl. “Get in. We can’t waste any more time.”

I slid into the passenger seat, the familiar scent of leather and horse sweat filling the cab. The shotgun rested between us, a silent promise of what we were prepared to do. Spencer drove with an expert hand, his focus entirely on the task ahead.

“Did you ever get the letters?” I asked, the question tumbling out before I could stop it. I’d sent him letters, so many letters, filled with my hopes and fears, my love and the growing reality of our child. They were my only connection to him during his time away, my way of bridging the vast distance between us.

Spencer’s jaw tightened, and he didn’t take his eyes off the road. “My aunt mailed them. I… I was in Africa. Things were… complicated. I didn’t read them properly, Y/n. I kept meaning to. That’s no excuse, I know.” His voice was rough, laced with a regret I could almost taste. “When I got back, and your father told me… I was stunned. Then when I heard about Whitfield, about Helen…” He shook his head, the words catching in his throat.

My heart ached for him, for the lost moments, for the daughter he’d been denied. But right now, there was no time for recrimination, no room for the tangled mess of our past. There was only Helen.

“Does Alexandra know?” I asked, the question a necessary hurdle, a bridge we had to cross.

Spencer took a deep breath. “She knows I’m here. She knows we’re looking for Helen. I told her… I told her you were an old friend, that we needed to work together.” He paused, his gaze flicking to me briefly, a flicker of something I couldn’t quite decipher. “She understands family, Y/n. She’ll understand this.”

I nodded, though a part of me remained skeptical. Alexandra was a force, I’d seen it in the brief moments I’d encountered her. Strong, independent, and undeniably in love with Spencer. How would she feel about this sudden revelation, this daughter from another woman?

The landscape blurred past, the vast expanse of Montana a silent witness to our desperate chase. Spencer pointed towards a narrow, winding track disappearing into a rocky canyon. “He’s taking the old mining road. It’s a dead end, mostly abandoned. He might be trying to hide.”

We plunged into the canyon, the truck bouncing violently over the uneven terrain. The air grew cooler, the silence broken only by the rattle of our vehicle. “Whitfield’s no fool,” Spencer muttered, his eyes scanning the desolate landscape. “He knows this territory. He’ll know we’re coming.”

“He hurt her, Spencer,” I said, my voice a low growl. “He tore her from my arms. I saw the fear in her eyes. If he’s touched her…” I couldn’t finish the thought. The image of Helen, my sweet, innocent Helen, in that man’s clutches, was a fire in my belly, fueling my resolve.

Spencer’s hand reached out, not to touch me, but to rest on the shotgun between us. A silent acknowledgment of my fury, and a confirmation that he shared it. “We’ll get her back, Y/n. And Whitfield will pay for this. I swear it.”

We rounded a bend, and there it was. A dilapidated cabin, barely more than a shack, perched precariously on the side of the canyon. A plume of smoke curled from its chimney, a tell-tale sign of life. A single, beat-up truck was parked haphazardly near the entrance.

“That’s him,” Spencer said, his voice a low rumble. He brought the truck to a halt, the engine falling silent. The quiet that descended was deafening, charged with anticipation.

“He won’t be expecting us to come this way so fast,” I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“He expected you to be alone, Y/n. He didn’t expect this,” Spencer said, his gaze fixed on the cabin. He looked at me, his eyes a deep, unsettling blue, filled with a shared history, a shared love, and now, a shared mission. “Ready?”

I nodded, gripping the shotgun tighter. “Born ready.”

Spencer opened his door, his movements fluid and controlled. “Remember, Y/n, stay behind me. Let me handle the approach. If he tries to use Helen… we’ll deal with that when it comes.”

“I’m not a damsel in distress, Spencer,” I retorted, though I knew he meant well. I’d handled myself on this ranch for years, and I wouldn’t falter now.

He gave a slight, humorless smile. “I know that. But this is different. This is our daughter.”

We dismounted, the gravel crunching under our boots. Spencer moved with a predator’s grace, his senses on high alert. I followed closely, the shotgun held at the ready, my every nerve ending alive. The wind whispered through the barren trees, a mournful sound that seemed to echo the fear in my heart.

As we neared the cabin, the door creaked open, and a figure emerged, silhouetted against the dim light within. Donald Whitfield. He stood there, his face a cruel smirk, and clutched in his arms was a small, terrified bundle. Helen.

My breath hitched. She was crying, her little body trembling.

“Well, well, well,” Whitfield sneered, his voice like gravel. “Look what the cat dragged in. Spencer Dutton, and the little ranch hand from next door. Come to play hero?”

Spencer stepped forward, his stance solid, his eyes locked on Whitfield. “Let the girl go, Whitfield. This doesn’t have to get messy.”

Whitfield chuckled, a harsh, grating sound. “Messy? It’s already messy, isn’t it? You’ve been gone for years, Spencer. Left her here, some say. And now you show up with… what is this? A new squeeze?” He gestured dismissively towards me.

The word stung, a cruel twist of the knife. But I held onto my anger, channeling it. “She’s not a plaything, Whitfield. She’s a child. And you’re a coward.”

“A coward?” Whitfield’s eyes narrowed. He shifted Helen in his arms, making her whimper. “I’m the one who’s got what you want. You want her back? You’ll have to come and get her.”

Spencer took another step forward, his hand slowly reaching for something tucked into his belt. I knew what it was. He always carried a knife.

“Don’t,” I warned, my voice low and dangerous. “Don’t you dare do anything to her.”

Whitfield’s smirk widened. “Or what? You’ll shoot me? And your precious daughter gets caught in the crossfire? Think about it, Y/n. Think about your little girl.”

My blood ran cold. He was right. The thought of a stray bullet, of harming Helen, was a horrifying prospect. But I couldn’t let him win.

Spencer’s voice was calm, measured, a stark contrast to the raging storm inside me. “Whitfield, you’re outnumbered. There’s nowhere to run. Give us the girl, and we’ll let you walk away. No charges. Just disappear.”

Whitfield scoffed. “You think I’m stupid? I know how this works. You’ll drag me back, throw me in jail, and I’ll rot. No, thank you.” He started to back away, towards the open door of the cabin. “I’ve got a better plan.”

Then, from inside the cabin, I heard another voice, a woman’s voice, sharp and clear. “Donald, what are you doing? Let the child go!”

Alexandra. My heart leaped. She was here? How?

Whitfield whirled around, his face contorted in rage. “Stay out of this, Alexandra! It’s none of your business!”

“It is my business!” Alexandra’s voice rang out, stronger now. “Spencer is my fiancé. And that little girl… she’s his daughter. I won’t let you hurt her.”

Confusion flickered across Whitfield’s face. Spencer’s gaze met mine across the dusty ground, a silent acknowledgment of Alexandra’s presence and her unwavering loyalty. It was a moment of unexpected grace, a ray of light in the darkness.

“Get behind me, Y/n,” Spencer said, his voice firm. He’d clearly sensed the shift, the potential for a new tactic.

Whitfield, blinded by his own twisted logic and the unexpected appearance of Alexandra, seemed to falter. He tightened his grip on Helen, who was now sobbing uncontrollably.

“You’re a fool, Whitfield,” Spencer said, his voice hardening. “Thinking you could get away with this. Thinking you could hurt a child and walk away.”

Suddenly, the cabin door swung open further, revealing Alexandra standing in the entrance, a rifle held steady in her hands. Her eyes met Spencer’s, a silent communication passing between them. Then, her gaze shifted to Whitfield, and her expression was one of pure, unadulterated fury.

“You have made a grave mistake, Donald,” Alexandra said, her voice dangerously quiet. “You have threatened the Dutton family. And that… that includes me.”

Whitfield, caught between Spencer, me, and now Alexandra, seemed to realize he was trapped. His bravado began to crumble. He looked from Alexandra’s rifle to Spencer’s steady gaze, to my determined stance.

“Helen!” I cried, my voice raw with urgency. “Let her go!”

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, his eyes darting between us. Then, with a guttural curse, he shoved Helen forward, towards me.

I didn’t hesitate. I lunged, scooping my daughter into my arms, burying my face in her tear-streaked hair. She clung to me, sobbing, “Mommy! Mommy!”

Spencer, seizing the moment, moved with lightning speed. He disarmed Whitfield, his movements brutal and efficient. Whitfield went down with a grunt, the rifle skittering across the ground.

Alexandra calmly lowered her rifle, her eyes still fixed on the subdued Whitfield. “You’re going to wish you’d stayed wherever you came from, Donald,” she said, her voice deceptively soft.

Spencer knelt beside Whitfield, his face grim. “You’re going to answer for this. All of it.”

I held Helen tight, whispering reassurances, my heart still pounding. She was safe. My baby was safe. I looked up at Spencer, at Alexandra standing there, her expression a mixture of relief and something else I couldn’t quite place.

Spencer looked at me, his gaze holding a depth of emotion I hadn’t seen in years. “We did it, Y/n. We brought her home.”

The Montana wind, a constant, restless beast, whipped through my hair as I wrestled with a stubborn section of barbed wire. The morning sun, still low on the horizon, painted the Yellowstone Dutton Ranch in hues of gold and amber, but the beauty did little to ease the ache in my shoulders. Ranch work was honest work, brutal work, and I loved it. Loved the feel of the earth under my boots, the camaraderie of the cowboys, even the endless, unforgiving demands of the land.

Today, the task was rebuilding a section of fence damaged by a recent stampede. The cattle were restless, the ground was uneven, and the wire seemed determined to tangle itself into an impossible knot. I cursed under my breath, tugging harder. “Having a bit of a tiff, are we?"

The voice, low and laced with amusement, sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the wind. I straightened, turning to face Spencer Dutton.

Spencer. Just the name alone felt like a brand on my skin. He was everything I wasn't: worldly, sophisticated, a veteran of the Great War with eyes that held a depth of experience that both fascinated and intimidated me. He’d returned to the ranch only a few months ago, a ghost of the boy he once was, haunted by the horrors he’d witnessed. But beneath the darkness, there was a spark, a magnetic pull that I couldn't deny.

He leaned against a fence post, his Stetson casting a shadow over his face, but I could still see the glint in his eyes. He wore a worn leather jacket and jeans, clothes that spoke of practicality, but even in simple attire, he carried himself with an undeniable air of grace.

"Just wrestling with a stubborn piece of wire," I said, trying to sound nonchalant, which was a lost cause. My cheeks were already burning.

He pushed himself off the post and walked towards me, his movements fluid and effortless. "Here, let me give you a hand." Before I could protest, he was beside me, his calloused hands deftly untangling the wire with a few practiced movements. The scent of leather and something distinctly him – a blend of sandalwood and smoke – filled my nostrils, making my heart pound in my chest. It was a scent that lingered in my memory long after he was gone.

"Thanks," I mumbled, trying to focus on the task at hand.

"My pleasure," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through me. He handed me the untangled wire. "You know, you don't have to do this all yourself. We're a team here."

"I know," I said, feeling foolish. "I just… I want to pull my weight. I don't want anyone to think I'm not capable."

He chuckled, a sound that sent another shiver down my spine. "I don't think anyone here questions your capabilities, Y/N. You've proven yourself more than capable. But even the strongest of us need help sometimes."

He was right, of course. Pride was a dangerous thing on a ranch like this. It could get you killed.

We worked in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds the clang of the hammer, the creak of the fence posts, and the distant lowing of cattle. With Spencer’s help, the work went faster, the wire less resistant. As we strung the final strand, our hands brushed. It was a fleeting contact, but it sent a jolt of electricity through me. I looked up, and our eyes met.

For a moment, the world seemed to fade away. All I saw was Spencer, his eyes searching mine, filled with an intensity that made my breath catch in my throat. I saw something else there too – a vulnerability, a loneliness that mirrored my own.

He broke the gaze first, turning away and picking up his hat. “Well,” he said, his voice slightly rougher than usual, “that should keep the herd in for now.”

He started to walk away, and a wave of disappointment washed over me. I wanted to say something, anything, to keep him here, but the words caught in my throat.

"Spencer," I blurted out, finally finding my voice.

He stopped and turned back to me, his expression unreadable. "Thank you," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "For your help."

He nodded, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Anytime, Y/N. Anytime."

He turned and walked away, leaving me standing there, the Montana wind swirling around me, carrying the scent of leather and smoke. My heart hammered in my chest, a wild, untamed thing. I knew, with a certainty that settled deep in my bones, that this was more than just a friendship.

The next few weeks were a dance of stolen glances and casual conversations. We’d find ourselves working alongside each other more often, sharing a lunch break under the shade of an ancient cottonwood tree, or riding together to check on the herd. We talked about everything and nothing: the weather, the cattle, the challenges of ranch life, the memories that haunted him from the war.

I learned about the man beneath the stoic exterior, the man who missed his family, who longed for peace, who was struggling to find his place in a world that had changed so much. He, in turn, learned about my dreams of making a life for myself in Montana, of proving that I belonged here, of finding a place where I could finally feel at home.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day of branding calves, I found myself sitting on the porch with Spencer, watching the sun dip below the horizon, painting the sky in fiery shades of orange and purple. The air was still and quiet, the only sound the crickets chirping in the fields. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” I said, breaking the silence.

Spencer nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “It is. Reminds me of Africa, in a way. The vastness, the untamed beauty.”

“You miss it, don’t you?” I asked, knowing the answer.

He sighed. “Parts of it. The freedom, the adventure. But this…” He gestured to the ranch, to the endless expanse of land. “This is home. Or it should be.” There was a sadness in his voice that tugged at my heart.

“It can be,” I said, impulsively. “If you let it.”

He turned to me, his eyes searching mine. “And what about you, Y/N? What are you hoping to find here?”

I hesitated, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “I… I don’t know,” I admitted. “A place to belong, I guess. A purpose.”

He reached out and took my hand, his touch sending a jolt of warmth through me. “You already belong here, Y/N. You're one of us.”

His words, simple as they were, resonated deep within me. I felt a warmth spread through me, a sense of belonging that I had never experienced before.

We sat there for a long time, hand in hand, watching the darkness envelop the ranch. The silence was comfortable, filled with unspoken emotions.

Finally, Spencer spoke, his voice low and hesitant. “Y/N,” he said, “I… I’ve been wanting to say something for a while now. I…” He paused, searching for the right words. “I enjoy spending time with you. More than I thought possible. You make me feel… alive again.”

My heart skipped a beat. I had been hoping, dreaming, of hearing those words, but now that they were actually being spoken, I was almost afraid to believe them. “I feel the same way, Spencer,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “More than you know.”

He squeezed my hand, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and trepidation. “Would you… would you consider going on a date with me? Maybe ride up to that little lake we saw last week and have a picnic?”

I smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reached my eyes. “I would like that very much, Spencer.”

Our first date was everything I had hoped for and more. We rode up to the secluded lake, the Montana landscape unfolding around us in all its glory. We spread a blanket under the shade of a weeping willow, and we ate sandwiches and drank lemonade, laughing and talking as if we had known each other for a lifetime.

Spencer told me stories about his adventures in Africa, about the wildlife, the people, the challenges he had faced. I, in turn, told him about my life back east, about my family, about the reasons I had come to Montana.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the lake, Spencer took my hand and led me to the edge of the water. We stood there in silence, watching the sky transform into a canvas of brilliant colors.

He turned to me, his eyes filled with a warmth that made my heart melt. “Y/N,” he said, his voice soft, “I know I’m not the easiest person to be around. I’m carrying a lot of baggage. But I promise you, I will do everything in my power to make you happy.”

I reached up and touched his face, my fingers tracing the lines etched around his eyes. “You already do, Spencer,” I said. “Just by being you.”

He leaned down and kissed me, a slow, tender kiss that spoke of longing and hope. It was a kiss that sealed our connection, a promise of something more.

Our relationship progressed slowly, carefully, like a fragile seedling pushing its way through the hard Montana soil. We spent more and more time together, exploring the ranch, sharing our dreams, supporting each other through the challenges that life inevitably threw our way.

There were moments of doubt, moments of fear, moments when the darkness of Spencer's past threatened to overwhelm him. But we faced them together, hand in hand, our love growing stronger with each passing day.

One afternoon, while we were repairing a fence line near the north pasture, Spencer stopped working and looked at me. “Y/N,” he said, “I want you to know that you’ve changed my life. You’ve brought light back into my world. I can’t imagine my life without you.” He pulled a small, tarnished silver ring from his pocket. "My mother's. I want you to have it."

He slid the ring onto my finger, the metal cold against my skin, but the warmth of his love radiating through me. “I love you, Spencer,” I said, my voice choked with emotion. “More than words can say.”

He smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that lit up his entire face. “And I love you, Y/N. Forever.”

Whipping my head around I fired another bullet from the shotgun in my hands seeing that the sheep herders were back on our ranch again. Kicking my horse in the belly I saw Cara and Elizabeth coming from the barn but neither had a firearm since they were working. They screamed ducking underneath the shots where I also saw my husband Spencer shooting some of the men from the front porch. I fired the last shot that I had killed the final sheep herder that was directly in front of them where he collapsed onto the ground. "Y/n!" Spencer rushed down the stairs watching me lower my weapon hair tousled and I was covered in a little blood but he found you absolutely badass and beautiful when he approached. "Uh...let's get you cleaned up inside."

"Thank you, sweet girl." His aunt Cara responded leading Elizabeth to another part of the house to try and calm her nerves. Jacob and the cowboys would take care of the bodies and send a message to the ones who were left alive. Spencer pushed open the door to our bedroom open watching me walk inside pulling my shirt over my head wincing when I saw that a bullet must have grazed my side because I was bleeding a little. "Crap. I didn't even feel it...I guess I'm not as good of a fighter as I thought." Spencer strides up cupping my face in his hands kissing me longingly where it almost feels like the wind was knocked out of me. Wrapping my arms around his neck I deepened the kiss where he picked me up carrying me into the bathroom sitting me down on the tub breaking the kiss when we needed air. "You're still a sexy Angel to me, Y/n - honestly I am so amazed by you. I want you so bad right now do you know that?"

Leaning up I gripped his shirt in my hands drawing him in for another heated kiss where he moaned when my fingers ended up in his hair. "Then what's stopping us. You told me the night we met that life was too short." Spencer didn't waste another second picking me up again and we stumbled into the bedroom and onto the bed. He kissed me deeply where I moaned when he kissed my neck removing our clothes in the process. "You aren't like most girls I've come across Y/n...you're my darling." He muttered where I smiled into the kiss knowing he was right because I wasn't immediately attracted to him. I also knew how to fight even though I was raised to be a proper lady. "Spencer if you keep calling me every nickname you can think of we might never leave this room ever again." I chuckled breaking the kiss to see a huge smirk grew across his face before I squealed until we heard his uncle holler from the front porch. "We can hear! Close the window!"

“Spencer, you may want to go outside you’ve got that little L/n girl riding up on a horse all in a huff.” He heard his mother reply from the kitchen so he went to see what was going on. Racing up towards their house I quickly dismounted my horse kicking up dust as I stomped up the wooden stairs seeing the face of my childhood best friend open the front door. “Hey Y/n, what’s going on?” He asked so causally like he couldn’t see I was mad at him. He had gone off to Africa after his time in the war and then I hear from Jack that he’s back and not from him directly. Raising my right hand up I slapped him hard across the face where his brown hat fell off his head holding his burning cheek when his eyes focused on mine filled with anger. “You are an asshole for not telling you were back for weeks. And I had to hear it from Jack. I mean seriously Spencer does me being your best friend mean nothing!”

He reached down snagging his cowboy hat up from the floor of the porch. Putting it back on his head before he finally made eye contact with me. Spencer and I have grown up by the others side for our entire lives. He knows more about me then my other friends do. Except for one tiny thing my huge crush on the oldest Dutton. “Y/n, what are you - you - I’m not the same as you remember me. War changed me. Plus someone attacked my family-“ I cut him off giving him a shove backwards on the porch almost making him fall onto his back. “I know about the attack. I was here for it and you know what I was thinking. God I wish that Spencer was here because we could have gone after the cowards together. I promised - we promised that we would always be there for one another and what happened you left. You left and broke my heart!”

“Your heart, what are you talking about darling. Hold up are you telling me that you’ve had a crush on me this whole time and never told me?” Spencer asked where I throw my hands up shouting in his face with some tears falling. “Yes. God for a cowboy you sure are clueless. I mean how have you not seen me here-“ I get cut off mid sentence when he snacks his arms securely around my waist tugging me against his chest. He crashes his lips onto mine passionately causing me to grip his jacket in my hands kissing back until we were both panting for air. “I’ve been more than a friend to you for awhile now. I just thought you wanted someone else. Someone better than me, Y/n. But I love you. I’ll always love you with my heart.”

“There’s no one else like you, Spencer. I don’t want anyone else to have my heart but you. We know almost every secret of the other so that isn’t something to ignore. I love you too cowboy.” I declare wrapping my arms around his neck leaning up on my toes before he crashes his lips onto mine he wrapped his arms around my waist. Never breaking the kiss I wrapped my arms around his waist holding me close to his chest. Spencer moved pressing my back against one of the stone walls when my fingers knotted themselves into his hair knocking his hat off his head. “You better be planning on marrying that girl before you sleep with her on our front porch Spencer.” We broke the kiss with our hair all tousled staring at his mother standing in the doorway scolding us before he sat me on my feet grabbing his hat placing it on my head seeing me blushing.