Didn’t grab her arm.
Didn’t order her.
Just walked.
For a second she stayed frozen. The barn, the men, the platform — they were the only world she’d known since her mother died and debts swallowed what little land they had.
Then she stepped down.
Not because he told her to.
Because she could.
Outside, the evening sky burned orange across the wide Wyoming hills. The air felt cooler. Cleaner.
A wagon waited near the fence.
The cowboy climbed onto the bench, gathered the reins. He didn’t look back.
Read more on the next page ⬇️⬇️⬇️
