Page 48 of Roping Her Alien Ranchers

As Vantor passed by me—too close, definitely too close—his arm brushed against mine. The contact, brief and innocent, sent electricity racing along my nerves. My body’s response was immediate and embarrassing: pulse skyrocketing, skin flushing, and an unmistakable slick warmth between my thighs.

“I’m going to feed the horses,” I blurted, practically lunging for the door. “They’re probably starving.”

I stumbled down the porch steps, the cool evening air a blessed relief against my heated skin. Pressing a hand against my chest, I tried to slow my thundering heart.

“Get it together, Tammy,” I muttered to myself, kicking at a clump of dirt as I headed toward the stables. “They’re aliens. With tentacles. From space.”

But the persistent throb of desire wouldn’t listen to reason. I glanced back at my house, now containing three impossibly attractive not-men changing into actual clothes, and let out a half-hysterical laugh.

“They better fix their ship and leave soon, or I’m going to be the first human ever who asks to be probed.”

Farm life doesn’t pause for alien invasions. The horses still needed to be fed, watered, and exercised, stalls needed mucking, and the smashed barn wasn’t going to magically rebuild itself. I trudged across the yard, toward the now invisible ship. Every step closer to the UFO, though I couldn’t see it, made my mouth go drier and my pace slow.

“Just business as usual,” I told myself, trying to affect a cheery voice and make my legs walk at a reasonable speed. “That barn needed rebuilding anyways.”

Like a middle finger from the universe reminding me that “business as usual” had packed its bags and left Sunflower Hills Ranch, a sudden gust kicked dust up in my face. I blinked rapidly to clear my eyes and spat out debris.

Looking up at the sky, I shouted, “Am I just one big cosmic joke? Is this my life now?”

Of course, the damn sky didn’t answer.

When I reached the ruined building, I found that the entrance had collapsed further, leaving only a narrow gap to squeeze through. I started to push my body into the passageway, then froze.

“You’re an idiot,” I mumbled at myself, pulling myself back out and then walking two feet to the right to begin stepping up and over the piles of rubble. Even though there was no roof, barely walls left to speak of, and splintered wood everywhere, the air smelled differently once I “entered”. There were the expected scents of hay and rust, but also something cleaner and antiseptic. That last clung to my tongue.

I climbed cautiously over a fallen support beam, heading to where I thought I’d stored the feed bags. They should be fine, since I kept them in rugged, plastic containers. The east wall had gotten the brunt of the impact, the dark green bins partially buried under splintered wood and twisted metal roofing. I dug cautiously through the debris, shifting rubble until my fingernails were rimmed with dirt and splinters jabbed my palms.

Finally, I uncovered what I needed for the evening feed since the stable containers were nearly empty. Artie’s special senior blend in the green tub, still mercifully intact despite being pinned under a section of collapsed shelving. The poor old guy needed the extra nutrients and joint supplements mixed in. Next to Artie’s feed was the black tub of premium pellets for Mystery and Sassafras. The broodmare and stud required higher protein content, especially if I was ever going to get them to breed. It would be easier on my pocketbook if that wasn’t the case. Even buying a decent brand, Artie’s food ran me about fifty bucks a pop. The specialized food set me back more than three times that.

Dragging the heavy bins into the cleared-out area around the invisible ship, I flipped the latches and lifted the lids to reveal full feed bags. The last I had for now. I really wasn’t sure how I was going to buy more. My tab at the Feed & Supply had gotten out of control.

Arms loaded down with one of each food type, I made my way to the stables on the other side of the property. I’d been meaning to transfer all the horse food over there, using one of the empty stalls for storage, but I’d kept putting it off. Maybe later, I’d ask Vantor—with all his marvelous muscles—to move the insanely heavy tubs.

The familiar nickers and whinnies greeted me as I approached, and something in my chest loosened. At least the horses weren’t freaking out about our extra-terrestrial visitors anymore. As I pushed into the stables, all three horses pushed their large heads over their respective gates.

“Good evening, you spoiled monsters,” I called as I walked inside, beelining for the back wall and dropping the bags next to the food containers. I’d refill them after I doled out the evening meal of hay. “Sorry about the delay. We had a slight apocalypse situation.”

Mystery tossed his magnificent, ebony head and gave me a look of flat, imperious disdain. I sometimes thought he didn’t like me, instead only tolerating me because I gave him food and shelter. Meanwhile Sassafras, her chestnut face as sweet as ever, nickered eagerly and pressed her body against her gate, trying to get closer to me. She’d follow me into a burning building if she thought I had sugar cubes. Artie stared placidly in my direction, waiting patiently.

I moved to Sassafras first, patting her velvety nose gently. “I know, I know. Mealtime is sacred. Don’t worry, I’ll get us back on track tomorrow. Unless the aliens eat all your food by then. I honestly don’t know what to feed them. Maybe they’d like hay and alfalfa pellets.” I shrugged, realizing I should have gotten more groceries while in town.

Next, I went to Artie, my gaze meeting his patient eyes. I brushed my hand down his mane. “You’re the linchpin, you know. I’d fall apart without you, old timer.”

He was such a gentle horse. Unlike Mystery and Sassafras, I realized, he hadn’t gone completely bonkers over the aliens when they’d first arrived. Thinking back, he’d stood there as they’d surrounded him, like he’d seen enough in his long life that aliens were no more exciting than a fresh apple. Actually, Artie would probably perk up over a Red Delicious or Granny Smith. Squid monsters? Not so much.

When I moved to Mystery, he turned away, showing me his haunches.

“Well, hello to you too,” I joked, not having expected a warmer greeting from him.

I moved through the familiar routine of filling feed bags with fresh hay, cleaning and filling water buckets, checking hooves for any issues, and brushing coats until they gleamed. The repetitive motions soothed my frayed nerves. With each stroke of the brush across Mystery’s muscled flank—though he acted like his normal imperial self, barely looking at me—and with each gentle word murmured into Sassafras’s twitching ear, I felt more grounded, more myself. And I couldn’t forget my old man Artie, who always seemed content just to be alive.

After they’d all eaten, I released them one by one into the pasture. Mystery walked regally through the gate, always acting like king of the castle, while Sassafras pranced through happily, keeping her distance from the larger Quarter horse. Artie lingered next to me for a while after I opened his gate, pressing his rounded side into my body until I scratched behind his ears, then he ambled out at his own leisurely pace, pausing to sniff the morning air before finding his favorite sunny spot.

Back in the stable, I grabbed a pitchfork and the wheelbarrow. The least glamorous part of horse ownership awaited. Mucking out stalls wasn’t fun, but necessary. I attacked the first pile of soiled hay and manure, muscles straining as I lifted it into the wheelbarrow. The physical exertion felt good, mindless and necessary. Bonus, it took my mind off the weird, tentacled aliens that now looked dangerously hot.

“This is how you care for your Earth companions?”

I startled, the pitchfork slipping in my grasp. Standing in the stable doorway were my three visitors, now properly dressed in the Western-style clothes I’d provided. Their human disguises were impeccable in the daylight—almost. Something about the way they stood too still, the way they blinked too infrequently, betrayed their otherness. And, once in a while, a shimmer passed over their skin, and beneath that were colors that did not belong on a human.