Page 6 of Roping Her Alien Ranchers

I kicked at the dirt, sending a small cloud of dust into the air. My boots, once shiny and new, were now cracked and worn—just like my dreams for this place. But I wasn't ready to give up. Not yet. Not ever.

I watched the horses for a moment longer, determination hardening my features despite the setback. Mystery had wandered closer to the center of the paddock, his curiosity apparently overcoming his pride. Sassafras, though still wary, was watching him with slightly less terror than before. It wasn't much, but it also wasn’t nothing.

“That's it,” I murmured. “Baby steps.”

Maybe what they needed was a different approach. Maybe I was pushing too hard, expecting too much too soon. Or maybe—and this thought landed like a stone in my stomach—I needed a Plan B that didn't rely on these two temperamental equines falling in love on my timeline. The way things were going now, I'd be in foreclosure before they were even willing to get within sniffing distance. The vet had mentioned artificial insemination, though that came with a price tag whereas just getting these two to naturally do the deed would be free.

“Ugh,” I murmured, running a hand down my face before resigning myself to accept another disappointment.

I pulled the gate closed behind me, latching it securely. The sun was beginning its slow descent toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the property. I headed back toward the house, my mind racing with increasingly desperate plans. Sell some of the equipment the old owners left behind? Take out another loan? Find a part-time job in town?

Most of the equipment was rusted and only worked half the time, probably why most of it got left behind.

I’d maxed out my credit options.

Finding a part-time job would mean putting less effort into Sunflower, which would be signing Sunflower’s death warrant. I was putting my all into it right now, and it was barely two steps above a shit hole. If I gave it half effort? Yeah, that wasn’t a solution.

And, even if I tried these options, none would generate enough cash fast enough anyways. What I needed was a miracle—or at the very least, a brilliant idea that hadn't occurred to me yet.

As I approached the farmhouse, its sagging porch mirroring my own frown, I decided. I would give Mystery and Sassafras three more days—exactly three more chances to overcome their mutual dislike. And if they couldn't or wouldn't? Well, then I'd have to get creative. I’d bring in a specialist, even if I had to bleed the last of my bank reserves dry. Breeding farms utilized artificial insemination all the time. I was being stubborn and stupid trying to force matters between the two horses. But… I’d wanted to prove that I could do this without help. I couldn’t shake the notion that asking for a hand was the same as failing. I knew it wasn’t. So, I needed to set aside my pride and do whatever was necessary.

Because one thing was certain—I wasn't going back to Derek. I'd sleep in the stable with the horses before I'd admit defeat and prove him right. Sunflower Hills Ranch might be hanging on by a thread, but it was my thread, and I'd be damned if I let it break without a fight.

2

TAMMY

Holding hope in a bucket… and the bucket’s full of holes.

The alarm blared at five-thirty in the morning, yanking me from a dream where Mystery and Sassafras were happily frolicking in a field together while I counted stacks of cash. Though I knew it was just my imagination, and that I was desperately clinging to a fantasy, I let myself bask in the joy the falsehood brought me as I stretched and yawned.

Of course, fantasies are fleeting things.

And reality hits harder than a wrecking ball.

Or the cold floor under my bare feet.

Another day, another desperate attempt to play equine matchmaker. I dressed in the dark, my movements automatic after months of the same routine: jeans, flannel shirt, boots that had seen better days. I dragged myself downstairs, poured coffee from a day-old pot, and warmed it too little before adding sugar that couldn’t dissolve properly. Lastly, I snagged a handful of baby carrots from the fridge to shove in my pants pockets before I shuffled out to the porch. Outside, the first hint of dawn painted the horizon in washed-out watercolors, like God himself was too tired to use the good paints this morning. I didn’t blame him. On mornings when things looked too sunny and saturated, it gave me too heavy a dose of false hope.

I drank the horrid coffee quickly, hoping it would give me enough pick-me-up to get through another day, and I left the mug on the cracked, flaking porch railing.

As I walked down the stairs and began crossing the gravelly ground, sweat quickly beaded on my forehead despite the early hour. It wasn’t even that warm yet, but the combination of Kansas humidity and the crushing weight of anxiety would make anyone perspire. Today had to work. It simply had to. I'd given them three more days, and this was day one of my final countdown.

The stable was quiet as I entered, the only sounds the soft shuffling of hooves on straw and the occasional snort. I moved past the stalls, the horses all pushing their heads over their respective gates, and I went to the feed bags hanging on the wall, specialized food containers beneath—those had the pellets and needed refilling, but right now I wanted the hay which is what I fed all three horses in the morning. I filled Artie’s slow feed hay bag first and carried it over to him, slinging it over his gate so the weight was on the outside, keeping the feed bag suspended on his side. Sassafras next. Then Mystery, whose eyes gleamed in the dim light as I approached his stall, watching me with that imperial disdain that had become his trademark.

"Morning, Your Highness," I said. “I’m here to feed you for free, seeing as you refuse to make a baby.”

His ears twitched, but otherwise he waited, knowing I was there to serve him. I draped his feed bag over his stall gate and then left the horses to eat while I went to the supply barn to check my inventory. I didn’t want to, mostly because I couldn’t afford to buy anything right now. If I found I was low on something important, then I’d have to rob Peter to pay Paul for the millionth time.

Back at the stables thirty minutes later, I grabbed a harness and, this time, went to Mystery first. He snorted, backing away from the harness held in my hand as if it were covered in toxic waste.

"Don't start," I warned, my voice low and steady despite the frustration already building in my chest. "We're doing this, whether you like it or not. Sassy is a literal doll and you’re a grumpy asshole. You don’t even deserve her."

After five minutes and a lot of coaxing, I finally had Mystery haltered and ready to go. I let him out into the connected, fenced pasture first by opening his exterior stable gate. He was in a mood, and I wanted to give him a few moments to run out some energy before we gave this doomed romance another try.

I didn’t have to bribe Sassafras. By contrast, she practically threw herself at her stall door when I approached, eager for attention.

"Easy, girl," I murmured, putting a training lead on her instead of a halter. She wasn’t the one I might need to manhandle if things went South. "Try not to seem so desperate. Guys hate that."