Page 63 of Roping Her Alien Ranchers

To keep myself busy, though it was well past the reasonable human time to rest, I’d thrown myself into studying the horses. Determination set in quickly. We would do more than deliver the planet-saving samples home, we would also bring back enough lucrative data from this world to satisfy our superiors. We would be praised for our bravery in the face of terrible odds. We would be lauded heroes for surviving the crash, the barbaric natives, and the journey home.

Barbaric natives…

Tammy’s face flashed across my mind.

The only thing barbarous about the human Omega was how deeply she affected me, ruining my scientific composure.

As I adjusted the recording sensor I’d been working with, the device projected a translucent overlay across my field of vision. The horses’ heat signatures pulsed in soothing patterns of red and orange against the cooler backdrop of the machinery building, which Kalith had quickly retrofitted with separation panels to create individual stalls. It was a barely adequate situation, but the equines were safe. That was all that mattered.

That was all that mattered? I felt like I was betraying my home world by even thinking that thought.

I calibrated each device with precise movements. though I was painfully aware that my excessive attention to detail was merely a distraction from the more troubling calculations running parallel in my mind: probability of a second fire (sixty-three percent), estimated response time if such an event occurred (approximately one hundred and forty-two seconds), and most disturbing—likelihood that Derek Morgan would escalate his tactics beyond property damage (eighty-six percent, with a ten percent variance). I could smell him, how his scent had shifted, how my own internal alarms warned me he was a predator. My tentacles twitched beneath my human disguise, betraying anxiety that I tried hard to ignore.

Mystery shifted in his makeshift stall, the sound of his powerful body moving against straw sending an unexpected pulse of alarm through my nervous system. My right tentacle nearly burst through my wrist before I regained control, forcing it back beneath my human disguise with a concentration that momentarily interrupted my sensor placement.

The structure, full of ancient earth machinery, had a particular olfactory profile I was still categorizing—oxidized metal, fuel, mildew. Different from the sweet hay and musk of the stables before the fire. That building had also held Tammy’s distinctive omega pheromones, like her very aura had seeped into the wood. Her unique perfume continued to affect my endocrine systems in ways I found increasingly difficult to resist.

I approached Mystery’s cordoned off area in the machinery building, placing a thermal sensor above his gate where it would have optimal coverage of both the interior space and the walkway. The stallion’s ears flicked forward at my presence, his dark eyes reflecting the dim light like polished obsidian. Unlike my first encounter with him, he no longer retreated to the far corner of his enclosure when I approached. Progress in interspecies rapport development, I noted mentally.

Mystery stepped toward the temporary stall’s gate, his nostrils flaring as he scented me. I recalled my previous attempts at equine communication and produced a series of soft clicking sounds with my mouth—an approximation of the sounds horses made to each other during grooming rituals, according to my research.

His ears pivoted with evident interest, head tilting slightly as he processed this attempt at cross-species dialogue. We engaged in what could almost be described as mutual observation—my intense, detailed observation matched by his equine assessment. Then, with what appeared to be a decisive snort, Mystery turned and walked back to his hay, dismissing me as neither threat nor sufficiently interesting companion.

“Communication attempt: partially successful but ultimately terminated by subject,” I murmured into my recording device, ignoring the irrational sensation of disappointment that rippled beneath my chromatophores. “Subject demonstrated initial curiosity but insufficient engagement to sustain interaction.”

As I turned to place the next sensor, a memory surfaced—Tammy’s voice explaining how to gain the horses’ trust. Sugar cubes. Apples. Rewards for desired behaviors. My gaze swept the machinery building. There was no shelf here which held various containers.

I left the building, moving quickly over to the scorched stables. I glanced inside, finding Kalith hard at work. There was no way the treats had survived. I turned instead toward the house, and crossed the distance to it in record time, flowing up the front steps and pushing through the door. I found my way to the kitchen, opening cabinets until I found a rectangular box of the sucrose cubes favored by the equines. Moving closer, I identified a glass jar with white crystalline cubes visible through its transparent walls. I took the box with me, making my way back to the horses.

Mystery’s reaction was immediate. His head lifted, ears pivoting forward with unmistakable interest as I approached his space once more. This time, when I extended my hand with two sugar cubes resting on my palm, he moved toward me with remarkable alacrity.

“Fascinating response to sucrose stimulus,” I observed as his velvety muzzle tickled my palm, lips carefully extracting the sugar cubes with surprising delicacy. “Subject demonstrates clear preference hierarchy, prioritizing caloric reward over previous disinterest in interspecies interaction.”

The sound of whickering interrupted my documentation. Sassafras and Artie had both extended their heads over their respective “gates”, ears pricked forward, eyes focused intently on the sugar jar in my hand. Their vocalizations contained unmistakable elements of demand and expectation.

“It appears that feeding one being and not the others incites dissatisfaction in the herd,” I noted, observing the social dynamics with interest.

I faced a logistical challenge—three horses requiring simultaneous attention to maintain social equilibrium. Without conscious decision, my arms separated beneath my human disguise, tentacles extending to perform multiple tasks concurrently. I placed sugar cubes in each extended appendage, offering treats to all three horses simultaneously while reaching for grooming brushes with additional tentacles that emerged from beneath my sleeves.

The sensation of three different equine muzzles against my tentacles was unexpectedly pleasant—each with unique texture and pressure, each accepting the offering with different techniques. As I began brushing their coats with three separate brushes held by three separate tentacles, I experienced an unusual sensation of harmony. The repetitive motion, combined with the horses’ evident pleasure, created a feedback loop of satisfaction that transcended simple biological reward mechanisms.

“Cyro? What in the world are you doing?”

Tammy’s voice startled me, nearly causing a breach in my concentration. I turned to find her standing in the building’s doorway, her red hair caught in the beam of moonlight streaming through the window. Her expression cycled rapidly through surprise, confusion, and then unrestrained amusement as she took in the sight of my multiple appendages simultaneously attending to all three horses.

“With you around, I’d never have a jealous horse,” she laughed, the sound echoing pleasantly off the interior walls.

I tilted my head, processing the concept. “They have the capacity for... what is jealousy?” I asked, raising one human eyebrow while maintaining the brushing rhythm with my tentacles.

“Oh, well,” Tammy cocked her head thoughtfully. “It’s like when you see someone else getting what you want, and you can’t have it. Jealousy.”

“Ah,” I nodded, making the connection to my own experience. “Like when I did not receive the research grant for the Fordjan asteroid field. They gave it to Crepsus and his foolish study of deep currents on Tolivay, long rendered dry.”

“Sure, exactly,” Tammy said slowly, with a shake of her head that suggested my comparison wasn’t entirely accurate. Her smile remained, however, soft and warm in a way that created inexplicable fluctuations in my core temperature. “Come on, I made some coffee. I can’t sleep either, and I feel bad you guys are working through the night.”

I carefully extracted my tentacles, allowing them to revert to human form before following her. As we exited the structure, I glanced back at the horses, now peacefully returning to the hay we’d piled within their makeshift stalls. The sensor grid glowed softly on my tablet, a protective net of technology spread over these creatures that had somehow transitioned from research subjects to entities worthy of my protection.

A troubling development for a scientist committed to objective observation. More troubling still was how little that fact bothered me.