Page 3 of Roping the Alien Cowboy

Her words were plain enough but carried weight—the gravity of events beyond our control shaping our destinies without consent or warning.

“You’re far from home,” I observed dryly.

Kate chuckled humorlessly. “You could say that.”

Silence stretched between us like taut leather ready to snap under too much strain. Finally, she broke it with a question that pierced straight to my core concern: “What will happen to me now?”

I held her gaze firmly as I replied with equal candor, “That depends on many things—your intentions here among them.”

“I don’t want trouble,” she assured quickly. “I just want to get back home.”

The earnestness in her voice gave me pause; perhaps there was no ulterior motive here beyond survival—a concept not unfamiliar even to us Surlons.

“We’ll see what can be done once you’ve recovered,” I promised without commitment and stood up to leave.

As I exited into daylight once more, questions continued to haunt me—about Kate, about what changes she might unwittingly bring upon us all—but one thing was certain: Dust Gulch would uphold its code even when faced with mysteries from beyond our stars.

* * *

Three days later…

The first rays of dawn stretched over the horizon, casting a warm glow on the rugged outlines of Surlon. I stood at the edge of the village, watching as the twin suns promised another scorching day. The air was still cool, a rare treat before the heat set in. A new day also meant new challenges, especially with Kate among us.

Since her arrival, Kate’s presence had been like a stone in a boot—uncomfortable, impossible to ignore. She was the only human on Surlon, her stature shorter than ours, her skin a pale contrast to our deep blue hues. Her hair, the color of ripened wheat under the Surlon suns, fell in waves past her shoulders. She didn’t just stick out, she shone like a beacon.

I watched as she emerged from the healer’s house, squinting against the morning light. She moved with purpose, wasting no time on uncertainty. Despite her obvious disorientation in this new world, she held her head high—a warrior’s stance in an unfamiliar battleground.

Kate caught sight of me and approached. “Kian,” she greeted.

“Kate,” I replied with equal measure. “How are you this morning?”

“Better than yesterday,” she said. Her words carried an accent unfamiliar to my ears but were clear enough. “Your healer’s been kind.”

I glanced toward the healer’s hut with respect for its occupant. “She has remedies for many ailments.”

We walked together toward the heart of the village where Surlons were already busy with their morning tasks. Children darted between huts, their laughter cutting through the quietude like birdsong.

Kate observed everything with keen eyes, taking in details that would escape most outsiders. “You have a beautiful village,” she said earnestly.

I swelled with pride despite myself. “It’s our home.”

As we reached the village center, heads turned and conversations paused. The sight of Kate still drew curiosity and whispers among my people. I sensed their unease—a natural response to the unknown.

“I don’t want to be a burden,” Kate said quietly as she noticed the attention.

“You’re not,” I assured her quickly. “It’s just... we’ve never had someone like you here before.”

Her lips curved into a wry smile. “Guess I’m not exactly blending in.”

“Not exactly,” I conceded.

We stopped by a group of Surlons tending to siroccos—our loyal companions and steeds—grooming their sleek hides and whispering to them softly.

“What are they doing?” Kate asked, her curiosity piqued by the sight.

“They’re bonding with their siroccos,” I explained. “Our connection with them goes beyond mere riding, it’s spiritual.”

Her gaze lingered on one of our youngest villagers, a boy named Jorin, who hummed an ancient melody to his sirocco partner—a song meant to strengthen their bond.

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