Please Take It Easy, I Have Not Been Loved In Years

The July sun burned hot over the Montana plains, but Sierra Donnelly felt only the cold weight of loneliness. 15 years a widow, 15 years of working sun up to sundown, and 15 years since anyone had looked at her like she was more than a rancher with calloused hands. People in Cedar Ridge called her proud, stubborn, and too independent for her own good.

They did not know the truth. Sierra wasn’t proud. She was tired of being disappointed. The double D ranch stretched wide and wild under a sky bigger than any dream. Her cattle dotted the fields like brown specks against rolling green. Inside her weathered house, every board creaked like it carried memories.

 The walls listened to silence more than laughter. Her bed stayed cold every night, and her heart stayed locked tight. Then one evening, as storm clouds gathered over the crazy mountains, a rider approached her gate. Sierra spotted him when she was gathering tomatoes from her garden. The young cowboy rode, slumped in his saddle, gripping the rains with trembling fingers.

 Dust covered him from hat to boots, and dark red blood stained his shirt. He looked ready to fall. Sierra set down her basket and hurried toward the fence. When the writer stopped, he tipped his hat with effort. “Ma’am,” he said, voice rough and dry, “begging your pardon, but could I trouble you for some water?” “For me and my horse.

” “You’re hurt,” Sierra said, her sharp eyes already studying the wound. “Just a scratch,” the cowboy tried to joke, but his legs nearly gave out as he dismounted. Sierra caught his arm quickly. Her grip was strong for a woman of 58. “Easy now. You’re safe here. What’s your name? Blake. He breathed. Blake Harrington. Sierra helped him into the kitchen where the smell of stew filled the room.

Lamplight flickered over the cowboy’s pale face as she cleaned his wound with steady hands. Looks like a bullet glanced you. She observed. Blake nodded. Didn’t plan on being in a gunfight today. Most men don’t. Sierra replied as she wrapped the bandage around his ribs. His eyes studied her face.

 Not the way some men looked at a wealthy widow with land. Not the way others judged her age. He looked at her like she mattered. Sierra cleared her throat. You’ll stay the night. He tried to protest. Don’t want to bring trouble here. Sierra stood firm. You can barely sit upright. Trouble or not, I won’t turn away someone who needs help. Quote.

 Blake finally nodded. Too weary to argue. They ate together at her kitchen table. Blake’s hands shook as he lifted the spoon. But after the first bite, he ate like a starving man. Been riding long? Sierra asked days. Blake said softly. Ryden away from something. Can’t say where I’m headed yet. Sierra studied him closely.

 Under the dirt and weariness, she saw a man burdened by more than a bullet. Fear lived in his eyes, but something gentle lived there, too. When he finished eating, Sierra showed him to the guest room upstairs. “There’s clean sheets,” she said. “And rest.” “You’ll need it. Thank you,” Blake said, voice sincere.

 “You’ve already done more than I deserve.” Sierra paused at the door, a strange, nervous warmth stirring inside her. “Get some sleep,” she said. “Well talk more in the morning.” Hours later, rain beat against the windows as Sierra lay awake in bed. Her house had not felt this alive in years. She could hear Blake shifting upstairs, settling into rest.

 It reminded her what it was like to not be alone. The next morning, Sierra expected to wake to silence. Instead, she found Blake carrying two buckets of milk from the barn. “I figured I could lend a hand,” he said shily. “Least I can do.” Quote. Sierra raised a brow. No man had worked beside her since her husband died. “The help felt strange, but good.

 Breakfast is ready,” she said, trying to hide her smile. “They ate together again.” Blake moved carefully, but color had returned to his cheeks. “Why do you live all alone out here?” he asked. Sierra shrugged. “Life didn’t turn out the way I thought it would.” “No children,” Blake asked gently. “No,” she replied. Some dreams don’t grow the way you hope.

Blake looked down, respectful. Sierra noticed his hands calloused like a real working man, not a drifter chasing whiskey and cards. She liked that. Later, they saddled horses together and rode the pasture. Sierra watched how Blake moved in the saddle, confident, steady, like a man who had spent his life riding the land.

 When he studied her cattle, he knew exactly what he was looking at. “These are mighty fine stock,” he said. “Someone with sense runs this ranch.” Sierra’s cheeks warmed at the compliment. Just doing what needs to be done, Blake dismounted to check a loose fence post. Sierra watched him work, unable to stop the small spark inside her.

 It felt dangerous. It felt alive. On the ride back, Blake’s voice was quiet. Sometimes a man spends so long running he forgets what it feels like to stop. Sierra looked at him, her heart thutdding. You can rest here a while. There’s work enough for two if you’re willing. Blake met her eyes. Something vulnerable flickering there. I’d like that.

That evening, thunder rolled low over the ranch. Sierra went to check the barn doors before the storm hit. Blake was there feeding the horses, rain dripping from his hair. He turned toward her. “You’ve given me more kindness than I know what to do with,” he said. “I haven’t had a real roof over my head in a long time.

” Sierra stepped closer, feeling the storm wind whip her hair. “You are welcome here,” she said quietly. For a moment, they simply looked at each other. Lightning lit the sky and everything felt electric and frightening and wonderful. Blake reached up slowly, like giving her time to refuse. Sierra did not move away. His hand brushed her cheek.

 “Rough and warm Sierra,” he whispered. And before either of them thought better of it, she rose onto her toes and kissed him. It was soft, surprising, a spark after years of cold. When they pulled apart, they were both breathless. The storm raged on, but Sierra felt a different kind of storm inside her. One she wasn’t sure she could control and wasn’t sure she wanted to.

 Because for the first time in 15 years, she felt alive. The storm passed in the night, but the storm inside Sierra did not fade so easily. She woke before dawn, her heart still racing from the memory of Blake’s kiss. She dressed quickly and moved through her morning routine with familiar precision, trying to quiet the feelings twisting inside her.

 Blake was gone from the guest bed, and for a painful moment, Sierra feared he might have slipped away in the dark. But when she entered the kitchen, she found him standing by the stove, buttering biscuits like he had lived there all his life. “Hope you don’t mind,” Blake said, smiling just a little. “Thought I’d get breakfast started.” Sierra slowed her breathing.

He was still here. I don’t mind, she said. Their eyes met. Both remembered the kiss. Neither spoke of it. After breakfast, Blake insisted on working. More than that, he wanted to stay and earn his place. He fixed the loose shutter, repaired a broken fence rail, and swept the barn aisle so clean Sierra hardly recognized it.

 As the days passed, Blake settled into ranch life like a man who had finally found solid ground. He joked with the cows, named the stubborn rooster Marshall, and somehow convinced the old barn cat to tolerate him. Sierra found herself laughing again, real laughter that filled the quiet halls of her home. But with happiness came fear.

One afternoon, Sierra watched Blake from the kitchen window. He was shirts sleeved, hammering a new board on the gate. He worked with steady strength, sweat darkening the fabric across his shoulders. He looked like a man who belonged to the land, a man who belonged to her. She touched the window frame, her heart trembling with hope she had not felt in years.

That evening, while the sun bled orange across the prairie, Blake leaned against the porch rail. Thoughtful Sierra, he said slowly, “I want to stay. Not just until I’m healed.” Longer, her breath caught. How much longer? As long as you’ll let me. Blake looked at her with steady courage. I’ll work every day harder than anyone you’ve ever hired.

 I want to help you carry the weight of this place. Sierra stared at him, fighting the happiness rising inside her. Why? She asked softly. You don’t owe me anything. Quote, Blake looked out at the land. For the first time in my life, I don’t feel like I’m running from something. I feel like I finally stopped.

 His words rested in the air like a prayer answered. She stepped closer. This ranch, it’s a lot to take on. I’m not afraid of work, he whispered. No, Sierra said, her voice unsteady. I mean, it’s a lot to take on with me. Blake turned, meeting her eyes. Sierra, I see you. Not just the ranch. Not just the strong woman everyone depends on. I see you. The wind stilled.

Sierra’s heartbeat so loud she could barely hear anything else. Blake took her hands gently. I want to court you proper. And if one day you’ll have me, I want to build a life here with you. Sierra swallowed hard. She was 58. He was 30. What right did she have to dream? And yet here he was offering her everything she had silently wished for.

“You’re so young, Blake,” she whispered. “You could have a wife your own age. Children, a different future.” Blake shook his head. “I thought I wanted that once. Someone young. Someone who needed me to take charge.” His voice softened. “But then I met you. A woman who doesn’t need saving.

 A woman who chooses me anyway. Quote. Blake’s thumb brushed the back of her hand, slow and tender. You make me feel like the man I want to be. Sierra felt her defenses cracking the wall she built stone by stone over years of solitude. But fear lingered sharp in her chest. I have secrets, Blake. She admitted things I’ve never told anyone.

Whatever they are, Blake said, they won’t scare me off. Sierra hesitated, but not with her heart. with caution. I’m not what I seem. She warned. People think I live modest because I have no choice, but I choose to live this way. Blake frowned. What do you mean? Sierra took a slow breath.

 This ranch and many of the businesses in town, they’re mine. All mine. I don’t show my money. It changes how people act. Blake stared, surprise, flickering across his features. You’re wealthy. Very,” Sierra admitted, bracing herself. Blake was silent for a long moment. Then he stepped closer and looked into her eyes. “I didn’t fall for your money.

” He said, “I fell for the woman who wakes up before dawn to milk her own cows. Who works harder than any ranch hand, who cooks me stew and worries if I’m warm enough? That’s the woman I’m asking to stay beside.” Quote. Sierra exhaled in relief, shoulder sinking as years of fear loosened. Blake smiled, then slow and sure, and touched her cheek.

 “I don’t want your money, Sierra. I want you.” The porch light flickered in the wind. The horses rustled in the barn. The world felt small and full and perfect. Sierra reached up and held his face gently between her hands. “Then “Stay,” she whispered. Blake leaned in to kiss her, soft and steady, like a promise.

 But just as their lips were about to meet, thunder cracked in the distance, not from the sky, but from the road leading into the ranch. Hoof beats hard, fast, angry. Blake stiffened instantly, his hand going to his side where his gun should be. Sierra felt her throat tighten. Blake, who would be coming here at this hour? Blake’s voice dropped low and tense.

 Men I left behind in Billings,” he said. “Men who don’t believe that gunfight was fair.” Sierra’s heart lurched. The pass Blake tried to outrun had found him, and it was riding straight toward their door. The hoof beatats grew louder, pounding like thunder rolling across the plains. Sierra and Blake stepped off the porch, their eyes fixed on the dark riders approaching through the dusk.

 Three men on horseback slowed at the gate. Their horses snorted and pawed the dirt. They wore hard expressions, hats low, guns visible at their belts. The leader, a tall man with a scar down his cheek, called out, “We’re looking for a fellow named Blake Harrington.” Blake stepped forward, shoulders squared.

 “You found him.” The scarred man grinned without warmth. “You ran off after that fight in Billings.” “That ain’t how things end. You owe us.” Sierra felt the sharp sting of fear in her chest, but she also felt something else. anger. These men had come into her home, her land, threatening the cowboy she had dared to hope for.

 Blake moved in front of her. I don’t owe you a thing. That fight was fair. I won it. That ain’t what the boss thinks, the man replied. And the boss wants what’s his is. We’re done talking, Blake said. Before violence could erupt, Sierra stepped forward. This is private land, she said, her voice strong. You boys can keep riding or we can finish this in town with the sheriff. The scarred man sneered.

 Lady, money might buy you a lot, but it won’t buy him out of this. Sierra’s eyes flashed. She stood taller, unafraid. I am not the buying kind, she said. But I protect what’s mine. Blake’s breath caught at her words. What’s mine? The men shifted uneasily, glancing around at the ranch. Something about Sierra’s confidence made them hesitate.

 She looked like a woman who had faced storms before and never bowed. “If you try taking him,” Sierra added, “you’ll regret it.” The scarred man’s smirk faded. Blake stepped beside her, handbrushing hers. A quiet promise passed between them. Finally, the leader spat into the dust. This ain’t over, he growled. We’ll be back.

 Then you’ll be sorry, Sierra replied. The writers turned and galloped away into the fading light. Silence filled the ranch again. Blake exhaled, shaking with adrenaline. Sierra, you shouldn’t have. I will not hide from anyone, she said firmly. And I won’t let them take you. Blake stared at her like she was the fiercest thing he’d ever seen.

 You’d risk your ranch, your life for me. Sierra touched his cheek with gentle fingers. You said you wanted to help carry the weight of this place. I want to help carry yours. Emotion shook Blake’s voice. I haven’t had anyone stand for me in a long time. You do now, Sierra whispered. Blake leaned his forehead against hers. The moment holding them close.

 I love you, Sierra Donnelly. He breathed. Every day I’ve been here. That feeling grew stronger. Sierra’s eyes burned with tears. She refused to hide. “I love you, too, Blake. I never thought I’d feel this again.” He kissed her slow, deep, full of every wound and every hope they carried. “When they parted, Sierra wiped her eyes with a small laugh.

 “If you plan to stay,” she teased lightly. “There’s something you should know.” “What’s that?” Blake asked, still breathless. Sierra took his hand and placed it over her heart. This place is yours, too, now, not because you asked, but because you earned it. Blake swallowed hard. I’ll spend every morning and night proving you made the right choice.

 They stood together as the stars came out one by one. The land peaceful once more. The danger had not vanished. Blake’s past would return someday, but they would face it side by side. Later that night, with the windows open and the summer air drifting through, Blake laid beside Sierra for the first time. Not as a stranger seeking shelter, not as a runaway, but as the man she had chosen, she looked at him in the moonlight.

 “Take it easy,” she whispered with a smile. “I have not been gardened in years.” Blake laughed softly, kissed her hand, and held her close. “You make me feel like I finally found home,” he said. Sierra breathed in the warm scent of horses and hay and the man who had changed everything you did, she whispered. We both did.

 Outside the wind swept across the grasslands, calm and steady. The double D ranch slept under the wide Montana sky. Tomorrow would come with new work, new challenges, and new hope. But tonight, Sierra Donny’s heart was no longer lonely. She had someone to share the dawn with, someone who would