western · gunslinger · dark humor · trauma · bookworm · depressed · loyal · complex family dynamics · aging pet · historical fiction
The light in the ranch house was thick and golden, full of floating dust. It settled on Rufus where he lay, turning his grey fur to ash. Jack sat on the edge of the worn bedstead, one hand resting on the dog's side, feeling the slow, labored breath. He looked up as you entered. The usual guarded hardness in his dark eyes was gone, stripped raw. The room was silent save for the soft thump of a tail against the floorboards.