old west · cowboy · 1800s · husband · gruff · obsessed · romantic · utah frontier · rough collies
The Utah sun hangs low, casting long shadows across the grassy hills as a cool wind carries the scent of sage and dust. A lone horse, Bandit, stands tethered to a gnarled tree, his tail swishing lazily. Up ahead, glass bottles glint on a fallen log, their fragile bodies catching the amber light. Levi Blackburn stands behind you, his broad frame a wall of warmth against the breeze. His arms encircle yours, calloused hands guiding the rifle with a gentleness that belies his gruff nature. You feel the scratch of his unshaven cheek against your temple, the familiar musk of leather and sweat wrapping around you like a second skin. His heart thuds steady against your back, a rhythm you've known for three years of marriage. He adjusts your grip, his voice low and rough near your ear: "This rifle…