Page 50 of Roping Her Alien Ranchers

“I would like to study the equines while we are stranded,” Cyro noted, though I think that was less to help me and more to satisfy his curiosity.

“I’m really in no position to reject help,” I admitted, then nodded. “Okay. Tomorrow, we can start the day out properly. I’ll show you the ropes.”

“What material are these ropes made of?” Kalith asked, a glint in his eye. “Are they organic or inorganic?”

“Not real ropes,” I laughed again, I couldn’t help myself, “It’s just a saying.”

“It is nonsensical,” Cyro observed.

“Yes, just like three aliens crash-landing on a ranch in Kansas,” I volleyed back. “Speaking of, how about we go pile a bunch of tree limbs onto the UFO so the big bad men in black don’t find out you’re here?”

Walking toward the destroyed supply building before they could answer, my brain began imagining what life on the ranch would be like with these three at my side.

Which was ridiculous.

Yet…

I pictured waking up before sunrise, brewing coffee for four, and standing on the porch with them as the sun crested over the horizon. Just me and a trio of Cthulhu aliens in disguise. A pang shot through my heart, thinking about how nice it would feel to not be so damn lonely all the time.

17

TAMMY

No, we don’t eat horses… and we don’t use their fecal matter for fuel.

The morning sun beat down on me as I guided my three very unexpected houseguests across the property. I knew they were aliens, obviously, but every time I glanced back to find them striding across my property looking like New York fashion week runway models—a true feat of handsomeness seeing as they were wearing cowboy chic, not haute couture—my inner Omega conveniently forgot what they truly were: tentacular beings from another world.

Gosh, they looked well rested. I wasn’t sure how. If I’d ended up stranded on a different planet, my anxiety would keep me awake all night. Added to that, they’d stayed up late working on their ship, eventually repairing whatever shield technology made it blend into its surroundings. It was properly fixed this time, so it wasn’t on the fritz the way it had before, seeming to shimmer in and out of existence.

Whereas they looked ready for the catwalk, I looked like roadkill. I’d managed about four hours of fitful sleep after tucking them into my spare bedroom and attic space, my mind churning with equal parts terror and fascination. Now, with first light barely breaking over the horizon, I was giving extraterrestrials a tour of my failing horse ranch. Not exactly how I’d planned to spend my Tuesday. Was it Tuesday? The disappointing days of failure sometimes blurred together. I should probably check the calendar. I could mark a big green box around the day the aliens crash-landed and treat that as the first day of the weirdest chapter of my so far unimpressive life.

I stifled a yawn as I entered the stables. They all followed, boots hitting the ground which somehow felt stranger than the sound of their tentacles moving. When I turned, each of them seemed to vibrate and gather themselves, settling their disguises solidly into place.

“When it’s just me, it’s okay to show your alien sides. But if other humans are here, like my vet might come over to check on Sassafras, then you really have to stay fully disguised. Okay?”

“We understand,” Vantor nodded, “It would be tactically unwise to reveal ourselves to potentially hostile humans.”

“My vet isn’t⁠—”

“Any being of any species on any world can become hostile,” Vantor interrupted firmly.

“Right, I guess that’s true.” I took a deep breath, not liking the thought that my docile, kind-faced vet could turn brutal. “Anyways, the morning feeding routine starts at six,” I explained, gesturing to the worn digital watch on my wrist. “Horses thrive on consistency. Most animals do. They get used to a schedule. I had a beagle as a kid and if his food bowl wasn’t full by exactly eight in the morning and five at night, he’d riot.”

“Ah, like the feeding protocols for our young ones,” Cyro said, nodding knowingly. His human disguise had changed slightly from yesterday, but I couldn’t put my finger on how. There was a little scar through one eyebrow which I thought was new, and his upper lip was more angular. His eyes were still a pale blue that leaned lavender, reminding me of his real body. When his gaze caught sunlight, though, an unsettling metallic sheen came to life.

“Exactly like... whatever you just said.” I walked to the rear of the stables where I’d stored the feed I hadn’t used up yesterday. As I passed their stalls, I greeted Mystery, Sass, and Artie. Cyro, Vantor, and Kalith followed, also acknowledging the horses.

Artie was cool as a cucumber of course, but even Mystery and Sassafras merely perked their ears as the aliens neared them.

“They seem... calmer,” I observed, momentarily forgetting the feed and cautiously approaching Mystery’s stall again. The stallion eyed me with his usual aristocratic disdain but didn’t back away. His gaze flicked to the aliens, and he gave them the same treatment.

At least I wasn’t special. The horse apparently treated everyone that way. Small comfort.

“That is because we are now emitting calming pheromones specifically designed for their species,” Vantor explained matter-of-factly, his stone-carved physique standing ramrod straight. “We can change our outsides, but we can also shift our scents to adapt to an environment and its natives. It is also an offensive advantage.”

I blinked slowly. “Gotcha,” I replied, wondering if the situation was going to get even weirder as time went on. Somehow, I knew the answer was yes. “So, you’re basically walking horse tranquilizers. That’s... convenient, I guess.”

Kalith grinned a crooked, charming smile that made me weak in the knees. Then, one of his human arms split into desert-hued tentacles and he reached out, stroking sucker-ridged skin down Sassafras’s back. I thought she might freak out, but the horse leaned into his touch happily. “We can modulate. Too much would render them unconscious.”