Page 53 of Roping Her Alien Ranchers

I bit my tongue. It was a piece of crap, older than I was, and I hadn’t even used it yet. I only knew it turned on; the sellers had said they’d leave all the ranch equipment as a buying bonus. What they didn’t say is they’d left all their junk and made it all seem like a gift. But I might need it eventually, and replacing it wasn’t in my nonexistent budget.

“Well, that’s the whole of it.” I shrugged, walking back out of the equipment building. “It’s not much, but it’s mine. At least, it’s mine until the bank takes it back.”

“You have mentioned your financial woes before,” Cyro spoke, “Is it consuming you?”

“Well, when you’re on the verge of losing your home, you tend to worry a lot.” A wave of emotion flooded me, and I looked up at the hot afternoon sun, blinking back dampness. Crying solved nothing.

“We understand your situation.” Kalith sounded sad. “We are here for samples in hopes of repairing our oceans.”

“I’m sorry,” I stuttered out, feeling awkward. How could I compare losing this ranch to losing an entire world?

Cyro’s eyes met mine, and something passed between us—a moment of understanding, perhaps, or simple curiosity. “We appreciate your hospitality, Tammy Tucker. Not all species would be so accommodating to unexpected visitors.”

“Well,” I sighed, looking around at my rundown ranch with its leaning buildings and overgrown pastures, “hospitality might be the only thing I have in abundance right now.”

“You also have us now,” Kalith beamed at me. “Give us a few days and we’ll have this ranch brand new.”

Three aliens disguised as humans stood near me, gazing out at my failing ranch with what seemed like genuine interest. My life had taken a turn toward the bizarre, and yet somehow, standing there with them felt oddly right. Less lonely. Less worried. Less expecting the sky to fall down on me, because it already kind of had.

“I’m glad you crash-landed in Kansas,” I said absentmindedly.

But… I meant it.

And I wasn’t sure if that was comforting or terrifying.

18

TAMMY

Once upon a time, I’d thought Derek was the kind of Alpha that any Omega would want. Now, I saw that he was less of a man than three aliens wearing human meat suits.

Late afternoon light spilled across my porch steps as I sat in the old rocker with my boots propped up on the smooth, splinter-free railing. Kalith had rescued the chair from the belly of the equipment barn, quickly repairing it to a useable state. I hadn’t even known there was furniture abandoned behind the tractors beneath faded tarps. A few hours of exploration, and the aliens were discovering things I’d missed despite having been here for much, much longer.

It was mind boggling how quickly they were making progress. Kalith seemed to be able to fix anything. Cyro was making wondrous strides with the horses. And Vantor… well, all he cared about was “strengthening the defensive capabilities” of the property.

I was nursing a lukewarm beer and watching three hot-as-heck aliens renovate my ramshackle ranch. If someone had told me a week ago that extraterrestrial cephalopods would be my salvation, I’d have laughed myself sick. Yet there they were—Cyro, Kalith, and Vantor—their forms moving with inhuman efficiency as they transformed my property in ways I’d only dreamed about. Honestly, I think part of me was expecting to lose the place any day, so putting my heart into repairs felt painful.

At one point, I had tried to help them. Honestly, I’d gotten in their way.

Down in the paddock, Cyro was leading Mystery in gentle circles, the stallion’s ears perked forward with interest instead of pinned back in disdain. One of Cyro’s tentacles was arched over the Quarter Horse, scratching behind his right ear. My jaw had nearly hit the porch floorboards the first time I noticed Mystery trailing after him like some besotted puppy. That horse had spent months treating me like I was invisible at best, contemptible at worst. Now here he was, practically nuzzling an alien’s palm for attention.

“How did you do that?” I’d asked earlier, when I first witnessed the miracle.

Cyro had simply shrugged, his human shoulders moving with that too-fluid grace. “I learned to speak his language correctly. Kalith may have luck, but I have learning.” Then he’d made that ridiculous whinnying sound again, and—impossibly—Mystery had responded with a soft nicker.

I took another swig of beer, wondering if I’d somehow slipped into an alternate dimension where everything made sense in the most nonsensical way possible.

Across the yard, Kalith was half-hidden inside the supply barn as he repaired the extensive damage. His human disguise was less controlled than the others, revealing all his forest-green tentacles as he worked. He’d been at it since mid-morning, using some kind of material he’d retrieved from their cloaked ship—a substance that looked like shimmering putty but hardened instantly into something stronger than concrete. The entire north wall, which had been one stiff breeze away from total collapse, now stood straight and solid. Soon, he’d have the other four solidly in place, I was sure.

When I’d peeked in earlier, he’d been humming something that sounded like whale song crossed with a dial-up modem, his hands—occasionally splitting into tentacles when he thought I wasn’t looking—moving with practiced precision.

“This compound mimics your wooden structures but has five times the tensile strength,” he’d explained enthusiastically. “It will self-repair minor damage and resist your weather patterns for approximately fifty Earth years.”

“That’s... convenient,” I’d managed to reply, wondering how much a contractor would charge for alien building materials. Forget pine and cedar, this was intergalactic platinum diamond alloy. I mean, it probably wasn’t that at all, but it sounded weird and expensive.

Now, as the sun hovered halfway between afternoon and evening, I found myself relaxing into daydreams.

Visions of Sunflower Hills brought to life.