Page 56 of Roping Her Alien Ranchers

The first tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it, hot and shameful. Then another. And another. Until they were falling in earnest, my vision blurring as my carefully constructed walls crumbled.

“Tammy?” Cyro’s voice came from somewhere to my right, uncertain and concerned.

I couldn’t answer. Couldn’t even look at them. Every fear I’d been suppressing rushed to the surface at once—the impending foreclosure, the failing breeding program, the dwindling bank account, the crushing loneliness of fighting this battle alone. Derek’s smug certainty that I would fail echoed in my mind, and the worst part was that some small, traitorous part of me believed him.

What if he was right? What if this was all just delaying the inevitable? The aliens would leave eventually. They’d fix their ship, collect their water samples, and disappear back into the stars. And I’d be alone again, just the owner of a half-fixed ranch I couldn’t afford to maintain and horses I couldn’t afford to feed.

I heard the aliens exchanging words in their own language—a series of wet clicks and undulating tones that sounded like whale song and electronic music had a baby. I didn’t like when they did that. I wanted to know what they were saying. I only understood when they spoke aloud and the translator did its magic, delivering words to my ears and brain.

Through my tears, I saw them gesturing to one another, seemingly at a loss for how to respond. Their bodies sparked with tiny lights. Stars across their bodies even in daytime. It was like they carried the universe with them. They couldn’t stay on Earth. It wouldn’t be natural.

“Should we...” Kalith began, his voice trailing off uncertainly.

“On our planet, such distress would require—” Vantor started.

“Yes,” Cyro interrupted, his voice firm with sudden decision.

I wiped futilely at my cheeks, embarrassment burning through me. “I’m sorry,” I managed, my voice catching on the words. “I don’t usually⁠—”

The words died in my throat as I felt something warm and impossibly gentle brush against my cheek. I was glad for the interruption. It was best that I didn’t finish the lie.

I blinked through tears to find Cyro standing before me, his human disguise partially dissolved around one arm. A slender, iridescent tentacle had extended from where his wrist should be, its tip delicately catching a teardrop as it rolled down my face.

I froze, my breath catching.

“On our world,” he said softly, his voice reverent, “such moisture is sacred.”

The tentacle withdrew, cradling the tear as if it were a precious gem. His metallic eyes met mine, and I saw something profound in their depths—not pity, but a kind of solemn respect.

Kalith stepped forward next, his human form similarly melting away around one hand. A forest-green tentacle uncoiled with surprising grace, reaching out to gently collect another tear from my other cheek. “Water is life,” he murmured. “And these waters come from your essence.”

Before I could process this, Vantor joined them, a burgundy-hued tentacle extending to brush softly beneath my eye. “In our deepest rituals,” he explained, his usually stern voice gentled, “we share the waters of our beings.”

I stood motionless as their tentacles moved with incredible tenderness across my face, gathering my tears with reverent care. The sensation was unlike anything I’d ever experienced—warm and slightly textured, the sucker ridges softened and careful against my skin. It should have been terrifying or disgusting or at least deeply weird. Instead, it felt... sacred. Like they’d said.

“What happens to them?” I whispered, watching as the tentacles curled protectively around their collected tears.

Cyro’s human face softened into a smile that seemed more genuine than any he’d shown before. “We absorb them,” he said simply. “They become part of us, as your kindness already has.”

As if to demonstrate, the tentacles slowly retracted, the tears disappearing into their alien flesh. For a moment, their skin glowed faintly where the tears had been absorbed—subtle, shimmering patterns that reminded me of starlight on water.

I looked up at them through the last of my tear-blurred vision, struck by the tenderness in their strange eyes. Beautifully half human and half alien. For a moment, we stood together in silence. The strange, intimate ritual felt odd performed in the open with sunlight pressing down on our bodies.

From the paddock, I heard Mystery’s soft nicker and Sassafras’s answering whicker. The sound of them pulled me back into reality. I glanced over to see both horses standing at the fence, watching us with unusual stillness, as if they too sensed the importance of the moment.

The last of my tears dried, leaving behind that peculiar hollowed-out feeling that comes after a good cry. But a wondrous other sensation remained as well. It was warm and solid, like a small ember glowing in my chest.

“Thank you,” I said simply, because what else could you say after aliens collected your tears as part of a sacred rite?

Cyro nodded, his human disguise settling back into place, though his eyes retained that metallic alien gleam. “It is we who thank you, Tammy Tucker. Not all beings would welcome strangers so different from themselves.”

“Or share their water essence so freely,” added Kalith with a crooked smile.

I straightened my shoulders, drawing in a deep breath that seemed to fill the hollow spaces inside me. “I’m not going to let that dickhead get to me again,” I said, and was surprised to find I meant it. “Derek Morgan can take his offer and shove it up his⁠—"

“Bodily waste orifice?” Vantor suggested helpfully.

A startled laugh burst from my throat, the sound strange after so many tears. “Something like that,” I agreed.