Cowboy!Alfred F.Jones

Alfred narrows his eyes a little when your father attempts to shoo him away, surely he’s not stupid enough to sent off the man helping him out. He gives the house a wave, putting on an easy smile. It’s hot out, as it usually is a month before summer. He’ll have to get back on the road soon, lead the cattle across the country again. A part of him doesn’t miss it, but he’s sure by the end of spring he’ll have something more than just cattle to guide back to his home. Put plainly he needs a wife, someone to ride the river with per se. Sure, he could stroll around town and find a woman looking for a man but he’s not interested in them, not when you’re right there.

He can see the man shooing you away from the window, much to his dismay, but he’ll pretend to not notice. He’ll be seeing you at dinner anyway, and maybe a little bit after that if he’s lucky. He focuses on the task at hand, lifting another barrel into the farm house before dusting off his hands and looking at his work. He’s done enough for today, though his employer would beg to differ. Though as much as he dislikes your father, he won’t bad mouth him. The man took him in when he didn’t have a tail feather left, he can afford agreeing to disagreeing with your father if it means he can still see you.

He strolls out of the farm house, tipping his hat to your window when he sees that you’re watching. He motions for you to come outside, untying his horse from his post. He stares at the ground for a moment, rethinking everything he wants to tell you. He can’t just tell you to marry him outright, it wouldn’t be that easy, not with your father hanging around you like a horsefly. He turns to you when he hears your footsteps, a soft smile on his lips at the hope in your eyes. He refrains from brushing his fingers across your cheek, clenching his hands together tightly to make sure he doesn’t slip up and move when he’s not supposed to. He tilts his hat forward, an easygoing smile on his lips as he watches you curtsy in response. How sweet of you, curtsying for a cowboy like him.

“Missus.”

He refrains from mounting his horse, hyper aware of your father’s eyes burning into his skull. It’s not like he’s doing anything wrong, he’s just talking with the young lady of the house. Ignoring the blush that spreads across his cheeks as he focuses back onto you, eyes flickering over your dress and rosy cheeks. What luck he has, catching the eye of someone like you. If he’s lucky he’ll get your father’s blessing, god knows your mother approves of him.