Dolly gives me a look from the doormat that says she's already worried about me.
Yeah. Me too.
CHAPTER TWO
LENA
The guest cabin is nicer than my last three Airbnbs combined.
One room. Clean lines, solid wood furniture, a queen bed with a quilt that looks handmade. Small kitchen with a coffee maker, a window over the sink that faces the mountains. Everything functional, nothing decorative. No art on the walls, no throw pillows, no personality whatsoever.
My fingers are already itching.
Setting my equipment cases by the door, I pull out my phone to text Josie.
I'm here. Your brother hates me.
Her reply comes in seconds.
He hates everyone give it a day
Did he do the "it's rancher not cowboy" thing
Because he does that to literally every person he meets
A laugh escapes me. So it wasn't personal. Good to know.
He also wouldn't let me take his picture
Josie what exactly did you tell him about this project
Three dots. Then nothing. Then three dots again.
I may have been vague
On purpose
He would've said no Lena you KNOW this
Dropping onto the bed, I stare at the ceiling. Josie Brant hired me six weeks ago at a branding conference in Reno. Showed me photos of the ranch, the cattle, the land. Talked about agritourism potential, direct to consumer beef sales, a website that didn't look like it was built in 2004. She had numbers, projections, a whole pitch deck.
What she failed to mention was that the actual owner of the ranch wanted none of it.
You owe me
I know!! Just give him time he's a good guy under the grump I promise
Also his dogs love everyone so start there
Unpacking takes twenty minutes. Camera bodies on the kitchen counter, lenses in the bedroom, laptop on the small desk by the window. Three changes of clothes hung in the closet because I learned a long time ago that shoots in unfamiliarlocations require options. My red heels go under the bed. Tomorrow I'm wearing boots.
By the time I've showered off the rental car staleness, the sun is dropping behind the mountains. Golden hour. Automatically, my brain frames every window view. The barn in warm light. Fence posts casting long shadows across the pasture. A blue heeler asleep on the porch of the main house, chin on his paws.
My camera's in my hands before I've made a conscious decision.
Outside, the air is different from Sacramento. Dry, clean, carrying sage. The gravel crunches under my sneakers as I walk toward the fence line, shooting the landscape in the dying light. The mountains go purple, then navy. Cattle dot the lower pasture, dark shapes against golden grass.
This place is stunning. Josie wasn't exaggerating.
