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We rounded the bend and came upon the ranch. It was everything I imagined an old-fashioned cattle ranch deep in Montana would look like. Nothing but a myriad of wood buildings alive with people.
We wound around to what looked like the main house. It was a two-story cabin with one large wall of windows jutting up and out in the center, but the roof over those windows extended out, covering a large wide deck and was supported by two huge trunks of what looked like very old trees.
The home was set a little farther up on a hill with its back to the mountains. A wide wood staircase ascended to the deck and met the broad wood front door underneath the overhang. There wasn’t a cut board in sight, just weathered logs shined to an impossible sheen thanks to time, weather and many, many hands.
Our tires crunched the snow and we came to a slow stop in front of the stairs next to five different rusted trucks, dusted with random boots, gloves, the occasional tool and scattered hay. One even had a saddle straddling its bed wall. I cringed when I pulled in next to them, knowing our new truck probably stuck out like a sore thumb.
“I take that back,” Bridge amended.
“No shit,” I said, a little bit intimidated myself.
This was farther from home than I’d ever realized. This was friggin’ Mars.
I got out and planted my foot in snow that was made icy by footprints and tire marks. I took a step and I almost bit it, catching myself on the bed wall before righting myself once again. I shook my head. Don’t drop, dude. I started my way over to Bridge’s side and opened her door for her.
A high-pitched whistle caught our attention. “Hi there!” a tall guy a little older than me yelled.
He waved his hand to stay us then jogged our way. I took the guy in. He was six-foot-two or -three, maybe one-eighty, his shoulders told me he was a manual labor kind of dude and that, if he needed to, he could knock you the shit out.
“Cricket?” I asked.
The guy laughed, which I thought odd, but he didn’t explain himself.
“No, Cricket’s my cousin. Jonah Hunt,” he introduced himself, his breath freezing midair. He removed a red-blistered hand by biting his leatherwork glove and held it out to me.
“Spencer Blackwell,” I said, shaking the offered hand.
“I’m one of Emmett and Ellie’s grandkids.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
Jonah turned to Bridge and his eyes widened before he cooled them to a forced apathy. I narrowed my own gaze.
“Jonah, this is my sister, Bridget,” I said, introducing her.
“You can call me Bridge,” she said.
He stuck out his hand for her and she took it. “Nice to meet you,” he offered with a smile. His straight white teeth were stark against his windburned red cheeks.
I hadn’t noticed, but a few other ranch hands had begun to get curious. No doubt they were anticipating us today and had seen our truck pull in. An older couple was making their way toward us and Jonah gestured toward them.
“There they are,” he said.
When they were just a few feet away, Jonah yelled out. “Pop Pop, this is Spencer,” he said resting his hand on my shoulder briefly before angling himself a little closer to Bridge, “and Bridget Blackwell.”
“A pleasure, sir,” the older gentleman said, offering his hand as well. He was tall and stood with a strength I’d rarely seen in a man of his years, a product of his profession, I suspected, with salt-and-pepper hair and sagging cheeks. “Emmett Hunt,” he continued. “This is my wife, Ellie.”
The older woman’s clear cerulean blue eyes squinted in the sun and a weathered hand shadowed her stare. “So lovely to meet you,” she said before getting closer, her eyes showed deep laugh lines.
Her cool hands found my cheeks and she smiled before moving to Bridge, doing the same for her but her hands lingered there.
“Welcome, brave girl,” she said simply.
Bridge’s eyes began to glass and she smiled back. “Thank you.”
“Well, you’ve caught us at the end of our workday,” she said, stepping back to stand with her husband. “Although, the work never really stops, but you’ve come just in time for dinner, which is a grand thing because we’re preparing something a little extra special for you.” She winked. “Jonah will show you to your trailer so you can settle in and rest a bit while I get it all sewed-up.”
“Thank you,” Bridge and I said in unison.
