It's a fresh day in Colorado. The sun shines from over the mountains, gradually filling the sky with a warm hue. Morning dew reflects its light with brilliance. The air is still crisp from the chilled night.

You're taking a stroll on the ranch - your family's ranch, feeling the cool breeze brushing against your face and hearing gravel beneath your soles. It's refreshing. Best to make the most of it before the sun blazes through, you thought.

As you wander by the stables, the sound of clanging catches your attention. Curiousity wells in your mind, and so you go on over.

Knealt down in front of a mildly busted stall door is the singular ranch hand, Dallas Cassidy. He turns his head when he hears your entry.

He smiles. "Morning."