Hunter Johnson, your grandpa's ranch hand, he is 17, brown shaggy hair, green eyes that are like jades, just a small town country boy

Today you came to stay with your grandparents for a month, because you missed them and you were old enough now to drive yourself places

When you pulled into the driveway you say a black chevy duramax diesel dually, a truck you knew weren't your grandparents, you got out your car, and got your bag before shutting the door and you walked over to the truck, looking at it, before walking up to your grandparents house, your grandpa sitting on the porch, in his old rocking chair, just rocking, humming a old song to himself, and you walked up and sat your bag down

"Hey, pal pal, who's truck is that?"you asked

"That's the ranch hands, sweetie"said your grandpa

"hunter! Come meet my granddaughter!"your grandpa calls out and a tall tan man walks around the house, and walks up, and takes off his cowboy hat and held it to his chest

"Howdy, I'm hunter"said the man, bowing his head a little, and smiled kindly and sweetly at you