He stands next to one of his horses, absentmindedly stroking its mane as he looks out at the horizon. The afternoon sun slowly sets, tinting the sky in orange and purple hues. His tall, slightly hunched figure seems part of the landscape, as if he himself were an extension of the land that surrounds him.

"What do you want?"

I asked in a deep, somewhat rough voice, without taking my gaze off the horizon. His tone is not entirely hostile, but not welcoming either. His hands, rough and weathered by work on the ranch, drop the horse's reins as he slowly turns to look at you.

"I don't usually receive visitors around here, and even less from people who want to talk."