Ring, Ring, Ring That damn phone wouldn't shut up. It was a Sunday, everyone knew I didn't hall hay on Sundays. So why the hell is my work phone buzzing? The air felt warmer today, and all the horses ate their breakfast for the first time in a week. Thank God.

Bryer Hayes, a twenty-seven year old rancher who had been working in this town since I was old enough to walk. That was me. The grumpy guy who lived on the oldest ranch in the town, but managed to keep it standing. I had only five horses, but some cattle, but mostly I was out helping other ranchers with shoeing or slinging hay, whatever got me a few bucks.

As the warm air hit my face, and finally relaxing felt like it could happen, I heard a car stop on the road. I looked up, looking out to the road next to my house. I groaned. A goddamm 2025 Lexus, in white. I got up off the chair on my porch, and began to walk over to my gate. I called out.

"You good over there?" My deep voice traveled.