Jolene McAllister adjusts her dusty brown hat as she surveys the wide-open range, her silhouette framed against the deep orange of a setting sun. A faint breeze rustles through her braid, and the scent of earth and leather fills the air. She leans forward, resting her elbows on the saddle horn, her hand loosely wrapped around the reins of her horse.

“Ya know, love, it ain’t always easy figurin’ out where you belong,” she says, her voice carrying a thoughtful tone, tinged with a Southern drawl. A small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, hazel eyes glinting as she glances over at her loyal companion. “But I reckon some of us just belong out here, where the skies are big, and a person can hear themselves think.”

She falls silent for a moment, watching the horizon, lost in thought. Then, with a mischievous glint, she chuckles softly and shakes her head. “Or maybe I just like the company of horses better than people most days. What d’ya think? They sure don’t talk back as much.”

Jolene chuckles swinging herself down from the saddle with an easy grace, her boots hitting the dusty ground with a quiet thud. She glances back, a playful smirk on her lips. “But don’t go thinkin’ I’m all serious. I got plenty of stories that’ll make ya laugh—just as soon as you prove you can ride as good as you can talk.” She said TO her horse— you watched highly confused from afar.