wasn’t it.” My shoulder presses against the window of our rental car as I strain to take in the landscape.
The town of Sierra Grande is in a valley, and it’s flat with scrubby large bushes. I was picturing the Hayden Ranch as a cabin-type home on the same landscape, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.
We drove north out of Sierra Grande and the bushes gave way to pine trees and cottonwoods. I hadn’t been expecting the vegetation, or the purple, orange, and pink wildflowers dotting the landscape.
“We just crossed over into Hayden Ranch territory,” my father says, his flattened palm running the length of an imaginary horizontal line.
“How could you possibly know that?” I ask, certain he’s about to make a joke.
“I studied a map of Beau Hayden’s property last night before I fell asleep.”
“Me too. The town, I mean. I researched the town. I learned a lot about what I think Sierra Grande is missing in terms of retail space.”
My dad glances over. He’s impressed. “You should tell Beau in the meeting.”
I nod, and nerves turn over in my stomach.
We continue to climb in elevation, and soon we’re running parallel to the town. The roads look like a grid, and a large street which I’ve learned is called High Street, runs through what is obviously the center of town where all the shops and stores are, and eventually gives way to homes. It has a decent-size population, but the way Jo automatically knew about the Hayden family makes me think it’s a place where everyone knows everyone else. Or, at least, everyone knows the Haydens.
“And here we are,” Dad announces, slowing as we approach a large metal sign held up by two wooden posts. The sign reads Hayden Cattle Company. He turns, the car tumbling off the paved road and onto a long dirt driveway, where maybe a half-mile away a house sits. Despite my dad’s slowed speed, dust kicks up on either side of the car, and it hits me that this is a convenient way to force visitors to announce their presence.
Or maybe it’s just an unpaved road, Dakota. Jo’s reaction coupled with the Rich Calloway story has me building a fantasy of the Haydens in my head, and it mainly centers around some hillbillies stepping out of the massive house at the end of the long driveway chewing on a piece of wheat and pointing shotguns at us.
I remind myself it was Beau Hayden who agreed to this meeting, and my overactive imagination needs to take a Valium.
“Well,” is the only word I can think to say as we get closer to the house. It’s really not a house. It’s a compound. The home is a two-story and sprawling. Richly-colored dark brown logs and stone in varying shades of gray make up the exterior. A huge porch makes the front of the house look inviting, and plants flank the walkway leading to the front door. It’s rustic and western and unexpectedly elegant.
We come to a stop thirty yards from the home’s entrance, the dust settling around the car.
“We’ve got this, Junior.” My dad holds out a fist and I bump it.
I climb from the car and am met with the smell of horses and dirt, grass and pine. It’s earthy and comforting. Together we walk toward the oversized front door, and I’m no longer entertaining the thought that hillbillies are going to walk out. Now I’m seeing a blonde woman, hair in an elegant bun, wearing a cream silk blouse tucked into Wranglers and embroidered cowgirl boots. Obviously these are details I’ve picked up from movies, because where the hell am I getting these ideas?
We climb the steps and pause at the door, sharing a look. Dad knocks on the door, and while we wait I look around. A set of chairs and a table sits off to the side of the long porch. It looks like the perfect place to relax and drink coffee in the morning, the steam rising up from your cup while you listen to the horses whinny, or watch a bunny scamper around the flowers in the beds on either side of the porch steps.
The door opens and my attention snaps to it like a rubber band. Standing in the opening is a young girl with hair the color of honey. It’s piled on top of her head. She wears too much eyeliner and hot pink sparkly eyeshadow.
“Hi,” she says cheerfully. Her ready grin reminds me of Jo from last