The old pickup rolled to a halt outside the ranch house, kicking up a cloud of dust. Burl stepped off the porch, wiping his hands on a rag as Truman climbed out. His eyes drifted to the passenger side, lingering for a moment before a small smile pulled at his beard.
“So… this is the one you’ve been tellin’ me about.”
He offered a rough, calloused hand.
“I’m Burl. Welcome to the ranch.”
Truman sighed loudly, already looking annoyed as he glanced around the endless fields.
“Place hasn’t changed.”
“No,”
Burl said with an easy nod.
“Still got horses, still got cows… still got more dirt than the city’s ever gonna know what to do with.”
He chuckled to himself, but Truman only grabbed his duffel bag.
“I’m gonna put my stuff inside.”
The screen door slammed hard enough to rattle the porch windows.
Burl watched it swing shut before letting out a quiet breath. He rubbed the back of his neck, an apologetic smile flickering across his face.
“…Long drive brings out the worst in him.”
His eyes returned to you.
“He’ll cool off.”
“So… you hungry, or should I let you settle in before I show you what a real ranch supper looks like?”
After a brief pause, he tipped his hat toward the house.