#COMING HOME TO RANCHERS ON MY PORCH MADE EVERYTHING WORTH IT

[ardienothesieno]

THEY'RE HEEEEEEEERE

after a biiiit of chaos with the shipping IT'S HERE!! MY RANCHERS!!!!

i need them to kiss NEOWWW

[pizza-soup]

Things about rural life I’ve had to get used to or have come to love:

- No food delivery. Most places won’t even have your zip code or it’s in a no deliver zone on account of how far/hard to find it is. I haven’t had delivered pizza in years now, we make our own which is actually cheaper, more customisable in size or thickness, and tastes better imo. Rosemary and basil mixed into the dough with spinach, various meats and fresh cheese. All with $8 worth of ingredients that can make at least three more full sized pizzas later. Yes!

- Learning to entertain myself. Don’t have a movie theater, mall or shopping center? A storm knocked out the power and no wifi? Sounds like a drag huh? Doesn’t have to be, I've learned to keep myself from getting bored by being more outside, picking up new hobbies, and working on projects around the house or learning to repair things. Plus, when the time comes I do go to the city, I’m actually excited to go to the bookstores, markets, malls and art stores. Makes you appreciate things more and turns an otherwise mundane thing into an event.

- Everything closes early, either by 6pm or 8pm. Whatever you gotta get from the store better be done in the daytime or you’ll have to make that long long two hour drive to the city on a highway that’s perched on a cliffside, not well lit and remote. If you get in trouble out there, well...you better hope a kind driver well pull over to help because there’s not even a highway patrol out there after dark. On the plus side, when they started doing curfews due to current events, nothing was changed. The only 24 hour places we have are a Pilot gas station, ATM and medical care building.

- Self serve fruit stands. They still run by the honor system which is such a rare thing these days. It comes in handy when I don’t want to go to the store to get groceries, and they usually have what I'm looking for, like squash, corn or carrots. As well as treats like strawberries and fresh pastries.

- Wild produce is a thing. They grow on property that’s left behind when people pass on or move away. Sweet potatoes, onions, asparagus, squash and pumpkins often regrow or resow themselves in abandoned gardens or spread toward the river and canals. Any trees like plums, apples and persimmons also grow on their own, having tapped into the water table. I’ve made it a habit to check on these wild gardens when I'm running low on staples, esp around the summer and fall. The local kids are the ones that pointed this out to me after I asked them where they got their produce. 

- Walking at night and early morning. Being a city girl, I was amazed just how safe it is to walk out here, and you’ll see others do the same. Seems to be a social thing too, as neighbors will sometimes talk outside their driveway or walk and talk before parting ways to go back home. Heck I've slept outside on my front porch in a papasan, with no worry of something happening to me.

- Hotsprings! There’s many little hotsprings and bathhouses here with prices ranging from high to free. It’s mostly a colder weather thing for me, but sometimes I don’t mind slipping my feet into one after a long hike. During the winter, my family soaks in the hotsprings often. Nothing like watching the snow fall while half submerged in bubbling hot water.

- No street lamps. This is a double edged sword. It’s so dark out here and sometimes during the rains/snow makes it hard to see where you’re going, but the view of the stars more than makes up for it. Lack of light pollution has made me take up an interest in Astronomy and I have since viewed tons of sky events, as well as attended many star parties. 

- The wildlife. While we don’t get bears, elk or bison, those tend to stick to the mountains, we do get mule deer, coyotes, foxes, hawks, raccoons, bobcats, river otters, beavers, snakes, quail, frogs, rabbits, cranes, turtles, coatis, and skunks. Living so rural I've had to get used to seeing my wild neighbors often and deal with them when they get a bit too close to my property. Usually fences and making a lot of noise does the trick.

- Animals in general. I never grew up by a farm. The only time I ever held a chick was during a school field trip. Now I live near a farm with a rooster that I hear every early morning, walking down a dirt path to the creek and seeing horses poke their heads toward me, seeing escaped goats as I drive on a backroad, and biking near beehives. Big bonus is that I get fresh eggs, goat milk for my lactose intolerant bro, honey and beeswax, and old leather scraps from saddlery. In all my life I never pictured myself living this way, but I wouldn’t trade it.

- Closer to my roots. My father was Coytero Apache, they were hunters and ranchers, NM is also native land. My mother’s father is from Aswan, Egypt, they were from a long line of agriculturists, mostly vineyards. I grow my own garden now and grapevines, I don’t hunt but I do wild forage, I'm also a lot closer to gatherings/powwows and native markets. I’m living a life very similar to my ancestors.

- Monsoons and blizzards. Okay so it’s not all sunshine. During the winter, we get snowed in, often for days and must prepare in the Fall accordingly. In the late summer, roads turn into rivers, playgrounds are underwater and rockslides are common on the highway. Good thing about this is just how lush everything gets, we don’t get a whole of mosquitoes due to a ton of dragonflies and the double rainbows are a big treat. Flooding is a headache but it’s tolerated, because wildfires are far more dangerous when it doesn’t rain enough.

- A small friendly community. Growing up I wasn’t used to knowing my neighbors at all, everyone kept to themselves which was dangerous when domestic/child abuse happened, or when someone was struggling with depression or financial issues. They all looked the other way. Here people look out for you, they help and share what they have. When I first moved in, I was still reeling from my trauma, I seriously appreciated having people help me adjust to my new home, move furniture and boxes in, as well as get donated food and items. It left such an impression on me and may have been a big part of my recovery. It’s also why I donate food and help out when I can now. Continuing the cycle.

- Seasonal events. I don’t really celebrate holidays, not because I hate them but because I didn’t grow up with them. My folks weren’t Americanized as much as my friends’ families were. Also they didn’t like how commercialized holidays had become. But we did celebrate seasons! There’s something like this here as well. While people still put up decor, the social pressure to celebrate isn’t strong, it’s there but only if you want to participate. This has lead to me celebrating in my own way, and I've timed a lot of them to the seasonal solstices. One big regional thing I participate in is Bonfire Season, which lasts from October to December. Lighting lanterns, candles and holding bonfire parties is a big cultural thing.

[youvebeenblessed]

Ok I have no idea where I'm going with this and it has no title yet but I'm going with Reed for now

This is born out some discord talk about how Nick and John have a complicated relationship built around planes and anger. Will be many more parts and proper content warnings etc when more is written. This is just a slooooow intro to the history of my two favourite boys. Only warning right now is some strong language and some strong feelings about John Seed.

The Seed Family had rolled into town on a dull Tuesday afternoon about 7 years ago, 3 brothers who quietly bought up the big ranch south west of Fall’s End. 

The place had been vacant for the last few years, more people trying to leave the valley than settle down in it. At first, no one noticed the family much past them turning up in town to enquire about buying the ranch and the land surrounding it. Most of the townsfolk wondered why 3 youngish men needed such a big space, wondered at the experience any of them had when it came to working a ranch. Wondered where they got the cash. Back then, there had been a subtle southern lull in their voices, not that any of them spoke much. The youngest seemed the most talkative, a glint in his eye, soft buttery words, and brilliantly white teeth as he negotiated the price. He was in his mid twenties, a well-groomed dark stubble across his sharp jaw that made him stand out from the regular, rugged Montana men that had lived in Holland Valley all their lives. The other two brothers stood back, older than their sibling by a good few years. One stood rigid, shoulders square, feet apart, and hands clasped in a way that would have given him away as a military man if it weren’t for the regulation jacket and the dog tags hanging from his neck. His gaze rested on the imaginary horizon, as though still on duty, still on patrol, still waiting for that enemy to come, seeing everything and looking at nothing. If his presence was unnerving, it was nothing compared to the middle brother, all wide eyes and piercing stare covered by bizarre yellow glasses. He radiated a stillness that seemed altogether unnatural, and he smiled often as the youngest spoke. John it transpired, discussed the terms of the ranch’s purchase.

“...you fellas aren’t from round here, are you?” The man studied John quietly as he spoke. He didn’t look in the least familiar, and he couldn’t see a trace of any of the families that lived in the valley in the features of these brothers’ faces. You didn’t just happen across Holland Valley, you came because you had some distant relative there, or you were born there. You knew it was there. These 3 men had turned up out of nowhere, asking questions about the town and the county like they had read about it in some travel guide and were looking to see the sights. Yet somehow they knew about the ranch, and even more strangely, wanted to buy it. The place hadn’t been a profitable business for the last two decades, and the damn place just wouldn’t sell for love nor money. John simply smiled wider at the man, letting out a laugh before continuing.

“Is it that obvious?” His smile faded a little after he spoke, getting no reaction from the man behind the desk. The silence lingered in the air like stale smoke in a dive bar, hinting at something on edge beneath the niceties. John cleared his throat like he was about to speak again when the man cut him off.

“Look, I only ask because Hope County might not be the place for you boys. Ranch has seen better days, and ain’t really worth all that much to anyone who ain’t got the wherewithal to turn it around. No offense, but you don’t seem the type to be ranch hands,” He notably glanced at John’s impeccable dress shirt, pausing before continuing, “and there ain’t many folk left in town looking for work these days. Maybe you’d be better off heading to Missoula.” John laughed again, a dissatisfied sounding huff, and placed his hands down on the desk in front of him, leaning heavily, shoulders rounded, and moved closer to the man behind it. He was about to speak again when he felt a hand on his shoulder. The odd looking brother with the yellow glasses motioned with his head for John to move over and stood next to him in front of the desk, clasping his hands behind his back. He stood motionless, staring at the face of the man John had been speaking with as though sifting through his thoughts, the edges of his mouth curving into a slight smile. Up close, he seemed even more oppressive, and that unwavering stare seemed to pierce right through him. The man tried to hide his involuntary shudder. Finally, the other brother spoke.

“Hope County will be a new home for us. We will work the land as needed. We will build a new life here. We will welcome you as neighbour, help build a community.” He paused, nodding to his brother John once more who promptly withdrew three crisp stacks of 50 dollar bills from his back pocket, somehow unaffected by their time in his jeans. The man reckoned there was at least 15 grand on the table and he contemplated the stacks neatly place in front of him before looking back up at the brothers. The eldest hadn’t moved from his spot near the door, except now he was watching the man carefully, peering between his brothers’ shoulders. The man looked between them all, saying nothing. John inhaled a long quiet breath in, spreading his face back into that winning smile.

“A deposit. We can transfer the rest of the funds to you today, if it suits you. We’d really like that ranch.” The man just kept looking. They all three of them had the same eyes, those eyes that bored their way through him, made him feel like a deer caught in the headlights. He seemed to think it over, unsure of these strange newcomers so insistent on a beat up old ranch miles from anything. He would understand them buying property in town, if he understood them coming here at all. The youngest certainly had the air of a city dweller about him. The brief glance he had had as John had rested his hands on the table had told him he hadn’t worked a day’s labour in his life, though he noticed the odd scar on the back of his wrists, peeking out the edge of his sleeves. Maybe from a childhood spent playing in trees and scrambling through the brush back down in the south. He thought he could glimpse the lines of what might be a tattoo on his arms, but the long sleeved of his shirt revealed little. But damn if he hadn’t been trying to shift that cursed ranch for years, and the money before him was a welcome offer. Without another word, he opened his desk drawer, pulling out a key from the few he had littered in there. He paused, catching sight of the old pistol he kept in there, briefly wondering why it struck him, but pushed the drawer shut again, holding the key out to them.

“...Welcome to Holland Valley, fellas.”

--

News of the newcomers had spread in Fall’s End pretty quickly. Nothing more than that the old ranch had been bought up by a family of brothers who seemed friendly enough. No one had seen them in town yet, which seemed surprising since it was the only place to get supplies for miles. Mary May had been working behind the bar, a young girl just barely eighteen, fresh faced and freckled, just like her Daddy, chatting with Nick Rye as she flipped the bottle cap off another beer and handed it to him, mentioning in passing that he had a new neighbour.

“The old ranch, huh?” Nick had said, eyebrows raising as he took a swig of the cold beer. “It’ll be good to have more folks around on the land that way. They ranchers?” He asked Mary May. She shrugged, drying off glasses with a dish towel.

“Not much anyone knows about them. Supposedly nice enough.”

“I oughtta swing by, introduce myself. See if they need a hand. Offer ‘em a tour of the valley courtesy of Nick Rye and his future sons.” Mary May snorted, shaking her head.

“Yeah, that’ll be a long time coming, Nick.” Nick shook his head at her, gulping down more beer and letting out a loud burp.

“I’m a fucking catch, Mary May.”

--

Nick decided to drive up the following afternoon, excited at the chance of having new neighbours after so many years. The ranch had belonged to a friend of his Daddy’s, and the pair had spent almost every night drinking beers together, blaring rock music on the porch as they took shots at passing birds. Nick had spent almost every summer growing up helping with the cattle before he was old enough to learn to fly, and join his Daddy’s business. The man had been like an uncle to Nick, and it broke his heart to watch the place fall into disrepair, cows long gone, and his Dad’s buddy dead. It’d be nice to see some new blood there. Nick had heard the brothers were around his age, and he had grown sick of hanging out with Sharky and Hurk all the time. They were great and all, but they had known each other since they were babies, and Nick could only talk about huntin’ puss for so long.

He pulled up in front of the old house, scanning around for any sign of movement. There were big black cases everywhere, but the house was deathly still, and looked like it hadn’t even been touched yet. “...hello? Anyone home?” he called out his open window. There was no answer, no twitch of the curtains, no sound at all. He opened the door and got out his car, stepping forward a few steps towards the door. “Name’s Nick. Nick Rye. I live just down the road a ways, down at the airstrip.” He waited, looking around again at nothing. Seemed odd to him there would be no one there only a few days after they had bought the place, and with shit everywhere. Deciding they might have headed off to town to get supplies or something, Nick fished out a scrap of paper and a pen from his glove box, scrawling a note that read: “Hey neighbour, came to introduce myself but missed you. Let me know if you need anything, I’m down at the airstrip. - Nick Rye”. The old mailbox was long gone, knocked over one night when he and Sharky had taken a little joy ride up round the ranch after a night of heavy drinking at the Spread Eagle, so he left the note on the porch, pinning it down with a rock and heading home. Maybe he’d see them at the bar.

--

Jacob was the one who found the note, kicking the rock off with his boot and scooping it up roughly. He read it over saying nothing, heading over to Joseph coming up the stairs to the house and pinning it against his chest with his hand. The brothers had returned to Atlanta, packing up things from the church, moving families out that would follow them north, to Hope County, to Joseph’s promised land. John had been battling with the local law enforcement, using his connections built as an attorney to sway things in the family favour. They couldn’t prove anything, he whispered, smiling that sharp smile all teeth edge and never reaching his eyes. Circumstantial evidence at best. The family would move on quietly, and the missing man searched for long after they left. A few loyal followers had made the return trip with them, ready to help with the ranch, sleeping on the dusty floor like it was the softest bed.

Joseph was shaken from his reverie by his brother, taking the note from him and reading it through with a blank expression on his face. “They have welcomed us already. This is a good place. These are good people. Just as God told me, as he planned for us.” Jacob said nothing to this, looking at John coming up the steps behind Joseph. He stopped when he noticed his brothers looking at him.

“...what? What is it?” He said, looking between his brothers. Joseph passed John the note, Jacob filling him in.

“We missed the welcome wagon.”

--

Nick told Mary May about his venture up to the house that night in the Spread Eagle. “Thought they might have called, or dropped by or something. You seen ‘em in here yet?” Mary May shook her head.

“No one’s seen ‘em yet. Maybe they’ve been busy. Maybe they don’t drink.” Mary May smirked, watching Nick shake his head drinking his beer and almost spilling it down himself.

“Nobody doesn’t fuckin’ drink, Mary.” he said, sitting his beer down and wiping the drips that had snaked their way down his beard. “Maybe they’re moving their stuff in. Mac said they sounded like they were from the south. Maybe they had to drive back.” Mary shrugged.

“Well, they’ll be in town sooner or later. Ain’t nobody patching that place up without supplies, and ain’t nothing that way for miles and miles and miles and miles and--” she chuckled as Nick cut her off.

“Alright, city girl, I get it, you love the big bright lights of Fall’s End.”

“Well you drag your ass up here every night in my bar, you don’t see me coming to you.”

Mary May was wrong, no one saw the family in town for the first two weeks after they had moved in, though there were rumours saying there were strange people all dressed in white hanging about the ranch, moving and fixing, and patching things up. No one had seen the strange people in town, and most folk just took it for people looking to stir the pot in the bar of an evening. Truth be told, everyone was itching to meet them. Who the hell moved in to Holland Valley?

It was the Sunday three weeks after the ranch had been bought up that the brothers finally appeared in Fall’s End. Pastor Jerome had just started his sermon, welcoming the usual faces in the crowd, cracking a few jokes with people before getting into the main words of it. The church doors had quietly opened, no one paying much attention as there was a latecomer every week, nursing a hangover from one too many at the bar. It wasn’t until they had walked down a few rows of pews to be as close to the front as they could be that people began to realise it was the family there had been so many whispers about. Nick was sat reclining on a pew near the back of the church, eyes wandering to where that cute girl Kim was sat with her parents a few rows up, but the passing brothers broke his view, and he looked up at each of them as they passed, first Jacob, then Joseph and then John. The youngest did indeed seem to be about Nick’s age, maybe a few years older. The others looked like they were heading towards the later years of thirty. Nick wondered why none of them had settled yet, no women with them, and what had brought them here like a stray tumbleweed. A few people began to whisper to each other as they took a seat, Mary May turning round to catch Nick’s eye, facial expression amused and full of sparking curiosity. Pastor Jerome noticed them only from the rush of whispers they left in their path, pausing to glance at them before continuing to preach. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a new face in his congregation.

After the service had concluded, and people began to meander their way back to town, Mary May walked quickly to Nick, grabbing his arm and speaking closely in his ear. She always smelled distantly of beer and some sugar sweet perfume, and he could feel her warm breath on his neck as she spoke excitedly. “Well fuck me, if they ain’t a good looking family, Nicky.” He shook his head at her. She was always a sucker for a pretty boy. That’s what kept her turning Nick down.

“Easy there, Mary, they’re all too old for you and you don’t know a damn thing about them.”

“I know that youngest one has the finest ass in this whole damn county, and don’t you act shocked Nick Rye, I’ve heard you and Sharky cussin’ every which way since I was knee-high to a grasshopper and talking about every girl in this town like she’s a pork chop ready to get eaten up.” His shocked face at her declaration was cut short, and by the end he was grinning sheepishly. Sharky was a bad influence. He noticed that the middle brother had stopped to talk to Pastor Jerome, wide smile on his face as he spoke animatedly with him. Oddly, Jerome didn’t seem quite so enthusiastic, but he nodded patiently, and spoke every now and then between breaks in the man’s words. The other two brothers stood a little ways off, the youngest flashing a big pearly grin as he chatted with some of the townsfolk. Mary May was watching him approvingly, and he noticed a few of the other women similarly entranced, casting too-long glances at him and walking more slowly than usual. The eldest brother stood, arms crossed, between his two siblings, watching John talk but saying nothing himself. His deep red hair marked him out from his brothers, but he had those same startlingly blue eyes, his razor sharp compared to the warmth of his siblings. “Come on, we’re gonna go talk to them.” Before he knew what was happening, Mary May had dragged him over by his arm, making a beeline for the youngest brother. The group he had been talking to began to wander off as they approached him, and he turned to them with that brilliant smile never faltering. Up close, Nick felt there was an odd tension in the man’s jaw, and stiffness to his shoulders he tried to cover as he moved. Maybe he just seemed tense next to the intensity of his eldest brother. Nick looked at them both as Mary May spoke. “Hey there, you must be the new family that’s moved in up at the old ranch. We wondered when we might see you in town.” John watched her intently, giving her all his attention with soft eyes never leaving hers. Nick could see a faint flush rising on Mary May’s neck as she spoke, swallowing slightly after her words, but never faltering. “I’m Mary May, I work up at my Daddy’s bar, the Spread Eagle, and this,” she tugged on Nick’s arm “is Nick Rye. He works with his Daddy at Rye & Sons not too far down the road from the ranch. Big airstrip? They help out crop dustin’, giving tours, that sort of thing.” John glanced at Nick, giving him a quick nod and turning back to Mary May.

“What a pleasure to meet you both. I’m John Seed. This,” he moved over to where his brother stood scowling and gripped both his shoulders, shaking him as best he could, “is my oldest brother Jacob, and that over there,” he nodded over to where the middle brother stood still chewing the Pastor’s ear off, “is t-- Joseph.” The stutter was almost imperceptible, and he quickly hid it behind that ever present smile. Jacob said nothing. “We are looking forward to joining the community.” John said, turning to face Nick again. Nick couldn’t work this guy out. He seemed nice enough, genuine and warm, well-dressed. Obviously well educated. He had almost completely thrown off the southern lilt in his accent, and from the shirt he was wearing, clearly had money. But there was something off. Nick shook it off as just not meeting new people often, trying not to judge the brothers, but being wary of them too. He still couldn’t wrap his head around why anyone, let alone three fairly young brothers, would move out to the sticks. John seemed like he might have been about to speak, but Nick jumped in.

“You guys ever fancy a drink, you can find us down in the Spread Eagle most nights. Best way to meet everyone in town, most folks spend their evenings there. Be nice to have some fresh faces in the place.” Mary May glowed as she looked at Nick. He could tell she was delighted at the prospect of getting this guy in her bar.

“That’s kind of you.” John said, glancing at his brother Jacob briefly. He kept his silence, but cleared his throat in a gruff way, and shifted his stance. “You said you’ve got the airstrip down the way?” John had turned to Nick again, those keen eyes locking onto him. Nick nodded. “Rye & Sons was it?” John’s voice was smooth as silk, and almost hypnotic. It was oddly soothing.

“Sure is.”

“What kind of planes do you have?” His eyes seemed to glimmer more as he asked the question, showing that same keen interest in Nick as he had speaking with Mary May, like Nick was the only thing that mattered in that moment. He almost found it endearing.

“We got Carmina, she’s an old seaplane my Grandaddy bought after he came home from the war, and she’s a thing of fuckin’ beauty. You lookin’ to hire a plane?”

“Actually, I was looking to buy one. We’ve got big plans for the ranch, and we’re hoping to have our own airstrip on the land. Once we’ve done the place up, maybe we can come by and take a look at what you have.” Nick shook his head.

“Nah, I’m afraid no can do, Carmina ain’t for sale, and our other plane is out of commission at the moment. You fellas need an airstrip, huh? What is it you guys do?” John smiled widely, stretching his arms out and laughing softly. This guy sure was a smooth talker.

“Family business, same as you.” Nick’s eye was caught by the other brother finally breaking away from Pastor Jerome and walking over to where the four were gathered. He placed a hand gently on John’s shoulder, but he flinched as though a pile of bricks had landed on him. “Joseph” John said, without looking at his brother. “These are our neighbours, Mary May and Nick Rye.” Joseph stared unblinkingly at them, smiling and speaking just as softly as his younger brother. 

“Ahhh, the good samaritans.” Nick stood confused. “We appreciated your note.” The note. Nick had forgotten he left it, and it struck him as strange John hadn’t mentioned it. “I hope we can help each other in the future, Nick Rye.” This sibling creeped Nick out even more than the other two, but he couldn’t put his finger on why. Maybe the way those yellow lenses made his blue eyes muddy, all at once hidden and magnified by the glasses. They all stood, awkward in the niceties of new conversation before John broke the silence.

“Well, it has been swell getting to meet the pair of you. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other from now on.” If it hadn’t been for his sickly sweet smile, one Mary May returned gladly, that would almost have sounded ominous. The three brothers headed off to where Nick could see there was a large white truck parked, waving at a few people who greeted them on the way. City boys, he thought, the damn thing was gleaming with not a dent or nick on it.

--

The bar was buzzing that night with talk of the new brothers. How handsome and friendly they were. Guesses at what they did, why they wanted the ranch, why they had come here of all places. Whether they had girlfriends or wives. Or boyfriends, Sharky pointed out loudly. Ain’t no need to be making assumptions. Mary May had that same flushed look on her face she had done that morning as she talked about their meeting with the youngest brother.

“There were three of them, you realise that, Mary May?” Nick couldn’t help the corners of his mouth curling to a grin before sipping his beer. That girl.

“Yeah, and any one of them could get it. I’m just saying.” “You’re a freak, Mary May.”

“You’re a dick, Nick Rye.” Nick laughed again, finishing the dregs of his beer and contemplating the road home. But his mind stuck again on these three brothers. Breezing in to town with their charm, and their money. Wanting a plane? That’s an odd one. Sure, a fair number of folk had planes in Holland Valley, but most of them used them for crop dusting, same as Nick, or for an easy means of travelling the county. Beat up old things on tiny strips of clear land that hardly counted for anything. Building a full on airstrip? For a cattle ranch? Seemed weird to Nick. And that John had been so charming, so polite, asking all the right questions, but said nothing about the note Nick left. He was thinking too much. They were just new and he was just curious. He wondered when he might meet them again.

[ivalerier]

Cold Creek Ranch

Between Black Jack and Rustler Creeks, in the shadow of the prickly pear mesa lies the prettiest ranch I ever did see – Cold Creek Ranch.

The Ranch House The outside of this huge ranch home doesn’t betray the treasures within, and I literally mean treasures as the house is crammed full of pieces from all over the world that Eric and Jean have brought back from their many years of wandering. Downstairs in the living room the sofa is covered in a giant bison hide and cow skulls sit broodingly by.

A stuffed springbok makes a friendly bedside companion in the Africa room – so thoughtfully decorated that it even comes complete with the whole series of The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency – the delightful books about a Botswana lady detective. The house is a living history of the different memories of this family, and you could spend hour upon hour gazing at the many pieces and asking where they came from.

The Riding One of my favourite places at Cold Creek Ranch is the tiny rustic wooden tack room – also a favourite for Border Collie Jeff who loves nothing more than to hang out and sleep under the saddles. There’s something about this home made tack room that just makes you feel happy, whether it’s the saddles and bridles – the promise of adventures to come – or the lingering scent of oats, beer and molasses in the air (and on the nosebags!) Either way, every day on the ranch starts here at 5.30am with the feeding of the horses.

The beautiful bay part Arabian Smoky was my favourite of their horses, with his soft dark fur and long black mane, he was a real stud. However all the horses here at Cold Creek have their own individual personalities and merits. From the the tiny mustang Emma Grace with the huge heart to the sleek and lightning fast Quarter Horse Seago – there’s a horse for everyone, and beautiful land to ride on. I loved riding atop the prickly pear mesa where you dodge around cacti at a leisurely gait overlooking the world.

Ranch Life This isn’t a guest or dude ranch, it’s a working ranch so depending on when you’re staying at the ranch, you could witness and take part in a number of different activities. Sometimes it could be nothing more than shoeing horses while other times it could be rounding up cattle, moving cattle and branding and vaccinating too. As it’s a working ranch, you fit in with the ranch schedule which in my opinion is a lot more real and exciting than just being demonstrated the different activities as if you were in a circus. Ranchers learn young, and Cold Creek is no exception! 10 year old twins Emily and Ally were totally unfazed by the calves and calmly helped with vaccinating under their father Keith’s guiding instructions. If you happen to coincide your visit with branding and castrating time – make sure to try the famous ‘mountain oysters’! Cut fresh from the calf, the balls are thrown into the branding fire and are ready to eat.

Another big event at any ranch is auction time, whether the ranchers are buying or selling. As Cold Creek has its own abattoir and packages and sells all its own beef (Double Check Beef), there’s not much selling to do, however they may often be on the lookout for a new bull or cow. Willcox Auction House is a definite experience, from watching the pen riders beforehand to sizing up the stock and horses for sale to the auction itself.

Though not strictly part of ranch productivity, every good rancher needs to know how to shoot, whether to catch something tasty to eat with a little game flavour or to protect yourself from a mountain lion. Cold Creek Ranch is the perfect place to learn! Eric has one of the most impressive collection of guns I have ever seen and is a wonderful instructor. If you have your own firearms you are welcome to bring them along for target practice and the old wooden porch is the perfect place to shoot from. If you’d like to know more, I wrote a separate post on shooting at Cold Creek.

The Food It’s all about breakfasts and dinners here at Cold Creek Ranch, and boy are they good! Jean is without a doubt a formidable cook and the meals will be a highlight of your stay. I made sure to write down all my favourite recipes before I left but I’m sure that my attempts won’t live up to the real deal. Breakfasts range from oatmeal pancakes to Dutch hats and breakfast casseroles – every day it’s something new and the quantities are hearty enough to see you through the long ranch day. Dinners are an explosion of flavour and draw from different cultures for a true Western experience. From all American pot roast and meat loaf to Pozole and chicken and chorizo stew from across the border in Mexico. Jean is hands down the best ranch chef around – I only wish I had taken photos of the food (I was too busy eating clearly).

Other Activities If you have some spare time and a car, there’s a lot to do around the area. Duncan and Clifton are both charming Frontier style towns and though a mine isn’t the most obvious tourist attraction, it sure is a sight to be seen.

Morenci Copper Mine is the largest mine in North America and standing at the lookout point above feels like you’ve left this world and traveled to Mars. Desolate red earth for as far as the eye can see with giant trucks dwarfed by the pits and mounds.

Germaine’s Emporium – you’d be missing out if you didn’t make a trip to Germaine’s in Duncan, an emporium filled with the biggest and most unusual range of objects you never knew you really wanted. From antique music scrolls to native american wooden dolls and everything in between. Make sure to check out the ‘boot room’ where you can find the best value 2nd hand boots around. I paid $20 for a pair of beautiful leather Tony Lama boots!

Clifton Miniature Houses: if you drive around Clifton you’ll no doubt see a number of miniature houses in people’s backyards. These are the remains of a film set and together make up a whole town, complete with sherriffs office, saloon bar, mill and actual houses too. I have yet to find out which film they were used for but I will keep digging. In the meantime they are pretty wonderful to check out.

Silver City New Mexico – if you’ve got some free time and fancy a taste of something different, then the self named ‘Land of Enchantment’ state is really very close. New Mexico has a completely different feel to Arizona – everything from the architecture (colourful adobe houses) to the spicy Mexican style food feels a world away. Downtown Silver City is truly charming and well worth a trip while staying at Cold Creek. Check out my post on Silver City for more info.

Willcox Big Text Bar – B – Que. I wouldn’t usually recommend Texan food in Arizona, but the location is everything here! How often can you eat in an old train carriage?! The food is pretty good too, so it’s a good all round experience, especially if you already happen to be at the auction house.

The Schwennesen Family Cold Creek ranch is owned and run by the Schwennesen family – Eric and Jean, their ex-military sons Paul and Keith and the animals – border collie Jeff, cats – Fizzy, Fuzzy, Yoda, Barnie and Sinbad and the many chickens who produce the prettiest eggs!

This is a family that has roots across the United States and has also moved around the world and as a result they have a wealth of different experiences and interesting tales to tell. Staying here isn’t like staying in a hotel, it’s being a guest and becoming a friend of the family. Sitting around the table at dinner listen to Eric reminiscing about Jean trying to train her rabbit or looking at old family photos, it certainly feels like you’ve made friends for life.

The mission of the family is more than that of your every day cowboy too, as they seek to produce humane and sustainable beef by managing their small scale ranch in a holistic and sustainable manner, conscious of the environment and hoping to improve the land they live on.

Eric has moved all around the world (Pakistan, Lesotho, Somalia to name a few) working for the World Bank and US AID as a specialist in land sustainability. One of his and Jean’s personal projects has been awareness of rock dams and their benefits on minimising soil erosion. Though I only spent one afternoon making rock dams, their presence is all across their land and I certainly learnt a good deal about them.

A stay here isn’t your every day ranching experience, it’s above and beyond. What more could you want?

#TravelStroriesFromTheSaddle