The first full morning on the ranch started with a harsh reminder of what Ellie Bennett had signed up for. The shrill cry of a rooster jolted her out of bed well before sunrise, leaving her groggy and disoriented as she stumbled to the kitchen in search of coffee.
Her inherited coffee maker was as ancient as the house itself, and after several futile attempts to get it to brew, Ellie gave up and settled for a lukewarm bottle of water she found in the fridge. She glanced out the window as the first rays of sunlight painted the hills a soft orange and gold. The view was breathtaking, but it did little to distract her from the growing list of problems awaiting her outside.
With a sigh, Ellie pulled on her boots, grabbed a notebook and pen, and headed out the door to assess the damage.
The barn smelled of hay, leather, and years of neglect. Sunlight streamed through a jagged hole in the roof, illuminating cobwebs and dust motes that danced in the air. Ellie wrinkled her nose as she approached the stalls, where her uncle's cattle stood in varying states of disrepair.
"Alright, let's see what we're working with," she muttered, flipping open her notebook.
The first stall housed a thin brown cow with mournful eyes and a coat that looked like it hadn't been brushed in years. Ellie made a note: vet check, proper feed, grooming supplies.
Moving down the row, she found more of the same—underweight animals, broken stall doors, and a water trough that looked like it hadn't been cleaned since the turn of the century.
By the time she reached the end of the barn, Ellie's notebook was full of scribbled notes and her optimism had shriveled to the size of a raisin. She glanced at the fence line visible from the barn door and made a mental note to inspect it next.
The fence was worse than she'd expected.
Several sections were leaning dangerously, the wood splintered and rotting in places. The wire was sagging, barely held together by rusted nails. Ellie spotted the gap Wyatt must have mentioned yesterday—a gaping hole wide enough for several cows to wander through.
"Perfect," she muttered, planting her hands on her hips. She added fence repair—priority to her growing to-do list.
Before she could head back to the barn, she noticed movement in the distance. A lone cow was grazing on the wrong side of the property line, inches away from Wyatt Callahan's fence.
"Great," Ellie groaned. "As if I needed more reasons to hear him complain."
She trudged across the field, her boots kicking up dust as she approached the wayward cow.
It took nearly an hour to coax the stubborn animal back onto her side of the fence, during which Ellie managed to step in cow manure twice, tear the sleeve of her shirt on a stray branch, and acquire a generous coating of sweat and dirt.
By the time she returned to the barn, she was ready to collapse—but her work was far from over.
She spent the rest of the morning tackling smaller tasks—cleaning out the stalls, scrubbing the water trough, and rearranging supplies in the tack room. The work was grueling, but it gave her a strange sense of satisfaction. For the first time in years, she wasn't sitting at a desk or staring at a computer screen. She was using her hands, creating order out of chaos, and she couldn't deny how good it felt.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, Ellie paused to take a break and sip from her water bottle. She leaned against the barn door, surveying her progress. It was a start, but the list of repairs still loomed large in her mind.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an approaching vehicle. She turned to see a beat-up pickup truck pulling into the driveway, a cloud of dust trailing behind it.
A man in his sixties climbed out, his weathered face creased with a friendly smile. He wore a cowboy hat and boots, his plaid shirt tucked neatly into a worn pair of jeans.
"You must be Ellie," he said, extending a hand.
"I am," Ellie replied, shaking his hand. "And you are?"
"Jim Hawkins. I worked for your uncle for a few years. Figured I'd stop by and see how you're settling in."
Ellie smiled, relief washing over her. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you, Jim. I could use all the help I can get."
Jim chuckled. "Don't worry, darlin'. We'll get this place back in shape. First thing you'll need is to fix that fence before your neighbor gives you hell."
"Wyatt's already given me hell," Ellie muttered.
Jim's expression turned knowing. "Ah, Wyatt Callahan. Don't let him get under your skin. He's a good man underneath all that bluster, but he's got his reasons for being prickly."
Ellie raised an eyebrow. "What reasons?"
Jim hesitated. "Let's just say there's some history between your families. Might take some time to smooth things over."
Ellie sighed. "Great. Just what I need—more obstacles."
Jim smiled sympathetically. "It's all part of ranching, darlin'. Now, let's get to work."
With Jim's guidance, Ellie spent the rest of the afternoon mending fences. It was hot, sweaty work, but Jim's easygoing demeanor made it bearable. He showed her how to stretch the wire tight, secure it with staples, and reinforce the posts with fresh wood.
By sunset, they had repaired most of the worst sections, and Ellie felt a small spark of pride as she surveyed their handiwork.
"Not bad for your first day," Jim said, tipping his hat. "You'll be a rancher yet."
Ellie smiled, the compliment warming her more than she expected. "Thanks, Jim. I couldn't have done it without you."
He nodded. "I'll be back tomorrow to help with the barn roof. Get some rest—you'll need it."
As the sky darkened, Ellie collapsed onto the porch steps, her muscles aching and her hands blistered. She stared out at the horizon, where the last traces of sunlight faded into the night.
She was exhausted, sore, and overwhelmed—but for the first time, she felt a glimmer of hope.
Sure, she had a long way to go, but she was learning. And no matter how much Wyatt Callahan wanted her to fail, she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction.
"Bring it on, Wildwood," Ellie whispered, a determined smile tugging at her lips.