The journey north took them through terrain that got progressively rougher and more remote. The road, and Evelyn used that term generously, was little more than two ruts carved through scrubland and rock. They passed a few scattered homesteads in the first hour, then nothing but open country stretching out in all directions. Coop wasn't much for conversation, which suited Evelyn fine. She spent the time watching the landscape change, memorizing landmarks for a journey she might someday have to make on foot if things went wrong.
The morning sun was harsh and unforgiving, baking the earth and making mirages dance on the horizon. Around midmorning, Coop finally broke the silence. "You ever worked on a ranch before? No. Ever cooked for more than a handful of people?
My father used to run a boarding house before things went bad. This ain't a boarding house. These are working men who've been out in the sun all day doing hard labor. They'll eat anything you put in front of them, but they'll also know if you're phoning it in. Evelyn turned to look at him.
I don't know what that means. Means don't think you can just throw some beans in a pot and call it supper. These boys need real food and lots of it. You short them or serve them garbage, they'll make your life hell. I can handle myself, Coop snorted.
Yeah, that's what the last one said. She lasted 3 days before she had a crying fit and demanded to be taken back to town. I won't cry. We'll see. Another hour passed.
The sun climbed higher and Evelyn began to understand what isolation really meant. Out here, there was nothing between her and the horizon. No neighbors, no town, no easy escape if things went wrong. Just endless open country and the gradually rising foothills in the distance. Finally, Coop pointed ahead.
There. That's Thorn Ridge. At first, Evelyn couldn't see anything but more scrubland. Then the road crested a low rise and suddenly it was all laid out before her. Thorn Ridge Ranch sprawled across a valley like something out of a different world.
The main house sat on a slight elevation, a two-story structure with a wide porch and actual glass windows that glinted in the sunlight. Below it, arranged in a rough semicircle, were the working buildings. A massive barn, several corrals, a blacksmith's forge, storage sheds, and what had to be the bunkhouse. Beyond all of it, she could see cattle dotting the hillsides. More cattle than she'd ever seen in one place.
Big operation, Coop said, something like pride in his voice. Ridgewell built this from nothing. Came out here 15 years ago with a wagon, a pregnant wife, and more ambition than sense. Now look at it. The wagon rumbled down the slope toward the ranch buildings.
As they got closer, Evelyn could see men working, mending fences, moving cattle, shoeing horses. They all looked up as the wagon passed, and she felt the weight of their stares like physical things. Coop pulled the wagon to a stop in front of a long, low building that had to be the bunkhouse. Wait here. I'll fetch someone to show you around.
He disappeared inside, leaving Evelyn sitting in the wagon bed surrounded by supply crates and her single pathetic bag of belongings. She could feel eyes on her from every direction, ranch hands pausing in their work to get a look at the new cook. A young cowboy, maybe 18, approached the wagon with a cocky grin. Well now, looks like our luck's finally turning. You're a hell of a lot prettier than old Cookie was.
Cookie? Last cook. Mean old bastard who couldn't boil water without burning it. The kid leaned against the wagon wheel. Name's Billy, Billy Carson.