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Whose bright idea was it to fly out to Montana in the middle of high seasonal snow? Since the trip was free, I guess that was my idea.

After two months of skating around deadlines and putting myself through so much stress that I was sometimes sticking to little space where adult responsibilities happened to the adults, and definitely not me. Nuh-uh, my only responsibility was to squish teddies, nap, and use my expensive pens in coloring books.

When my publisher and agent teamed up to get me back on schedule, they’d decided I needed a vacation to reset my creative muscles. My mind went to somewhere warm, drinking something from a coconut husk on a beach, and where my only worry would be whether I wanted to nap in the hammock perfectly placed between two palm trees. Obviously, that was not where they had in mind.

They booked me on a one-way flight out to a snowy cabin in the middle of Montana. I didn’t even know what they had in Montana, except for this singular cabin, an airport, and apparently snow. It wasn’t like I could complain either. This was a free trip. Absolute magic to my ears. But I knew it came with a catch, I had to start work on my next comic book. I’d already released four volumes of the popular Teddy Wars series, selling over a million copies world wide. I wished I had the capacity to feel good about that brag, but thinking on it made me sigh and roll my eyes.

What if I never created another comic panel again? What if I was creative done? I was twenty-eight and I’d used up all of my I’d never had any intention on doing anything but stress in my apartment about finishing the comic book pages for my publisher. After almost two months without a single sketch or word on the page, I was being forced out of the state. Force was probably a rough word, since it was sold as a vacation, all paid to a scenic little ranch where I’d be undisturbed and get to help tend to animals.

My friend, Cristian, who worked in the digital marketing sphere and was also a talented artist practically forced me to get on the flight. I half-wondered if he was only doing that so he could try and poach my agent and get himself a book deal. Telling my best friend those words was the sign that I was not doing well at all. My childhood bestie, and roommate, Farrah, told me I was being paranoid and locking myself in the apartment was not good for anyone. She’d even helped me pack and drive me to the airport.

I had a lot of time to think and reflect on the flight. There was no mind-numbing internet doomscrolling, and the in-flight entertainment had me bawling in tears, not from lack of choice, but from the sappiest of romances I’d never heard in my entire life, seemingly only made to be shown flights. Thankfully, I’d been booked into business class and the seat beside me remained unoccupied.

The snow topped pines and view of the national park as we descended into the airport was a relief. I’d gone through all several stages of denial by the time we landed, finally on acceptance about my situation and agreement that I actually needed this break from the city.

Immediately off the plane, the chill in the air hit me. I was not prepared for snow, or winter. I wore a fleece jacket, thin t-shirt, jeans, and a pair of sneakers. I was begging to get frostbite.

Through to baggage claim, it wasn’t as cold. I waited on my bag, a hardshell black suitcase, freshly covered in stickers. Farrah’s idea of making my suitcase stand out. And it did, for all the wrong reasons. Half of them were merchandise stickers from the Teddy Wars books, and the other half were NYC tourist stickers. There weren’t many people around to see me collect the suitcase, it looked like it belonged to a child, at least it contained all the things my little side required to feel safe.

My phone buzzed with text after text, making sure I’d landed safe and then instructions on where I had to go. I assumed I was going to be heading to the car rental desk, but apparently someone was waiting for me out in the arrivals zone.

A woman with bright pink hair stood in a large brown jacket with a fur hood. She held a sign with ‘ Mr. De Vecchi ’ written on it. It made me sound old. I stopped in my tracks, right in front of her. A matching neon lipstick and dimple piercing on her cheek. “Hey, doll,” she said. “Now, I didn’t get a picture of you, but I’m going to safely guess you’re who I’m here to pick up.”

“Hi,” I said, glancing her over. “I’m Tommy De Vecchi, here for a mandated stay while I get some work done without any internet or distractions.”

She laughed. “You are a hoot,” she said. “The ranch doesn’t get many out of towners during the winter season. Oh, shucks . I’m June. I work up at the ranch half of the week, just helping out with things. Anywho, we should get going before it really starts up out there. And good lord, you are sure to catch your death. Please tell me there’s a nice winter coat in that suitcase.”

I offered back a nervous laugh. “This was all last minute. I do have a coat, but it’s back in New York. I know, not ideal.”

June clicked her tongue. “You’re lucky, I have a spare in the car. It’s my sons.”

“Won’t he need it?”

“Oh lord no,” she snort-laughed. “He’s living out in Arizona, and has been for the last five years. Anyway, we’ll have time to get to know each other on the drive. You need a hand with that?” She took the suitcase from me. “I can handle this. You know, since my divorce, I’ve developed quite the set of muscles.”

I followed June from the airport out into the short stay parking bays where she continued to confuse me. She was volunteering all this information about herself, like an ex-husband, a grown son who’d moved states, and I still couldn’t pinpoint her age. Maybe it was the garish pink hair and piercing that aged her down.

She drove a silver Chevy Suburban, which most of the people around here seemed to have. There must’ve been a deal on at the local car depot. June continued to surprise me, lifting the suitcase with one hand into the trunk, all while offering me that motherly hospitality of sitting in the car and telling me about the heated seats.

“How long have you worked at the ranch?” I asked as she climbed into the driver’s seat.

“On and off now for going near thirty years,” she said. “My ma and pa worked there way back too, she would tend to the feedings and he would break horses in. It’s a different beast to the place they were at though.”

“A beast,” I said, picking at the word. “I don’t think I’ve ever been close to a horse.”

“Well, you’ll get close and personal with them there,” she said. “It’s now owned by this semi-retired couple living out in California, they use it for their summer retreats and hire it out to companies. So, yeah, it’s changed a lot. Not really a large emphasis on cattle farming anymore.”

It hit me that this was going to be wildly different from the idea I’d cooked in my mind. The idea that I was going to be staying in a cabin as if this was somewhere in Upstate New York by a lake.

“Do you live at the ranch then?”

“Oh no, it’ll just be you and Hardin,” she said. “He’s an acquired taste, I’ll preface with that. He’s a man of few words. A real cowboy of a man. So, don’t come at him sideways with anything.” She laughed again. “How long are you staying?”

“Three weeks.” I really had no clue what I was getting myself into with this. I knew there were going to be other people at the ranch, but I didn’t think the description of them would be so hostile. “I’m actually hoping to get out of a creative rut by a change of scenery.”

As June drove, she had anecdotes about everything. It was nice to hear her talk so excited about everything, and then she hit me with it. “You don’t get to my age without finding an appreciation for the world around us. I turned fifty-one a couple months back, not in June, mind you, just in case you were thinking.”

“Fifty-one? I would never have guessed.”

“You’re sweet,” she said. “A good gal pal of mine said a divorce will either make you ten years younger, or twenty years older from the stress, and I guess ridding myself of the dead weight in the relationship actually worked wonders.” For someone divorced, she had such a positive tone to her voice on the topic. I was desperate to find a slither of that.

“My last serious relationship was a couple years ago, and it didn’t end well,” I mumbled.

“Oh, well, they missed out because you’re a looker,” she said. “If you don’t mind me asking, were they male or—”

“I’m gay,” I said, not wanting to out myself somewhere I didn’t know the consensus of LGBTQ folks in. “It was guy.”

“My daughter’s a lesbian,” she said. “She’s the one who did my hair for me. She works at the salon in town. If you’re looking for someone who does a good mani pedi, I must recommend her. She could also probably put some highlights in there for you. I bet you’d rock a great head of highlights.”

Once we were out of the traffic from the airport, we hit a straight of road that was surrounded by snow covered trees on either side. As far as the eye could see, there was road. The white sky, almost as if snow was falling, was mesmerizing.

“Not the first time you’ve seen snow, is it?” she asked.

“It’s the first time I’m seeing it so pure,” I mumbled. It was untouched. “But this might be the first time I’m going to be alone.”

“You’re not going to be alone, Hardin will be there, just not actively engaging in any type of conversation.” June had a way of speaking and then her voice pitching with a laugh toward the end of her words. “I really hope he’s stopped skulking around. If you’ve never met a cowboy before, they do skulk a lot. For whatever reason they might have, they always look like they’ve just kicked something hard and have to bite their tongue. Or like they’ve stuck a lemon wedge in their mouth.”

I didn’t know what to expect. They’d painted this man as someone who lived in the mountains, undisturbed by human contact and actually feared it. “I was told that my cabin had everything I needed,” I said. “So, I don’t expect to see much of him anyway.”

“It sure does,” she said. “But not many appliances mind you. The cabins don’t have outlets, so I hope you can work just ok without power.”

Coming to terms with this low-tech cabin hadn’t even hit. I hand drew everything and then I went over it digitally, but I had no use for my drawing tablet without first getting the bones down on paper. It was a future me problem, and current me had enough problems to deal with. “I’ll figure it out,” I said, placing my head against the window and staring straight ahead. There didn’t appear to be any end in sight for the road, or the trees.

June continued to talk until we reached a turn in the road for a small town. ‘ Chamber Mill’ , the large decorated wooden signpost read, tagline for it was, ‘ nestle yourself in Paradise Valley’s bosom’. “That’s a bit forward,” I mumbled to myself.

“What’s that doll?”

“Oh, the sign.”

“Gosh, that old thing, you know why they called it a bosom. Fun fact, the town used to have these two large mills way back, and they looked like two large lady lumps.”

One more fun fact to add to the collection. “What happened to them?”

“The town grew and the industry wasn’t what it was so they closed, and other places open up to take its place,” she said.

The town, much like most small towns was made up of a main road where they had a handful of stores, and from there, an offshoot of roads leading to the homes of the locals. At either side of the town, large mountainous ranges encompassed them, possibly another reason they were within the bosom . It was such a fun word to think about.

“We should grab you some groceries from Dixon’s , the local store before we continue through the ranch,” June said. “Only because I doubt Hardin’s thought about accommodating a guest.”

At this point, I was just going along for the ride. “Sure. But the no electrical outlets might be a problem for milk and stuff,” I said.

“The main house has power,” she said. “And you won’t need eggs. They have chickens there. And depending on how fussy you are, they get most of their milk from goats.”

“Goat milk?”

“Oh boy, you’re going to learn a lot,” she said, pulling up into a small parking bay beside the flashing sign for the grocery store. “And you’re gonna need to put that coat on, unless you want to catch some funny looks as well as a cold.”

From the seat, I was handed a large yellow and blue winter coat, lined with fur. It was far too warm, but I knew it was cold outside. The clear blue sky above the town had a crispness to it. And the moment we were outside, I stuffed my hands into the pockets from the immediate cold. There were a couple of candy wrappers in the pocket.

As we entered the store, June introduced me to everyone along the way. “This is Tommy, he’s an artist, he’s going up to Lone Pine Ranch for a couple weeks to finish his book,” she said.

And they would all say the same thing. “What’s Hardin’s thoughts on that?” Smirks filling their faces at the same time as they told me to enjoy my stay.

The nerves had been growing steadily. I didn’t know much about the ranch, or the caretaker cowboy occupying it, but everything I had learned made me wonder if I should be worried. I’d also never met a cowboy before, unless counting Shania Twain and Dolly Parton, my knowledge of country music was sorely lacking too.

June had a very motherly spirit, going around the grocery store, telling me what I might want or need. She filled a small basket with chocolate and other sweet treats. It was almost like she saw me for what I was, someone who lacked any motivation and desire to cook.

“Everyone pulls the same face when they mention Hardin,” I said, as she filled a small bag with apples.

“I like to think they call him Hardin for a reason, other than it being his last name, he’s got a bit of a hard face. Impossible to read. So, yeah, everyone wants to know what will happen. I didn’t want to say it, but you’re treading on his time, the holiday season is usually when he’s alone, and he likes it that way.”

“Alone? As in, no family?”

She shrugged, filling another clear bag, this time with oranges. “As long as I’ve known him, I haven’t really got to know him,” she said. “He’s never mentioned his family. But those animals on the ranch are the closest thing for him, so whatever you do, be nice to them.”

I liked animals, I wouldn’t call myself an animal person, or even a nature person, but I could see how being around both could change me. “Should I take him something?” I asked. “I don’t want him to think he has to treat me like I’m there as a guest requesting turn down service every evening.”

“Turn down service,” she howled. “You might just be what he needs. You might even get him to crack a smile.”

I decided I should get him something, but it was very last minute. It took me until we got to the cash register where I saw a small stand with funky animal magnets. “Oh, maybe I’ll get him a chicken one.”

“You don’t have to get him anything,” she said before striking up a conversation with the man behind the counter, and the moment she mentioned it was for Hardin, he laughed.

I stuck to my plan, and even if he hated it, I had a clear conscience that I’d thought about a gift. So, I bought the largest magnet with a chicken surrounded by beveled eggs and a phrase embossed along the bottom edge. It read. ‘ Have an eggcellent day.’ I loved a good pun, even if it was overplayed.

All I had to do now, was meet the man behind all the gossip, and hope he didn’t bite my head off.