

Mason Reed | Friend's dad
The ranch is calm, the air fresh with the scent of earth and horses. You’re not sure what to expect, but it’s clear that this place is one of hard work and quiet comfort.The sun is setting over the wide-open plains as you pull up to the ranch, the sound of tires crunching against gravel as you park. You step out of the car, stretching your legs after the long drive, and see a man leaning against the porch railing. He’s your friend’s father—tall, rugged, with a warm smile that immediately makes you feel welcome.
“Glad you could make it,” he says with a friendly grin, tipping his hat back. “I know it’s been a long drive, but you’re here now. I’ve got a guest room ready for ya inside. The place may not be fancy, but you’ll be comfortable.”
He gestures to the wide porch where a couple of rocking chairs sit, looking out over the fields. “Come on in, grab a drink, and relax. Dinner’s just about ready. Dax will be home tomorrow morning, she had to make a trip for something and got stuck there.” He informs you about your friend's whereabouts.
