When I first crossed the stateline into Colorful Colorado, I could hardly believe what I had gotten myself into. Nebraska had been endlessly flat, and the transition into the rolling desert hills was abrupt. The scenery was breathtaking—completely different from the world I knew back East. Crossing the stateline made it feel official: I was out West.

My dad, Brian, was in the car with me. He didn't want me to make the twenty-hour drive alone because he was worried my car might break down, but I knew the real reason was that he was anxious about me driving to an unfamiliar ranch where I was supposed to spend my entire summer.

I'm from Michigan, originally. In fact, I've lived in the same house for all twenty-two years of my life. I'd never been away from home either. My four years of college were spent online, writing papers and doing assignments from home so I could accommodate a full-time job.

After graduating in 2023, I kept thinking about "what's next?" Deciding what I wanted to do for the rest of my life changed day by day. So, when I finally decided to apply for seasonal work on a ranch, it felt like a way to postpone the inevitable decision of locking myself into a career. Straying from the comforts of my life back home—and leaving behind my beloved dogs—didn't exactly make me feel better about the job I was heading toward. Every mile that put more distance between me and home only deepened the doubt.

Brian was a pretty quiet road trip passenger. We had been listening to true-crime podcasts, but we were between episodes at the moment, so we sat in silence, with nothing but the wind blowing through my rolled-down windows. Yeah, I took my car without working air conditioning to live out West for the summer.

My dad must have been thinking the same thing I was, because he broke the silence by asking, "You're sure it was a good idea to take this car, Holly? Your truck would have been much more practical."

"For one, my truck doesn't have working air conditioning either," I replied, a little defensively. That was my only rebuttal, because, truth be told, I would have fit in a lot better with a truck at the ranch. I also wouldn't have had to cram my luggage the way I did in my car.

The car I decided to take on this trip was none other than a 1988 Pontiac Fiero. It was everything you'd expect from an '80s commuter car trying to pass as a sports car: two-door, sleek, and small. So, so small. When you're sitting in the Fiero on the highway, your head sits lower than the tires on a semi truck. The trunk could barely fit a couple of carry-on suitcases, with random small bags shoved into the corners. I had to strap a suitcase to the luggage rack just to make it work. And to top it off, I had packed tools in case the car broke down—it was forty years old, after all.

Regardless of its flaws, I loved my little red car. It was fun to drive and got great gas mileage for such a long road trip. The owners of the ranch had assured me I wouldn't need a personal vehicle for ranch work anyway, so I really didn't need my truck.

"Just don't come crying to me when this car breaks down," my dad said, conceding for the moment.

"Yeah, yeah, I can fix it if it does. I bought Triple-A just for this trip," I retorted.

"I know, but I'm worried it'll break down in a bad spot. Who knows what kind of weirdo might approach a young girl stranded on the side of the road."

"I know. But this car hasn't broken down on me yet in the two years I've had it." Which was partly true. It wasn't 100% reliable, but the few times it had been an inconvenience were at home, where I could just hop in my truck to get to work. I wasn't truly stranded. I didn't want to think about my car breaking down and proving me wrong. The timing worked out perfectly to change topics. As we approached a rise on I-70, the faint outline of the Rocky Mountains came into view.

"Mountains!" I exclaimed.

"Would you look at that? We must be getting closer to Denver," my dad said. He glanced at the GPS and added, "Still two hours, I suppose, but that's nothing after that long stretch of Nebraska."

____________

The two-hour stretch to Denver went by quickly. The ranch was just under two hours away from the city, and I had to decide whether we should stop in Denver for the night.

Today was Saturday, and my dad had a 4 a.m. flight to catch on Sunday. The original plan was to grab a hotel in Denver Saturday night, then for me to drive to the ranch alone on Sunday. I was really nervous about going there by myself, but at least we were making good time—it was still only the afternoon. My dad noticed my anxiety and made a suggestion that helped me feel better.

"Since we're doing well on time, do you want to drive to the ranch with me? We can check it out, drop your stuff off, and then just leave at a decent time to make it back to Denver before it gets dark. That way we won't be driving through the mountains in the dark," Brian suggested.

"Yeah. I think that's a good plan... Let me text Gene and ask if it's okay to stop by this afternoon." By "let me text," I meant handing my phone to my dad so he could text Gene while I kept my focus on driving. Gene was the person I'd been in the most contact with throughout the hiring process at the ranch.

As we drove along I-70 toward Denver, the traffic picked up, but it didn't feel any worse than the streets in Michigan. Once we got to the west side of Denver, the highway began its climb into the Rocky Mountains. I started to doubt my car a little more as it struggled up the incline at a pitiful 55 mph—far slower than the comfortable 70 mph I'd been cruising at on the flatlands. But as the highway leveled out, I felt a little better. It wasn't until we left the major freeway and took an exit toward the town where the ranch was located that my nerves kicked in again.

The road twisted and turned, varying between 25 and 55 mph, as we climbed toward the top of a pass with a series of switchbacks. My car chugged along, and I felt slightly reassured when I saw more modern cars navigating the steep inclines at the same slow pace. I'd never driven through mountains before, and while I admired their beauty, I found them intimidating.

The higher we climbed, the more snow blanketed the scenery. I'm not much of a winter person, but even I couldn't deny how beautiful the snow-covered mountains looked against the blue sky. We reached the top of the pass, now 10,000 feet up, and began the descent. The entire climb and drop took maybe 20 minutes each, but once we'd conquered it, we were on a two-lane highway leading to the town—now just 40 minutes away.

The road wound through a large ski town at the base of the pass, followed by a couple of smaller towns that seemed to be competing for winter vacationers. Before long, we passed the large welcoming sign for Frostline, Colorado—home of Broken Arrow Ranch.

____________________________________

wMy heart was in my throat as the GPS mileage ticked down: twenty miles, then ten, and finally, "Turn right in half a mile." I slowed the car, making the turn onto a winding dirt road, and spotted a bright red wagon on a rise, its wooden sign displaying the name of the ranch.

"This must be it," Brian said, stating the obvious.

I didn't respond. I was too busy edging my car down the road, trying to delay the inevitable. I should've been excited to reach the ranch, but I was in no rush. The further we drove, the taller the mountains on either side grew, indicating we were entering a valley. We had only driven 800 feet when we passed a few loose cows grazing calmly along the roadside, completely unbothered by the sight of a small red car passing through. Another half mile up the dirt road, we officially entered ranch property, marked by a large wooden sign spanning across the road.

Finally, we reached the end of the road. The ranch lay before us, and I parked in a circular driveway near a flagpole. I took a deep breath and stepped out of the car, eager to take in my new summer home.

"I'm not sure what I expected," I told my dad, "but I didn't expect it to be so quiet."

He just shrugged and asked, "Do you know where to put your things for the night?" He checked his watch. "We'll have to leave in the next hour if we want to make it back to Denver before dark."

"I texted Wyatt when we were in town," I said, checking my phone. "He said Gene would be around to give a tour. But my phone doesn't have a single bar here, so I can't ask what to do."

For the moment, I stopped worrying about where to unpack my car and took a long look around. The mountains rose high to the east and west, and the ranch stretched across the valley from north to south. From where I stood, it seemed like we were right in the center of it all. The cabins lined the east side and continued along the north. To the south, I noticed a circular building, and just past it, to the right, was what looked like a horse barn. On the far western side, next to the barn, was another large building that backed up against the mountainside.

Just as I was absorbing all of this, a car approached, breaking my focus. I hoped it was Wyatt, Gene, or at least someone in charge who could point me in the right direction. Instead, a girl my age parked a silver Toyota and stepped out.

"Hi, I'm Holly. I'm new here... Do you know where I should put my stuff?" I asked the stranger.

"Oh, hey! I'm Miranda," she said. "I'm a first-year, and I just got here yesterday, but I can show you where you might want to stay!"

That was good enough for me. I followed Miranda toward a building I hadn't yet noticed. It was on the northwest side of the ranch, not far from where I'd parked. Miranda led me along a short stone path that followed the edge of a pond. We entered a log-cabin-style building I would later learn was called the Lodge. Inside, the air was colder than outside, and the space felt abandoned. The rugs on the wooden floor were bunched up, the couches along the walls were dusty, and between the dead bugs and scattered leaves, it was obvious this living room had been unused for quite a while.

"It's up this way," Miranda said, leading me toward a staircase. "Just watch your head going up the stairs."

My dad had decided to wait in the living room, so I followed Miranda up. At the back of the room, on the north wall, was a set of stairs. Being 5'4", I ducked slightly to avoid the beam overhead, but Miranda, who was taller, had to be careful. At the top of the stairs was a small door to the left.

"This is Girls' Quarters," Miranda explained. "I'm in the room on the left with Jessie, but both rooms on the right are empty."

We stepped into a small hallway. As Miranda had said, there was a room on the left, and in the center was a door leading to the communal bathroom. I followed her to the right to check out the vacant rooms.

I wasn't sure what to expect from having a roommate. Back home, the only "roommate" I had was my dog, and even that didn't require much thought. I quickly pushed the thought of missing my dogs from my mind. When I peeked into the first room, I saw two beds, which made it the largest of the three. But the downside was that you had to walk through this room to get to the far room. I peeked into the far room and saw it had three beds and two windows with flimsy curtains. I needed total darkness and silence to sleep, and this room seemed far from ideal.

"I think I'll take my chances with the middle room," I said to Miranda, deciding it was the lesser of the two evils.

Miranda headed back to her room, and I made my way back down the stairs to the living room. When I reached the bottom, I saw that my dad was no longer there. He was outside, unloading my bags from the car and talking to a man who introduced himself as Gene. As I had learned during the hiring process, Gene was one of the ranch managers, the son of the original owners.

I shook Gene's hand, and he asked if we wanted a tour. Of course, I agreed.

He led us on a brief walk around the ranch.

"Sorry for the mess after the winter," Gene said, "but don't worry, you'll be helping get the place ready for guests in three weeks."

First, he took us to the circular building just south of my car.

"This is the Teepee," Gene explained. "It's where we do social activities and dance with the guests."

Inside, the space looked like a lot of work. Tables were stacked on top of each other, bicycles were scattered around, and outdoor decorations were piled up. It was clear this would be a big cleanup project after the winter.

Next, we visited the horse barn, which would end up being my home base during my work here as a wrangler. It was a small building with just three stalls along the southern wall. Then we stopped outside the western building, which Gene called the New Barn. Built just four years ago, it housed small farm animals, a maintenance shed, and storage. There was an activity room upstairs, but we didn't go inside.

Gene explained that the ranch had been hit by both a devastating forest fire and a flood in the same year. The fire had affected thousands of acres in the surrounding area, but fortunately, the ranch itself, being in the valley, had mostly escaped damage. However, the flood had caused significant destruction, with six feet of mud filling some of the buildings. One of the cabins even floated away. The devastation had led to federal funding to build the new barn and reinforce areas around the creek, which ran through the ranch, in hopes of minimizing future flood damage.

After the New Barn, we walked up a dirt path toward the Lodge, with the pond now on our right. Back in the living room, Gene asked, "did you get a chance to see Girl's Quarters?"

"Yes, Miranda showed me up there," I answered.

"Okay, well I am sure you can pick whatever bed you'd like up there since you're one of the first few here," Gene said.

From the living room, we went to the right through an archway which led to the guest dining room. We then took a sharp right to enter the industrial-style kitchen. "Help yourself to whatever is in this small fridge for drinks. This big fridge is typically off-limits, and please don't cook for yourself because an industrial kitchen is different from a regular one," Gene said pointing at different fridges as we walked through the kitchen. We walked through the kitchen to another room filled with kitchen supplies and two long tables.

"This is the staff room where you guys eat. There isn't enough room to eat with the guests usually, and on the days we eat outside you're encouraged to eat with the guests but not required. Oh, and there is another fridge in here for the staff to keep their personal meals and snacks; just make sure you label them with dates."

Gene pointed out the laundry room connected to the staff room, then we walked back through the kitchen, guest dining room and went back outside through a door in the dining room that was at the front of the lodge.

"Well, that's about it for the tour. Did you have any questions?"

"No I don't. Thanks for the tour. I'm going to put a few things in my room, but then my dad and I are going to head back to Denver for the night so I can drop him off at the airport tomorrow," I explained.

"Okay, that's fine. Let us know if you need anything. It was nice meeting you, Brian," Gene said as he shook my dad's hand. Then he left.

I only had a couple bags because I tried to pack light in my little car, so I brought my things up to the middle room and officially claimed my bed on the east wall by throwing my bags on it. I did not bother unpacking since I had to get my dad back to Denver. Before leaving Girl's Quarters, I pulled my phone out to do a quick video tour of my living area for my friends and family back home.

As I got back to my car, Brian asked "well? What do you think? I think it seems like a cool place here!"

"I'm not sure I will be able to get over the bathroom situation," I complained. My dad looked at me questioningly so I explained how not only is it bad enough seven girls would share two showers and two toilets, but the toilets faced each other and were only separated by lousy shower curtains.

"That's what you're worried about?" my dad scoffed.

"It is a valid concern! I'm still nervous about this whole decision too. I hope I made the right choice in coming here," I said.

"I guess you'll find out."