Half an hour later, Mrs. Fairly brought me to my room and tactfully left me to unpack and get used to my room.

"Your room isn't on the same floor as the other live-in hands," she had explained on the way down the hallway. "Generally the hands live on the second floor, and a few have some converted rooms in the attic, but all the rooms are full, so you get one on the first floor. Only Mr. Rowe and I have rooms down here, but Mr. Rowe isn't here very often, so it's pretty quiet for the most part."

"Thank you, very much," I replied, drggaing my suitcases down the wood-floored hallway. The wall was painted a very light yellow, but other than the paint and wood, there was no decoration in the hallway.

"Here you are, dear," said Mrs. Fairly a few steps later. She opened a door and stepped asde, allowing me to pass. "I'll let you get unpacked," she said, and stepped out and shut the door. The room was very very nice, if a little bit plain. The double bed was covered in a white and purple striped duvet with a white wood headboard. The dresser, nightstand, and bookcase were all also white, as was the frame around the mirror. The walls were painted a lighter shade of lilac than the duvet, but it matched well. The thing I noticed and became instantly drawn to was the window, underneath which there was a cushioned window seat. I left my suitcases in the middle of the carpet and went over the sit sideways on the seat. I drew apart the white curtains and pushed down one of the blinds to see a breathtaking view of the valley behind the house. The house was situated at the edge of a very shallow cliff, facing the fields in front of it. My window faced the back, towards rolling pastures and grazing fields and the distant mountains, and apparently it also faced the west, because as I watched, the sun just touched the peaks of the mountains, and continued to descend in a flash of brilliant colors.

Sighing, I left the window and went to unpack the two suitcases of clothes and other possesions I had managed to pack in the hasty departure from my home. Earlier Mrs. Fairly had told me of the entire staff's nightly gathering, typically on the porch or out in the lawn somewhere, and that I was more than welcome to join them. She said would be at 8:30 and I could go to the porch as well. Opting to make a good impression over the comfortable solitude of my room, I went out to the kitchen to find Mrs. Fairly humming as she pan-fried some chicken.

"Oh hello, dear," she said. "I just finished making up the last of the food. We serve the staff in a buffet style. Just a tip: get here early, I can already hear the men coming up the drive." Surely enough, sounds of laughter and random conversation filled the air. I took the pile of plates from Mrs. Fairly and placed them at the start of the counter, then picked the top one off the stack and began to pick out bits of food. By the time I got to the chicken, a slew of men had entered the kitchen and noisily picked up plates and joked with each other. I looked up from behind a curtain of my hair, content to so far not be noticed. I decided that I would wait to meet them till tomorrow, when I could rally my social skills together. It was when I tried to slip away down the hallway that being inconspicuous failed me.

"Ah the new girl," came a deep voice from behind me. I stopped, squinted my eyes for a second at being caught, and turned around, smiling.

"Hi," I said quietly.

"Trying to escape our grand party?" asked the same man. He was rather tall with blondish brown hair and green eyes.

"Yeah," I replied. "I felt rather awkward at interrupting such a close-knit party without knowing anybody."

"Well I'm John." He came over and reached out a hand. I shook it, glad to see open warmth in his eyes. "There, now you officially know someone. We're all going out onto the porch for dinner, why don't you come with us?"

"All right," I said, and followed him with my head bent. Social skills had not come back to me since last year, which was part of the reason why I chose a university so far away from home, and why I chose to skip a year and work at the ranch. At school I had been so miserable, talking was a chore and none of my friends understood, so I spent senior year of high school as the biggest kind of social reject and it was not pleasant.

Outside, the group of maybe fifteen or so sat out around the porch in various spots. John told me to sit by him, and quietly I did, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to him. I was introduced around to all the hands and a few of their wives, but the only names I remembered were John and Tim, the man who picked me up from the airport. When the food was finished, one of the wives, who later reminded me her name was Linda, and I picked up the plates and silverware and brought them into the kitchen with Mrs. Fairly.

It wasn't until around twelve thirty that I finally got to bed. The night was spent talking, laughing and singing very badly, but surprisingly I felt very at home with them. The sense of belonging was comforting, and I was glad to be a part of their party. They accepted me without hesitation, something I hadn't experienced in a few years. For the next three weeks I got accustomed to my jobs. For the most part I rode on Sprite, a dappled mare who was the sweetest horse I'd ever met, and went around the the fences to sketch where there was a break that needed mending. I spent every night outside on the porch or in a field with a bonfire with the rest of the hands, and for awhile began to genuinely feel at home.