Dante said goodbye to his brother and left the main house earlier than expected. He still had to return later to make a few more preparations.
As he pushed open the wooden door, the air filled with the damp scent of grass and trees, carrying a slightly crisp note that made every breath refreshing.
From the main hall, Lee's quiet conversation could be faintly heard, occasionally mixed with the clear clinking of cutlery.
Standing outside the door, Dante habitually tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat and looked out toward the meadow.
The morning dew sparkled under the sunlight, like countless tiny diamonds embedded in a green carpet. His gaze finally rested on the distant mountains. Their undulating outlines appeared soft and mysterious in the morning mist, evoking a sense of peace.
Not far off, a dark green pickup truck was slowly making its way down the trail; the sound of its engine was low and steady.
Dante squinted and quickly recognized the driver—Barry Daniels, the ranch's hired beekeeper, who was actually a retired agent.
Barry was over fifty and always wore his signature wide-brimmed straw hat. Beneath its brim, his eyes still gleamed, revealing that his love for the land and the bees was all that truly mattered to him at his age.
Several wooden boxes sat in the truck bed, swaying slightly as the vehicle moved.
The truck stopped in front of the main house. Barry hopped out of the driver's seat and greeted Dante, "Good morning, Dante!"
His voice was loud and full of energy.
Dante walked down the steps to greet him. "Good morning, Barry. What brings you here so early today?"
Barry patted the truck bed and pointed to one of the wooden boxes. "This honey is fresh. Really fresh. The weather's been good, so I wanted to bring it early so you could have some for breakfast."
After saying that, Barry carefully placed the wooden box on the ground, and a faint, sweet scent of honey drifted from under the lid.
"Perfect timing—they're still eating breakfast inside." Dante looked at the box and chuckled. "Why don't you come in and join us?"
"No need," Barry said, waving his hand as he brushed the dust from them and pushed his hat back.
"There's still a lot of work to do."
"The flowers on the meadow are blooming well this year, and honey production has increased. Lucky you!"
Old Barry smiled, nodded, and climbed back into the truck. "Well, I have to check the southern hives. We'll chat next time when there's time."
The engine roared again, and the truck kicked up a small cloud of dust as it rolled off down the winding path.
Dante looked at the box as his thoughts drifted.
Bees are a vital part of the ranch's ecosystem, and the bee colony here is massive—Barry has managed over a thousand hives since he arrived some time ago.
In his memories, from childhood to adulthood, there had always been an old man—now long gone—who would drive by, drop off a large box of honey, and then leave just as quickly.
Thinking about that made Dante laugh, and suddenly a thought crossed his mind: "Time flies…"
The early morning chill hadn't quite lifted yet, and the low rumble of the off-road vehicle's engine could still be heard.
Dante took the wheel, the tires picking up some fallen leaves from the edge of the path, and headed straight toward the warehouse.
In the pasture, several Black Angus cows roamed peacefully. As he passed, a few low moos greeted him in return.
The roosters in the distant coop seemed restless, their sharp calls rising one after another, eager to announce the ranch's awakening.
The warehouse sat on a flat area at the edge of the pasture and was one of the few newly built structures on the ranch.
Its white exterior walls stood out prominently, and the dew that had gathered overnight still clung to the iron door, glistening faintly and damp.
Dante stopped the car, reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out a bunch of keys. He found the silver one, inserted it into the lock, and turned it.
The door's hinges let out a dull creak, as if still stiff from the morning cold.
Inside, the warehouse was as clean as new. The shelves were arranged neatly, and all kinds of farming supplies were in order.
From various models of hoes to carefully sorted bags of seeds, everything was clearly laid out at a glance.
Dante didn't linger. He walked straight to the area near the back wall and stopped in front of a stack of small American-standard pallets, neatly piled.
His eyes ran over the 36 x 36 inch wooden pallets. The edges and corners were smoothly finished, and the grain of the wood was visible. They must have come from the factory not too long ago.
Dante crouched down, picked out a few well-preserved pallets, stacked them up, and added them to the inventory.
Then he walked over to the seed storage area, planning to take some seeds.
Yesterday afternoon, while selling fruits and vegetables at the farmer's market, he had asked the nearby farmers about the quality of their crops.
They all spoke positively about their vegetables and asked about his fertilizer. Dante simply replied that it was all about good dedication.
"Saddle my horse, Lloyd," Dante said after finishing restocking what he needed for his greenhouse.
"Riding alone?" Lloyd asked with a smile.
"Well, I plan to do an inspection—to see how the ranch is doing beyond the areas we usually tend."
"Then I'll tell a few cowboys to get ready. You shouldn't ride out alone."
"All right," Dante said, not rejecting the old man's advice.