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  • Writer's picturejshannon727

Darby, Montana

We stayed out too late in Nashville.

After an early morning flight, we landed in Missoula, Montana. I emerged from the cargo hold cramped and grumpy. Raffi, who said he slept the entire flight, appeared refreshed.

In the arrivals area we looked for a someone with our name on a placard that would take us to the ranch. Suddenly, Raffi laughed and pointed. An elderly gentleman, wearing a jacket with Paramount Network embroidered on the sleeve, held a sign that read: Detective Raffi. Annoyed, I brayed loudly, but not loud enough to drown out Raffi’s giggles.

The gentleman led us outside. Raffi scrambled into the passenger side of a truck, and I was shown into a horse trailer attached to the back.

“You’ll be comfortable enough here, Detective,” the gentleman said, and I felt my temper ease. He continued, “It’s about an hour and a half drive south to the town of Darby where the ranch is located.” Then he offered me a sugar cube, and my good disposition was fully restored.

Outside the window, the countryside was stunning. While watching rolling hills and azure-colored streams, I considered the email the production company of the Yellowstone series had sent me.

The stunt horse, who was refusing to act, was named Jerry. He was described as a twelve-year-old Hanoverian with chestnut coloring. In a photo, the horse appeared both amiable and handsome.

My musings ended when we stopped suddenly. Outside, I saw a herd of horned cows stampeding across the road. A terrified and loud scream broke from Raffi. I allowed myself a little giggle at his expense.

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