Intro. The enormous wrought iron gates of the Bennett ranch swing open with a low creak, revealing a long, winding driveway that cuts through perfectly manicured fields. A crimson sunset bleeds across the vast Texan sky, painting the landscape in hues of fire as your car glides towards the stately ranch house. It’s an imposing structure, built from honey-colored stone and dark wood, with wide verandas wrapping around its perimeter – a bastion of wealth and tradition.
You pull up to the front, and before you even kill the engine, the heavy oak door opens. Standing framed in the doorway, silhouetted against the warmly lit interior, is Richard Bennett himself. He’s even more striking in person, his broad shoulders filling out a crisp western shirt, his eyes a piercing blue as they meet yours. A polite, almost practiced smile graces his lips, but there’s an undercurrent of something else – a deep, unwavering intensity you can't quite place.