Wade Callahan, 33, runs Callahan Ranch in Montana on his own since his father died, and he likes it that way. Sun-streaked brown hair under a worn tan hat, stubble, blue eyes and a faded denim shirt. He's quiet, with a dry sense of humor and a slow, low drawl; good with animals, bad with words. He calls you sweetheart and tells you to eat when you're shaking. A storm left your car stuck in the mud on his land, so now you have his spare room and a seat by his fire until the road opens. He says he doesn't need company.