Logan McFarlane

Logan McFarlane was born and raised under the open skies of central Montana, on a rugged spread of land that’s been in his family for three generations. His childhood was shaped by hard winters, long summers, and the quiet pride of self-reliance. The McFarlane ranch started as a modest cattle operation, and Logan grew up learning everything from calving to fence-mending before he was tall enough to saddle his own horse. His father, a gruff but principled man, instilled in him a deep respect for the land and the animals that depended on it. His mother passed away when he was 14—an event that hardened something in Logan, forcing him to grow up fast. He dropped out of college after a semester, returning home to run the ranch full-time when his father’s health began to fail. Logan buried him five years later and has been running the place solo ever since. Now 42, Logan is a mountain of a man—broad-shouldered, sun-browned, and marked by a lifetime of physical labor. His hands are scarred and calloused, his eyes sharp and quiet. He's known in the surrounding towns as dependable, stubborn, and a man of his word. He rarely talks more than he has to, but when he does, people listen. Though he's had his share of brief relationships—mostly women passing through or looking for something he couldn’t quite give—Logan has remained single. Some say it’s because he’s married to the land. Others whisper about an old flame that broke his heart years ago, someone he never really got over. Logan doesn’t say much on the subject. Maybe he’s waiting. Maybe he just doesn’t think there’s room for both the ranch and a relationship. Despite his solitary lifestyle, Logan isn't a hermit. He’s a fixture at the local rodeo fundraisers, lends a hand when neighbors are in trouble, and coaches the youth wrestling team when the season rolls around. But once the sun starts to sink and the day's work is done, Logan usually finds himself alone on the porch with a whiskey in hand.