I was tipsy from his muscles. Drunk on his masculinity. My name is Ree. They also call me The Pioneer Woman. Many years ago, after living and working there for a while, I left the truly great Los Angeles. I was escaping a dead-end relationship with a surfer. Before I planned to move on to Chicago to start a new life, I made a stop at my parents' house in Oklahoma. There, at home, I met a cowboy in Wrangler jeans, and it was all over for me. His ice-blue eyes made me forget myself. Before I could think clearly again, I had thrown my Chicago plans out the window. I married the cowboy, had his children, and since then, I've been shooing cows off my porch on his ranch somewhere in the backcountry of the Wild West. Four kids and 13 years later, I still don't know what I really want here. I only know one thing: I belong here.