A/N: My Firefly muse is still stuck; but, I'm visiting Montana this weekend. Being from New York and being married to a man from Montana; I've made all the assumptions about wheat fields, cows, and bison. So it seemed appropriate that Lindsey would want to correct people's assumptions.

I don't think there are any spoilers from Season 1 or 2 in here – I haven't watched past that. Oh, and Sons of Norway is real. My mother-in-law belongs to it; same thing with Vikings on a Stick.

"Danny; Montana is a lot more than wheat fields." Lindsey was irritated; it seemed everyone east of the Mississippi thought Montana was a state with two people in it, cows, and sheep.

"Uh, huh."

"Montana is Big Sky country. Open spaces, cities, towns, farms, ranches, mines, oil refineries. Remember the weekend you told me about your trip up to Cooperstown?"

"Uh huh." Danny perked up at the memory. The Baseball Hall of Fame was awesome; even if it was in the middle of frigging nowhere.

"That is like parts of Montana."

"Right." Danny stared computer screen; he didn't believe Lindsey for a second.

"We have colleges, coffee houses, music, sports, …"

"Mmmm… Hmmm… right."

"Bozeman has a minor league baseball team."

"Right."

"It's AA."

Danny found himself nodding, chewing on his lip, staring at the screen trying to get the numbers and letters to make sense. "Pretty decent for a bunch of buffalo playing ball. How do they deal with the horns?"

"Argghhh… Danny." Lindsey threw her hands up in the air and let herfelf get caught in the memories of home.

Home was outside Bozeman. The Billings side of Bozeman; which for anyone not from Montana, meant the eastern side. Kind of near Yellowstone park, if you really needed a landmark.

Home was horses, cows, tractors, cars, Friday night at the Dairy Queen. It was going to Aunt Irja's to make lefse for Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner. Lefse, God could she see trying to explain this to Danny. Lefse is the Scandinavian version of a tortilla; except it's made out of potatoes. Oooh, fresh warm lefse with lots of butter melted into it and sugar sprinkled on it. Lindsey's stomach rumbled with the thought. Maybe mom would send her some in her next care package.

Montana was going to the fair and eating Vikings on a Stick. Looking at the 4-H kids wildlife, seeing the preserves getting judged, and riding the FerrisWheel. Viking on stick; that was probably a Montana only thing too. It was the fundraiser for Sons of Norway, Aunt Irja belonged to the group. They did folk dance, taught language classes, held a cultural camp – and for too many summers got Lindsey and her cousins to sell battered fried Swedish meatballs at the fair. The southeast had deep fried Twinkies, Montana has deep fried meatballs.

Montana was going to Billings, to the Metra and seeing the rodeo in February. It was staying with friends there so you could see Garth Brooks at his one stop in Montana.

Montana was huckleberry jam, diesel pick-ups. Having to explain the difference to a New Yorker about the difference between a pick-up and a truck. A truck is large, and typically commercial; a pick-up is well a pick-up.

Montana was Indian Reservations, poverty, meth, and rampant alcoholism. It isn't a perfect place. But, it was the place she could see the mountains. East coast mountains had too many trees on them; you couldn't see the mountains.

"Danny, are you going back up to Cooperstown anytime soon?"

"Huh." Danny looked up from the screen. "Why?"

"I'd like to see what it is like up there. I've heard it is rural."

"It's frigging out in the boonies out there. There are even horses and carriages up there."

"Amish?"

"Yeah, I guess. Flack and I were thinking of going up for the Hall of Fame game this summer. You wanna come?"

"Maybe."

"Homesick for the middle of nowhere?" Danny asked in a teasing voice. He really couldn't imagine living anywhere other than New York; maybe New Jersey. Nah, not New Jersey.

Lindsey chose to ignore his comment. She knew the real Montana.