Like a bat outta hell she drove, dust clouds riding on her heels but soon forgotten in a new patch seconds later. The smell of freshly mowed hay brought a sense of peace to the auburn haired cowgirl. Stetson sitting snug on straight locks, brown eyes on the road ahead. “Common dawl don’t die on me now.” Words holding a thick country twang as she heard the tell-all-tale of a cough from the engine and soon smoke bellowed out from the hood. Smacking the wheel in frustration the old junker was pulled to the side. Its paint had been a bright blue some years ago, but now only the gray premier or flecks of blue remained of the once top shape bucket of bolts. “Guess Pa was right about one thing, you sure can’t trust no truck save a Ford.”
Kicking the door open and stepping out onto the moonlit road Sam gave a look around her. Wasn’t a mile sign anywhere in sight, hell she didn’t even see a telephone pole…good. Leather covered cowboy boot kicked one tire as she made her way towards the front of the truck, popping the hood and hitching it open brown eyes looking in to see the damage. “Over heated did ya ol’ gal?” Moving to the pickup’s bed a jug of water was fetched and moments later despite the hot steam that rose, water was poured into the open valve cooling the compartments and the engine as a whole. “There…now I might just be able to make it somewhere before morning if luck still has a fancy for me that is.”
Tossing the jug back and slamming the hood Sam hopped back into the cab and shifted gears heading once more down the dirt road. She’d left earlier that week, having finally gotten tired of dodging weary ranchers and their small town gossip, this small town girl was heading back to the bigger cities…back to the sorta place that had put her in this mess in the first place. I’m not some wide-eyed country girl with the wool over her eyes anymore. She sure as hell wasn’t a naive girl anymore, with lush curves that were shown off in the skintight jeans usually worn and the current mid-drift top of green covered only by the worn yet well taken buckskin jacket that hugged her shoulders and shielded from the cool breeze licking in through the windows.
Flick of the knob on the dashboard and music blared out from the old speakers in the even older piece of junk trunk chugging down the ol’ dirt road. George Strait coming onto the speakers with a newer tune, but one Sam had taken to heart as her own.
How 'bout them cowgirls
Boys ain't they somthin'
Sure are some proud girls
And you can't tell them nothin'
And I tell you right now girls
May just be seven wonders of this big, old round world
But how 'bout them cowgirls.
The truck lasted another hour before she coughed and stalled. Sam was lucky enough to get it to coast into the parking lot of some club in the town she’d just reached. It looked a little deserted, but surely they had a phone. Opening the door to the truck Sam made her way into the club. She needed to find a phone.
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