She’d enjoyed the small life, raised and breed for the cotton fields of Amarillo. That stupid bite and handsome stranger had changed it all. Spinning the bottle in her hand Sam eyed the man as he spoke. Interested in what he had to say she leaned forward, uncrossing her legs as she did so. ”Economy did a number on a lot of places. Place looks a little rough around the edges, but it seems to have heart…it’ll do fine.” She was relieved to hear about the trails with something like that it meant if worse come to worse she could lose herself in the landscape. Though there were still the issues of the farmers, farmers always had guns and they didn’t like to see a big cat around their livestock.
”Quarter horses huh? Much better stock than thoroughbreds, less high-strung.” She liked horses, but they didn’t seem to like her anymore. At least not all of them, the odd ones still happened to like her, especially the ones that liked cats. The bottle was tipped back again as she settled into the chair once more, finishing it off and setting it on the table. ”Have time for one more before we call it a night or you gotta beat the cows home?” Smirk given at her country humor, wondering if he’d get it or think she was silly.
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