Later that evening, Roy and Rex were seated outside on two lawn chairs feet propped, up, watching the sprinklers go off at the main house, a beer in their hands.

"How's the arm?" Roy asked.

"It'll be fine. Bled like a son of a bitch."

"You put anything on it?"

"Couple of old bandaids."

"You need to take better care of yourself, you're to young to get taken out by something as stupid as an infection from a Barb wire fence."

"Hell Roy, I didn't do it on purpose."

Roy laughed and took a drink of his beer leaning his head back and tipping his hat over his face.

"Where the hell did you find that girl?" Rex asked, sitting up to let his legs dangerous on either side of the chair.

"I told you I almost ran her over with the truck."

"Yeah, but where?"

"That old crooked road up by Buffalo bridge."

"Where the hell did she come from?" There's nothing in that area for what three...four miles?" Rex took a drink of his own beer.

"That ain't all... the state she was in."

"Why? What happened?"

Roy fell silent, and Rex sighed. The old man had a tendency to clam up when he was about to say something Rex didn't like.

"Come on, Roy, out with it."

"She was soaked in blood. I mean, buckets of it."

"Hers?"

"Some of it, maybe. Not all of it. There's no way she was walking if it was all hers."

"Her face...it was like that when you found her?"

Rex had seen the bruises, the busted lip, the swollen cheekbone.

"Well, I didn't do it," Roy said quickly.

"No, I know that. Sorry, that's not what I meant. How bad was it?"

"Pretty bad, looked like someone took some boots to her. And her hand had a nasty cut, not sure what from, but I bandaged it up best I could."

"Boots? Why do you think boots?"

"I could see a cut near her eye... they were wearing spurs."

Rex stood pacing away, his stomach turning in knots. He despised men who put their hands on women.

"You're sure?" He asked.

"Yes, I've been a cowboy my entire life. I know what spurs will do to a man...or a woman."

"Okay, so if it wasn't all her blood. Whose was it?"

"Damned if I know."

"Do you think she hurt someone or..."

"Rex, look at her. Does she look to you like she's capable of hurting anyone?"

"And you have no idea where she came from?"

"I have a few ideas but nothing concrete."

Roy sat up on his chair, taking a long drink of beer. If she belonged where he suspected he did telling Rex would only start a fight.

"You'll figure it out?" Rex asked.

"I'm working on it."

"I mean it, Roy, she can't stay here."

"I know, it's not forever, but she's been through something awful... she just needs some time."

"She not a pet Roy!"

"I know that!"

"She's a walking liability, it's just a matter of time before one of those airhead decides to fuck her or worse...convinces themselves their in love with her. I can't have that kind of shit going on right now."

"I know, I'll find something for her, but for now, give the girl a break. The food is good. The bunk is clean, and that is a luxury we don't always have."

"She is one hell of a cook," Rex admitted taking a drink of beer.

He shivered against the cold and pulled his had a little lower. It wasn't particularly cold out but there was a damp chill in the air that his button up shirt didn't prevent.

"Where the hell is your jacket?" Roy asked.

"It's all blood. I can't wear it until I get it washed up."

"If you asked real nice, I bet Flora would wash it tonight. You can't be on the range tomorrow without a jacket."

"I can wash my own damned clothes," Rex said.

"Suit yourself."

Rex finished his beer and tossed the empty bottle into a nearby barrel that served as a garbage can.

"I'm gonna hit the hay, I'll see you in the morning."

"Alright."

Roy fell back against his chair, staring up at the sky with a sigh.

***********************************

Flora was wiping down the stove and counter when Rex walked into the bunkhouse.

The other cowboys turned from whatever was distracting them to glance at him, then returned to their choice of entertainment.

He glanced at her and adjusted his hat, then walked to the washer dropping hid jacket inside and dumping some laundry detergent on top.

She tried to ignore him, but finally, with a sigh, she reached under the sink for the first aid kit. Pulling out the peroxide and making her way to where he stood.

She walked to beside him and turned the knob on the washer to cold water and handed him the peroxide.

"My arms fine," He said gruffly.

"It's for your jacket. Soak the blood with it before you turn on the washer. Wash with cold water, not hot. If you go out smelling like blood, you'll lead every predator for miles right to the cattle."

He glanced behind him, aware that all the men were openly watching the interaction to see what he would do.
He took the bottle.

"This brings out the blood?" He asked dubiously.

"Promise."

"Fine."

He pulled the jacket from the washer and soaked the sleeve with peroxide watching it bubble and lift some of the blood almost immediately. When the foaming stopped he dropped it in the washer and turned it on.

"I'll throw it in the dryer before I got to be," she offered.

"Thank you."

He wanted to ask her how she became an expert at removing blood from clothing, wanted to know whose blood was soaking her dress when Roy found it.

Instead, he exited the bunkhouse without another word to her.

She had just finished tossing the lunches she made into paper bags when Colby stepped into the small kitchen space.

"So, where did you come from?" He asked.

"Does it matter?" She asked.

"Kind of...I understand not wanting people to know your past, though."

She pushed her hair from her face, wishing more than anything for a hair scrunched to tie it back. If she stayed, she might cut it off.

"You seem to know a fair bit about running a ranch," Colby pointed out.

"Yeah, I grew up on one. It was smaller than this, but I learned a lot."

"Maybe one of these days, once that hand heals up, I can take you out for the day on some horses."

"I don't know," she said honestly.

"If you're scared, I can teach you to ride."

"No, I can ride just fine."

"I'd still like to teach you,"

She paused and didn't reply. He seemed nice enough. She did want to fit in, but the idea of being alone with a man frightened her, let alone one she barely knew.

She supposed she shouldn't judge all men based on the few she knew, but all she had learned from men was cruelty and manipulation.

"That would be nice," she said finally after a pause.

He offered her a cheeky grin and then went back to his bunk, opening a magazine about horses.

She turned to finish cleaning up the kitchen.

Roy came in from outside, giving her a small wave on the way to his own room before closing the door.

As promised, she stayed up until he washer finished with Rex's jacket. Then, she tossed it into the dryer.

She flipped through a magazine and listened to the cowboys all snoring as the jacket tumbled in the dryer.
When the timer buzzed signaling, it was dry she pulled it out, feeling the warmth against her body and taking a deep inhale of its fresh scent.

She carried it to the barn, the cool night air nipping at her skin through the shirt she wore as she quickly crossed the yard to the barn.

She carefully walked into the barn, the horses all sleeping in their stalls. She crept past without a sound to the end where she knew Rex was sleeping.

She stepped near the stall and could barely see other than a few lights that were lit in the aisle, he wa asleep in the narrow bed that didn't look at all wide enough for his broad shoulders.

Carefully, she hung the jacket on the cost hanger just inside the door, her fingers brushing against his belt that also hung there.

The large silver bucket caught the light and twinkled in her eyes. A chill ran down her spine as she backed away, her stomach feeling sick and her heart like lead.

She backed up, careful not to make a sound, then she turned and ran from the barn and back to the safety of her own bunk.