The sound of thunder and the smell of fresh brewed coffee pulled her from her sleep.
When she opened her eyes, she was staring at a roughcut wooden wall, one she didn't recognize.
A spring was digging into her hip, but she was warm and dry.

She listened to the rain for a minute and then focused on the voices she could hear a few feet behind her.

"Rex isn't going to like this."

"Well, fortunately, it's not up to him, and I had about twenty seconds to make a decision. Hell, I almost ran her over. I couldn't leave her there."

"Should we wake her up?" A third voice spoke.

"Nah, let her sleep. I will talk to Mr. Wild."

"If she came from where you think she did... she's got Navajo blood in her veins, Rex..." The first man started.

"Doesn't get the final say, besides look at all that blonde hair, ain't nobody accusing that girl of being Navajo."

There was silence for a beat, and then the man she knew as Roy spoke again.

"Go get the horses saddled up."

She heard boots retreating and some chairs scraping against the wood plank floors and then the sound of a door.

"You can get up now, I know you're awake."

Slowly rolling over in the bed, she saw Roy standing in the small kitchen.

She sat up, pushing her blonde hair out of her eyes. It was too long, and she should've cut it ages ago.

"Morning," Roy said.

He offered her a friendly smile, and he reminded her of her grandfather. His white had, faded jeans and out of date flannel all the ture marks of a weathered cowboy.

"Good morning," she replied.

"Come on over, get yourself some coffee and breakfast if there's any left."
She stood carefully, crossing the room to where he stood.

She reached for a coffee mug, and he caught her wrist. She froze immediately, thinking she had done something wrong, had faltered in some way.

"Let me get that hand fixed first," He said gently.

"Oh, it's fine."

"Should've done it last night, but I was damned tired.

She didn't speak as he turned to pull a small first aide kit from under the sink. He sat it on the counter and opened it, then motioned to the sink.

She ran some warm water on her hand and then used a bar of soap near the side to rinse off the dried blood.

When she dried it with a towel, she returned to where he stood. He put some antiseptic on it and examined the wound.

"I think you'll live," He teased.

"Great."

He placed a square of gauze on her palm and then began wrapping it with more gauze.

"You don't talk much, do you?"

"No, sorry, I guess I don't have much to say."

"You wanna tell me how a pretty little thing like you got in this condition?"

He finished taping off the gauze and motioned to her face.

"I got tired of not talking, I said no,"she admitted.

He closed the first sit kit and then leaned against the counter, taking a drink of coffee.

"Well, Flora, I would like to help ya, but I have to be honest. A working cattle ranch ain't no place for a lady."

"I can rope and ride, I can bail hay, clean stalls. I can...I can do anything a cowboy can," she said.

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"You won't be doing any of that today, not without proper clothing and not until you're healed."

She bit her already sore lip but didn't reply. She shouldn't be surprised that they didn't want a straggler on their ranch.

"I will talk to Mr. Wilder see what we can arrange. Maybe he can use some help in the house. He's a good, honest old timer, like me. He will do right by ya."

"Thank you."

"For today, lie low. Alright? Eat something, get some rest, take a shower. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen or bathroom or living area."

"I could make dinner," she offered.

"Sure, if you have the energy. If not, don't fret. The cowboys have eaten garbage for years, and one more night won't kill any of them."

"How many?" She asked, glancing at the bunk beds.

"Eight not counting Rex. He shouldn't be home until early tomorrow morning.

She gave a nod, and he walked back into the room in the back of the house. He came out a few minutes later with a pair of jeans and a flannel. A pair of thick, heavy socks on top.

"These will probably be a tad too big, but they're clean."

He handed them to her, and she took them, holding the items against her chest.

"Thank you."

"Your boots are by the door."

She gave a small now, and he reached out, squeezing her shoulder before walking out the door into the rain.

Once he was gone, she set the items he gave her on the cluttered table. Cowboys lived similar to college kids. Beer cans littered the living spaces, dirty dishes piled in the sink, and laundry haphazardly tossed on the beds.

She finished her coffee while staring out the kitchen window. The skies were dark rain pounded the thin glass but inside was warm and dry. She wondered if her father was out there, looking for her.

After finishing her coffee, she picked up the clothes and wandered into the bathroom. Three shower stalls lined the wall to her right, three sinks to the left.
Two toilets in their own stalls sat straight ahead.

She carefully stripped off her clothes. The white cotton dress was stiff with dried blood, and she made the decision to toss it in the garage.

She stripped her under garments, and then, after wrapping in a thick black towel, she hurried to the laundry room near the kitchen, tossing them into the washer 

She returned to the bathroom and turned on the shower. The spray was strong, and steam bellowed out of the stall.

She could remember the last time she had a hot shower. She stepped into the spray, wincing as it hit her raw skin.

Her aching neck, shoulders, and back welcomed the pressure of the hot water. She found some soap and while lathering found the bruises on her ribs and one on her left hip.
Part of her wanted to cry at the shape her body was in, but vanity wasn't her thing, and she had become numb to the scars and brushes.

She found some two in one shampoo and knew it would tangle her hair, but it was better than nothing.

After her shower, she dried off with the towel and pulled on the jeans and flannel. Roy gifted her.

The flannel was huge hanging on her small frame and the jeans were baggy but she found a cut piece of rope and fashioned a belt, leaving the red flannel untucked she pulled the socks over the jeans and then sat on her bed and did her best to finger comb out her tangled, waist length hair.

Once her under garments were dry, she put them on and set to work.

She started by doing all the laundry she found laying around following with the dishes. She threw the beer cans and odd and end garbage away. She wiped off the counters and table.

She made all the beds careful not to disturb anything that was not hers.

She found a sweeper in the closet and also cleaned all the floors.

In the small pantry and fridge, she found the staples to make a pot roast and began preparing dinner for the cowboys.

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

It grew dark outside, and she was just beginning to chop the last few veggies that would cook quickly for the pot roast when she heard a truck approach.

She turned as the front door opened, and a man strode in like he lived there. Although Roy was the only person she had seen face to face, this one clearly didn't belong with the rest.

He was tall, tall enough, and she wondered if he ducked to step inside. Dark hair wet from the rain was soaking his blue shirt and blue jeans, his black boots sounded deafening walking across her clean floor and tracking mud with them.
Huge, if she had to use one word to describe him, it was huge with frightening a close second.

He didn't see her at first as he opened the fridge and pulled out a beer he popped the top and turned and then froze when his blue gaze landed on her.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Her lip trembeled and she gripped the counter behind her as she tried to answer him, no sound coming out.
She glanced down and saw the large gold belt buckle, the same as the one she'd learned to fear.

Her stomach turned, and she offered him a shaky hand. Unable to produce anything but a handshake. 

"I asked you a fucking question!"He yelled.

"What are you doing in my house?!"

She rounded the table, trying to put it between the two of them, and he followed, slamming his beer on the counter.

"Hey, girl, how the hell did you get in here?!"

She bolted running from the bunkhouse and bypassing her boots. She ran barefoot into the freezing rain, her feet sliding in the mud, her socks already soaking up the water.

"Hey! You!" He called after her.

She ran in no particular direction her only thought was to get away, daring and glance back she saw he was pursuing her his long legs, eating the distance between them with ease.

"I'll call the cops!" He yelled.

She tripped, stubbing her toe on a rock and sprawling on her stomach in the mud, her already bruised ribs throbbing and knocking the air from her lungs.

Choking, she pushed up onto her hands and knees, his footsteps right behind her. She braced for whatever was coming, and then a light flooded them both.

"Rex, what the hell are you doing?!"Roy demanded.

She looked up and saw Roy standing near her head, the other cowboys lined up behind him, their faces hidden by the darkness.
Turning, she looked over her shoulder at the man behind her

He was soaked from the rain, his belt buckle gleaming in the flashlight beam made her want to scream.

"Someone help her up," Roy said.

A young cowboy closer to her age rushed forward, pulling her to her unsteady legs. He shrugged off his coat and draped it on her shoulders.

"Who is she?" Rex demanded.

"She's your new ranch hand, and you owe her one hell of an apology," Roy replied.

Rex studied her a minute, then he took off his hat and slicked back his hair. He spit on the ground and settled the hat back on his head.

"We'll see about that," He replied, then he turned and disappeared into the darkness.