The beat-up old red Ford rumbled down the dark winding road, its dull headlights barely breaking the darkness.

The weathered cowboy inside ran his hands over his face, he was exhausted from the day and eager to get home to his bunk where he could get a blissful four hours of sleep before being up at dawn.

The radio cut in and out as always in the cracked, dust covered dash.

"Son of a batching thing," He cursed, pounding the top of the radio with one hand and taking his eyes off the road for a minute.

When the radio kicked back on, he glanced up and, in a fraction of a second, caught the white figure in the road.

"Shit!" He swerved, jerking the wheel harshly to the right.

He hit the loose gravel and nearly lod5 control slamming on the breaks as the truck careened to a halt.
For a second, there was no sound but his erratic breathing. Then he glanced in the mirror and saw a woman.

"Shit,"

He hurried from the truck and jogged to where the young woman was standing. Her blonde hair hung in long, tangled waves. She was wearing worn-out cowboy boots and a white cotton dress.

"Are you alright?" He called.

She was shaking, and he wasn't sure if it was from fear or the cold. When her blue eyes met his, he saw the mess she was.

Her lower lip was busted, and swollen blood had dried on her chin. Her left eye was swollen shut, and her nose looked broken. Someone had beat her up.

"Are you okay, darling?" He asked.

She gave a small nod, and he glanced down her dress was not only filthy, but there was blood soaking it.

"Is that your blood or someone else's?" He asked.

She slowly held out her left hand, which she had been cradling against herself. A deep cut sliced through her palm.

"Did I clip you? He asked.

"No," she managed.

He looked around the darkened road and then shrugged off his heavy jacket, draping it on her shoulders.

"We best get you somewhere safe,"

He led her to the truck, letting her get in and get comfortable before joining her.
Even though he was warm, he turned on the heat, hoping to soothe her some.

She had leaned back against the seat, her eyes closed.

"You just rest," He said gently.

He drove the last few miles while his new companion dosed off and on.
When he reached the ranch that he had called home for the last fifty years, it was dark.

The Wilder family was in bed in their large mansion, the horses were tucked into the barn, and the cows would still be in the south pasture.

He parked near the large and slightly luxurious bunk house, and the owner of the ranch had always kept his cowboys comfortable.

He shook her gently until she woke up, then motioned her to follow him into the bunkhouse.

When they stepped inside, all the ranch hands were still asleep.

"Now, don't fret too much about any of them they won't hurt ya. You find yourself an empty bunk and get some sleep."

"Thank you."

"The bathrooms are right there to the left. My room is there in the back if you need anything. My name is Roy," He held out a hand.

"Flora," she said softly, shaking his hand.

"You get some sleep, Flora."

He moved through the living room portion of the bunkhouse and disappeared into a back room.

She walked to a wall with two bunk beds, both unoccupied and climbed into the bottom bunk, covering herself with the thin quilt and falling into a deep sleep.