Post by Chelliet on Sept 6, 2006 12:36:35 GMT -5
Jillian sneezed, holding her breath a moment for the cloud of dust to pass as the Greyhound bus she’d just gotten off of drove down the country road out into the middle of nowhere. No wait, out toward the edge of nowhere. She was already in the middle.
An arch made out of weathered, whole logs proclaimed that she stood at the entrance of the Rocking W Ranch. The road that passed beneath it wasn’t much better than the one she’d been let off on and it wound its way up and over at least one hill to disappear past its crest.
Not a single building was in sight.
Sighing, she shifted the army green backpack on her shoulders and changed her grip on the handle of her battered suitcase. It looked like she would have a long walk ahead.
Three days ago it had seemed like the perfect idea to get a bus ticket to Colorado and leave everything behind. When she got there and found out she only had enough money to get her to Montana, she took the ticket anyway. She’d needed to run away, to get out of reach of her father’s fists and her mother’s indifference.
Now, standing in the middle of a dirt road with the hot summer sun baking down on top of her, she was beginning to rethink that idea. Why had she left so rashly? She had no money, no friends, and no where to go. But she couldn’t go back.
Digging it out of her pocket, she took one more look at the bit of newspaper she’d torn from the Classified section at the bus stop. Ranch hand needed. No experience required.
It was the no experience part that had grabbed her attention and since she was down to her last twelve cents, she desperately needed the money. Folding the bit of paper back into her pocket, she set out to walk to wherever the Rocking W Ranch sat.
Four miles, one sore knee, and two very chafed hands later, she crested a hill and finally saw it.
An arch made out of weathered, whole logs proclaimed that she stood at the entrance of the Rocking W Ranch. The road that passed beneath it wasn’t much better than the one she’d been let off on and it wound its way up and over at least one hill to disappear past its crest.
Not a single building was in sight.
Sighing, she shifted the army green backpack on her shoulders and changed her grip on the handle of her battered suitcase. It looked like she would have a long walk ahead.
Three days ago it had seemed like the perfect idea to get a bus ticket to Colorado and leave everything behind. When she got there and found out she only had enough money to get her to Montana, she took the ticket anyway. She’d needed to run away, to get out of reach of her father’s fists and her mother’s indifference.
Now, standing in the middle of a dirt road with the hot summer sun baking down on top of her, she was beginning to rethink that idea. Why had she left so rashly? She had no money, no friends, and no where to go. But she couldn’t go back.
Digging it out of her pocket, she took one more look at the bit of newspaper she’d torn from the Classified section at the bus stop. Ranch hand needed. No experience required.
It was the no experience part that had grabbed her attention and since she was down to her last twelve cents, she desperately needed the money. Folding the bit of paper back into her pocket, she set out to walk to wherever the Rocking W Ranch sat.
Four miles, one sore knee, and two very chafed hands later, she crested a hill and finally saw it.