The Cattleman, the Widow and the Living Rug

The Cattleman, the Widow and the Living Rug

My tale starts with going to the Cattleman’s meeting. Boring meetings with men who like to drink too much, spend too much and whore around. My mama didn't raise me like that so I spent my time at the hotel in my room or the dining room reading.

I overslept and was almost late for the train home. I bet I looked like a drifter because I didn't have time to shave or take a bath.

Now I’m cursed to sit in the same passenger car right across from an older woman in hideous stiff city clothes that was bound to be uncomfortable and the living rug, Princess Alana of Boston. Some highfalutin dog called an Afghan hound. She had bought a damn train ticket for a DOG! A DOG!
Things went from bad to worse when the train was stopped and robbed of a gold shipment by a gang of murdering thieves. They went berserk and shot everyone on the train including me and the widow. They didn’t think Alana ‘the rug’ was worth shooting I guess. The only survivors were the widow, Alana and me.

I took a look at the carnage and decided right quick to head for home on foot instead of wait for help from Santa Fe or the robbers to come back for seconds.
By the time someone got here to help night would already be here as well as the coyotes, wolves, mountain lions and vultures looking for a free meal.
I raided the dining car gathering what I could to eat or use for medicine and yanked the widow and the dog outside heading home to the Stormy T Ranch.

Over the next five days I found out a lot about myself, the widow and the living rug Alana. Both of those brave females showed more heart than some of the drovers on my ranch and I was proud of them.
And the funny thing is…damn if I didn't fall in love with the widow and eventually marry her. I got to be real fond of the ‘rug’ too as we traveled together surviving the fifty miles home across rough wilderness.