“Farewell to Freedom”

FAREWELL TO FREEDOM Anita Waggoner

An Award Winning Novel SECOND EDITION

“What Happens in Vegas Should Always Stay in Vegas”

By Anita Waggoner

FAREWELL TO FREEDOM Anita Waggoner

Please enjoy this 2nd Edition to Farewell to Freedom.

Published by: Create Space

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the permission in writing by the author.

Anita Waggoner

[email protected]

http://www.farewelltofreedom.com

ISBN-13: 978-1482304336

ISBN-10: 1482304333

Farewell to Freedom is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents, either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to an actual person (living or dead), events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Also enjoy: Charleston Cheat and The Ranch at Coyote Springs.

Available on Amazon.com and at http://www.farewelltofreedom.net

FAREWELL TO FREEDOM Anita Waggoner

SVORPS, (Washington) Ms. Waggoner does a great job in keeping the reader’s interest.

BOOK LORD, (Sarasota, FL) The author weaves in some personal experience; this real-life element helps anchor her stories in reality.

EMMA JONES, ( USA) A lot of people can relate in some way to Anita Waggoner’s writing.

TEXAS BOOK REVIEWS, (Texas, USA) For anyone who likes books on rising above the troubles that life throws at you, Anita Waggoner, is the author to read. Her main character's life is full of those challenges.

ENCINO BOOK MAN, (Los Angeles, CA) If you're looking to get something a little out of the norm and go with an award winning author, here's one for you. B. SILVA, (Camano Island, WA) Anita Waggoner keeps you wanting more. You can't help but admire her determination. I find it difficult to put her books down. Let's hope Anita Waggoner will continue to entertain us with more books! I bought 2 copies of Farewell to Freedom. One to share and one for myself!! WANDA IRISH, (Idaho) I enjoyed Anita Waggoner’s first novel, Farewell to Freedom. I would recommend her books to my friends. I would buy another book by the same author. J. BOLDON, (Salt Lake City, Utah) I’m totally impressed with your writing talents. I thoroughly enjoyed “Farewell to Freedom,” and now I have had a chance to read the first chapter of “Charleston Cheat”. . . Wow, you continue to amaze me. Are all/most of the stories based on your personal experience? Not only are they gripping and intriguing, but they are so well written that I get caught up in the emotions and circumstances involved.

Read other five star reviews at:

http://www. http://www.amazon.com/Farewell-Freedom

FAREWELL TO FREEDOM Anita Waggoner

CHAPTER ONE

Staring out the expansive garden window, Cheyenne Stevens pushed a wild tangle of flame-red hair away from her face. Standing motionless, she took in the scenery as though it were just another normal day. She saw Mount Baker covered with snow. Watching the pristine white caps roll toward the shore over the blue waters of Bellingham Bay, she wiped at the tears rolling down her face. The beauty of Samish Island normally provided solace and peace of mind, but today was different. The reflection of the bedraggled vision she caught a glimpse of in the window frightened her. Who was it staring back at her? Cheyenne didn’t recognize the tear stained face, uncombed hair, or the man’s robe, the image wore. Rubbing her eyes, she suddenly jumped back in terror realizing it was her own reflection! She’d never looked so bad. Abruptly turning away, from the window; memories of the unbelievable events of the day before again inundated her mind. After he’d driven away, she’d wrapped herself in the old robe he’d left

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behind. Crawling into bed sad and alone, she’d buried her face in his pillow, getting some comfort in the familiar aroma he’d left behind.

Recalling the look on his face when he’d confessed there was someone else, she cried out loud, “How can you say it’s over? We had the perfect marriage. Why walk away after twenty years? Come back Ryan, we’ll get through this!”

Cheyenne had no idea their marriage was in trouble. Although she didn’t understand the recent changes she’d seen in her husband. Ryan seemed distant and constantly on edge. Their once active sex life had become rather monotonous. She’d chalked it up to them being a little older, and more settled. When she questioned him about his behavior, he blamed everything on work. Their automobile dealership business had exploded. After buying their fifth store, Ryan was one of the most successful car dealers in the State of Washington. Cheyenne sensed something evil about Tanya when Ryan introduced them at the summer employee party. She asked afterwards why he’d given the mousey looking blonde so much attention. He lied, angrily denying anything was going on between them. Precipitously taking the news of the affair like a dagger to the heart, Cheyenne was in shock. There was no comparison between her and the home-wrecking tramp. How could Ryan be so blind? Cheyenne was a beautiful, sophisticated woman. She had devoted

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her life to making Ryan a success. What was wrong with this picture? Was it only yesterday he’d gone? It seemed like an eternity. The annual company Christmas party was a huge success. They were the perfect hosts. The evening was filled with fun and laughter. Together they had warmly greeted each employee with a handshake and a bonus check. Cheyenne was proud when her good looking husband gave his annual appreciation speech. The party ended on a happy note, around midnight. The valet was waiting with their Mercedes when they walked outside. Cheyenne worried Ryan may be drunk when she saw him drop the car keys. When she asked if he wanted her to drive, he said he was fine. When they pulled away she saw Tanya standing on the curb waving good-bye. When Ryan waved back, Cheyenne sensed trouble.

Putting on a happy face, she said, “What a lovely party. Did you have a good time?” Cheyenne buckled her seat belt. Glancing his way, she anxiously waited for an answer.

“Do you want the truth? Actually, I had a miserable time. You spent way too much on the party, as usual. That was bull shit, Cheyenne. When are you going to stop spending money?” Ryan slurred as he sped away. Tires squealing, he drove away like an out of control maniac. When she asked him to slow down, he screamed, “You bitch, get out. You can walk home! I’m sick of you always telling me what to do!”

FAREWELL TO FREEDOM Anita Waggoner

“Pull the car over Ryan. You’re drunk. Let me drive.” She yelled, feeling angry and frustrated.

“Not in this life time. You’re not driving me anywhere! Shut your damned mouth and get out of my face!” He slammed on the brakes. Lurching forward, Cheyenne grabbed the dash to avoid hitting her head on the windshield.

“Stop it Ryan. You’re going to kill us. Let me drive! You’re acting like a mad man!” she yelled.

Laughing like he’d lost his mind, Ryan stepped on the gas again. Glancing at the speedometer, Cheyenne saw he was going ninety miles an hour. Taking off a shoe she hit him on the head with the spiked heel. Ryan screamed in pain. Stomping on the brakes again he brought the Mercedes to an abrupt stop in the middle of the dark road.

“Get out of the car!” He was enraged.

Thankful they were just minutes from home, she said, “Forget it Ryan. I’m not going anywhere. You get out! Let me drive!”

Ryan suddenly opened the car door and jumped out. She saw him run through the woods toward the house. Cheyenne didn’t try to stop him. Moving into the driver’s seat, she drove away. She couldn't remember them ever having such a fight. When she drove the Mercedes through the iron

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gates she was emotionally drained. Walking toward the house she saw Ryan stagger out of the woods and make a dash toward the front door. She followed close behind. Once inside Ryan stomped off toward the guest room. She thought. Who cares! You’ve been sleeping there lately more often than not anyway. Sleep it off; you’ll get over it in the morning.

Climbing the long stairway to the master bedroom, she felt frightened and alone. Entering the bedroom, intuition told her to lock the door behind her. Within minutes, screaming like a mad man, Ryan beat on the locked door with closed fists.

“You bitch. I’m sick of you. How dare you! My head is pounding. Open the door you bitch!” he threatened.

Appalled at the vile language, she was convinced her usual loving husband had gone completely mad.

Escaping what she assumed may be a violent physical attack, Cheyenne fled through the French doors outside to the balcony. Running down the stairs onto the beach, she walked barefoot on the sand for an hour, hoping he’d give up and pass out. Shivering and distraught, she didn’t return to the house until long after she saw the lights go out. Approaching the outside stairway to the bedroom, she prayed Ryan wasn’t waiting inside with a gun. Dear God please let him be asleep! Keep me safe. Amen.

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The inside bedroom door was still shut and locked. Ryan had apparently given up the fight. Cheyenne fell on the bed in a state of shock, exhausted she was unable to sleep. As daylight streaked in through the bay window, Cheyenne wearily got up from the bed and turned on the shower. Thoughts of the events of the night before consumed her. Taking a quick shower, she was anxious to confront Ryan about the craziness of it all. Pulling her hair back into a pony tail, she slipped on a pair of worn blue jeans and an old sweatshirt. When she walked down the stairs, she saw Ryan sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter. He held his head in his hands. Looking up, he appeared startled when he saw her enter the room. Her beauty had always amazed him, and despite the horrible circumstances of the night before, this morning was no different.

Pouring a cup of coffee, her eyes filled with tears. “What did I do wrong? Why are you so unhappy, Ryan? Have you found someone else?” She asked. Not wanting to hear the answer, she stared out the window, her back toward him, waiting anxiously for him to speak.

Ryan’s head hung low. He'd had rehearsed over and over in his mind what he wanted to say. “Believe me, Cheyenne it's not your fault. You've been a great wife. I'm just tired of taking care of everyone and everything. Maybe it's the change of life, I can't say. I want my life back. I don’t want to hurt you, but you need to know. I've been seeing Tanya Jensen since the 4th of July. I'm in love with her. I'll pack my stuff and be out of here in a few

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hours. I know I've taken it way too far this time. I’m afraid there's no turning back. I want a divorce.” Seeing the look on her face when he finished speaking, greatly disturbed him. He wasn’t fully prepared for the consequences of his unfaithful actions. Feeling like there were no other options, Ryan drank what was left of his coffee, and left the room. Seeing him walk toward the upstairs bedroom, in shock, Cheyenne followed close behind. She made no attempt hold in the gut wrenching sobs. Tears flowed like a river when she saw him take the suitcases from the large walk-in closet. He knew he had hurt her deeply, but there was no changing his mind. Removing shirts and trousers from the closet he methodically folded and stacked them neatly inside the open bags. Frozen to the spot, unable to speak, she watched him pack as though he were simply going on another business trip. Feeling like she may pass out, Cheyenne’s knees weakened and she fell to the floor. The love of her life was walking away, and there was nothing she could do about it!

“Where are you going Ryan? Come to your senses! Do you know what you’re doing? Have you lost your ever loving mind? Please get rid of the home-wrecking slut and we will go on.”

“It’s too late Cheyenne. I'm in love with her! I’ll admit it started as an affair, but it's grown into something more.” He suddenly seemed remorseful, looking like a whipped pup.

FAREWELL TO FREEDOM Anita Waggoner

Moving swiftly, in no time Ryan was down the stairs, dragging the heavy suitcases through the living room.

Refusing to believe what was happening Cheyenne followed closely behind. As they walked through the living room, she remembered his presents were under the tree.

“Take your Christmas presents with you. I want them out of here.”

“I don't want them. Take them back and get a refund.” His cruel, uncaring statement broke her heart. Why had she put so much energy into finding him the perfect gifts?

“Take the frigging presents. I won’t humiliate myself by returning them! Who is this stranger? I don’t know who you are anymore. What happened to the man I love?”

Ryan grudgingly sat down his suitcases by the opened front door. Stomping into the kitchen, he returned momentarily carrying a large, plastic bag. Reluctantly gathering the gifts from under the tree, he hurried outside, uncaringly dragging the sack behind him. The man walking away is a monster. She didn't recognize who he'd become.

“Don’t let the door hit you in the ass! Do the twenty-years we’ve had together mean anything to you?” Stubborn dignity kept her from begging him to stay. Cheyenne’s knees wobbled. Feeling as though she may crumble

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to the floor again, she asked, “Why are you doing this, especially at Christmas?”

“I’m sorry. I’m not sure I know why. It’s just something I must do.” He looked at her with a condescending smile.

Her temper began a slow boil and the room spun. "I don’t understand. What do you mean must do?" She felt like she was walking a tight rope that was ready to snap.

“I’m going now! I never imagined it would come to this, but it has. You’re a good woman. As smart and beautiful as the day we married. Believe me it has nothing to do with you. I took it way too far this time. There's no turning back. Take care and have a Merry Christmas.” Looking at her with sad puppy dog eyes, he smiled a cold smile and walked away. She knew then it was over.

“Enjoy the home wrecking slut. You can both rot in hell!” Cheyenne wanted to beat him to a pulp. At that moment she hated him. How dare he wish her a Merry Christmas after just destroying her world?

Cheyenne followed close behind as Ryan nervously walked toward the black Hummer idling in the driveway. When he opened the car door she saw several brightly wrapped presents on the back seat. “I see you’ve done your Christmas shopping. The bitch doesn’t deserve anything from Nordstrom. Did you buy her a diamond ring too?” Cheyenne waved her left hand in

FAREWELL TO FREEDOM Anita Waggoner

front of him and pointed to the diamond wedding ring he'd given her years before. Without giving it any further thought, she flipped him the middle finger.

As if in a daze, Ryan placed his belongings inside. Looking back momentarily, he said. “Don’t blame Tanya. Our marriage was over some time ago. Divorce is the only answer. Hopefully we'll be fair with each other.” He gave her a go-to-hell look.

The dam broke as tears she'd been fighting to hold back suddenly tracked down her sad face. “Please just help me to understand. Why?”

Ryan sighed wearily, “Cheyenne, we've had a decent marriage. There are many great memories. I will never forget the good times. You and the girls will always be family. I’ll forever love them, and in some ways, you too. I need excitement in my life. I think I’ll find it with Tanya. I’m sorry. It’s time to move on. As time passes by, you'll get over me.”

The silence drew long as she stood sadly absorbing what he'd said. Then suddenly, without another word, Cheyenne spun on her heels. Running into the house, she slammed, and then locked the door behind her. Standing momentarily with her back pressed against the door, emotions consumed her. She didn’t want him to leave, and yet she feared he would return. Right now she just wanted him out of her sight. Feelings ran wild. She loved him, as much as ever, and at the same time she despised him.

FAREWELL TO FREEDOM Anita Waggoner

In shock, speechless and bewildered, Cheyenne slowly walked upstairs to the lonely bedroom. The empty house consumed her. Throwing herself onto the big king-sized bed she lay frozen and unable to move. She heard Ryan honk as he drove away. Confused, she prayed he'd come to his senses. Something inside told her, he wouldn’t. He was gone for good.

She thought. I’m such a fool! The tears were unstoppable. She didn’t bother to brush them away. She thought. What will I tell the kid's, and our friends? This totally sucks!

Their oldest daughter, Tammy recently moved to Los Angeles where she worked as a legal assistant. Her youngest, Mary Louise lived in Nashville with her useless husband, Henry. They had gone there two years before to pursue musical careers.

Cheyenne was in her early twenties when her daughters were born. They had grown up together. She was too upset to tell them about Ryan's affair. She intended to calm down before she called. She would need to be strong, for their sake. They would surely hate Ryan for what he’d done.

“It’s a good thing they’re not here. I wouldn't want them to see me like this. Damn it! Everyone has a life, but me! I despise being alone. I loved you, Ryan! How dare you leave me! I don’t deserve this?”

The telephone rang. Her traitorous heart skipped a beat. She thought. It’s him calling to say he's sorry. Ryan's coming home. Checking the caller ID

FAREWELL TO FREEDOM Anita Waggoner

she saw it was her best friend, Kathryn Kennedy. It must be mental telepathy. How could she know something is so terribly wrong? Cheyenne was relieved to hear Kathryn’s voice.

“What’s going on, girlfriend? You sound terrible. Are you coming down with a cold?" As usual, Kathryn was in a good mood, unaware her friend's world had just tumbled down around her.

Unable to hold the hurt inside any longer, Cheyenne sobbed, "Ryan's gone. He won’t be coming back. He has a girlfriend. Can you believe he left me for that money hungry bitch Tanya Jensen?”

Cheyenne’s apparent desperation made Kathryn sick to her stomach. She felt her pain. "I'll be there in thirty minutes!”

She arrived hour later with chicken soup, a bottle of Cheyenne’s favorite wine, and a dozen long stemmed red roses.

“Tell me everything!” The shit ass rat bastard! What has he done this time? Do you need to call your attorney? Get over him, Cheyenne. The dog isn’t worth crying over. Let him go. He was never good enough for you anyway.” Kathryn was saddened to see her pretty friend so upset. Scurrying around the familiar kitchen, she warmed the chicken soup. "Eat this while it's hot. I’ll help you pack your bags! You’re coming with me to Las Vegas.”

FAREWELL TO FREEDOM Anita Waggoner

Although she hadn’t eaten since the day before, Cheyenne wasn’t hungry. She sipped the soup, not wanting to disappoint Kathryn. “I haven't had an appetite sense he left." Blowing her nose into a paper napkin, she muttered, “What do you mean you’ll help me pack? I’m not going anywhere. Look at me! I look like crap, and I feel even worse! I don't have the energy to go anywhere! I just want to stay here and die!" Scraping the bottom of the bowl, she finished the last drop. "What's wrong with you? Can’t you see I’m heart-broken! Why would you take me to Las Vegas? Have you lost your ever loving mind?"

Kathryn retrieved a pair of airline tickets from her purse and waved them in the air.

“I won’t hear it. We’re going to Las Vegas! Trust me you need to get out of here. Let’s go pack your bags!”

Cheyenne couldn’t stand the thought of staying in the empty house without Ryan. She'd never turned down a chance to travel with Kathryn. There was no better time than the present to go along with the plan.

"I'll go, but I'm not over this. Can you put up with my crying and carrying on?" Cheyenne looked up with sad red eyes.

“I've put up with your sniveling before. What are you waiting for? Get out of those pajamas! Pack your dancing shoes. We're going to celebrate new beginnings!” Always dressed to the nines, Kathryn wore designer jeans,

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high-heeled boots, and a black leather jacket. Her makeup was flawless and her long, tousled blonde hair, salon fresh. Cheyenne wondered what it would take to pull herself together. Placing both hands low on her hips, Kathryn insisted, “Get in the shower, girlfriend! The flight leaves in a few hours!”

Cheyenne moved slowly toward the stairs. Seeing her disheveled reflection in the living room mirror frightened her. She deserved much better. After all, she wasn’t going to die. She had every reason to want to live. Ryan could go to hell. How dare he walk away and leave her in such misery? She hated his unfaithful ass. “What’s happened to me? I look like hell!” Bolting upstairs Cheyenne hoped a hot shower, and fresh makeup, would give her a new attitude.

Enjoying the hot shower, her mind wandered. Thinking about her father, she remembered how he'd loved her unconditionally. He'd been such a caring man; a faithful husband to her mother. It broke her heart when he died. She was only ten. Closing her eyes, she pictured the remains of the wrecked airplane, “Why me, God? You took away my father, and now my husband. What’s next? What's my fate? Help me move forward. Stop this unbearable pain! Amen.”

Cheyenne never turned down a chance to travel with Kathryn. They had toured the world together. But this time was different, the sadness of Ryan’s leaving was still palpable, and the wound fresh. She heard her friend opening drawers and removing clothes from the closet. “I can’t go this time!

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I'm sure you think you know best, but I just can’t!” Covering her wet face with trembling hands, Cheyenne sobbed, “They won’t let me on the damned airplane! I look like crap!”

“I don’t want to hear it! You're going! The diversion will be good for your soul. We’ll relax at a spa and do some shopping. Maybe even see a show. It’s a girls’ getaway, no frigging men allowed! Get the jerk and the gold digging whore off your mind. Forget them both! Divorcing the pig won’t be easy, but it will be worth it. You’ll see. Las Vegas will help prepare you for the battle. Divorce is war! Believe me, I know! It took three years to get rid of my last husband!” Kathryn was determined to help Cheyenne get over it.

Despite her forty-seven years, Cheyenne had a gorgeous figure. She looked much younger than her actual age. Gazing at her naked reflection in the bathroom mirror, she wondered. Why did he stop loving me? I’ve still got it going on. Screw the bastard. She ran long fingers through her hair. "Wouldn’t it be crazy if I met a new man in Las Vegas?” She asked, realizing it would her take a long time to get over Ryan. She certainly wasn't ready to fall in love again.

“Look at you my friend! You're a beautiful woman! You don’t need the cheating fool in your life. With your looks, and half the money, the world will be at your fingertips! Get dressed! Your bags are packed. A limo is picking us up in thirty minutes!”

FAREWELL TO FREEDOM Anita Waggoner

Kathryn ignored Cheyenne’s sniveling on the way to the airport. She insisted she put a smile on her face and buck up. The flight took less than three hours. They were settled in their room at the Golden Nugget on Fremont Street, by nine o’clock that evening.

Cheyenne spent the first two days gambling, shopping and crying. She bought a pair of red leather pants, a diamond tennis bracelet, stiletto boots, fancy dresses, designer purses, several pair of shoes, and loads of sexy underwear. She instructed the clerks at Neiman-Marcus to wrap everything in festive Christmas paper and mail the packages to her home in Washington; hoping they would arrive in time for Christmas.

Daily spa treatments provided much needed relaxation and comfort. Cheyenne spared no expense indulging in every service the spa offered. Paying with Ryan's credit card gave her a perverse sense of satisfaction.

Kathryn insisted they go to breakfast every morning. Cheyenne went along, but she couldn’t eat. Shuffling food around on her plate she remembered the many meals she shared with Ryan. She pictured him sharing his breakfast with Tanya. The mere thought made her sob out loud.

It upset Kathryn to hear her cry, “Enough already! I've lost my patience with you, girlfriend." It pained her to see her friend’s sea-blue eyes red and swollen. No matter how much time Cheyenne spent putting her makeup on

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each morning, within minutes her perfectly made-up face was streaked with tears. Her perky nose was beet red from blowing.

Cheyenne tried to drown her sorrows by drinking wine with lunch and dinner. She found the alcohol provided little relief; and remained a pitiful, broken soul. Kathryn wondered if bringing her friend to Las Vegas was such a good idea.

As Cheyenne soaked in the Jacuzzi tub in the hotel suite early one evening, Kathryn crept silently out of the room. Visiting the adults-only store in the hotel lobby, she purchased a variety of sexy gifts. Cheyenne was startled to see her friend enter the bathroom carrying a large shopping bag. “Where have you been?”

Giggling like a school girl, Kathryn fell to her knees. “I went shopping downstairs. You won’t believe what I found!” Reaching into the bag, she produced a package of colored condoms and several weird looking sex toys.

“Oh my goodness, I’ve never seen such things. You are the craziest woman I know. I can’t help but wonder if Ryan uses condoms when he screws that bitch.” No matter how hard she tried, Cheyenne couldn’t get her cheating husband off her mind.

“Forget the fool! I doubt that he does. He’s too stupid. I hope old Tanya gives him herpes!” In between Cheyenne’s tears and hysterical outbursts of laughter, Kathryn continued to pull items from the bag. “Check out this

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lacey thong. It’s hot, don’t you think? You should wear it tonight! You might get lucky!”

“You're totally nuts! I couldn’t stand the strap going up my butt!” Cheyenne laughed out loud. She wasn't sure why, but the possibility of a sexual encounter made her smile. “You may be right, Kathryn. A one night stand might be what it takes for me to get over Ryan. I’d like to get even with him! I'll show the bastard! Two can play this game. Give me the damned thong!”

Kathryn freaked out seeing her friend abruptly stand up naked from the bubble bath. Instantly drying off, Cheyenne slipped on the tiny thong, and danced topless around the hotel room. “I’m ready. Let’s get it on!”

“There are at least a thousand cowboys downstairs in the casino. Let’s go get us one!” It made Kathryn happy to see Cheyenne in a better state of mind. An hour later they were dressed and out the door, ready for some Las Vegas action.

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CHAPTER TWO

On the fourth day in Las Vegas after a morning exercise session at the gym, the women walked through the casino at the Golden Nugget. "Let's get out of this place for a few hours. I could sure use a change of scenery. How about the Bellagio, or the Mirage, maybe it will change our luck.” Cheyenne felt blue and bored.

"We'll have good luck right here. We don’t need to go somewhere else to have a good time. Do you want to play blackjack?" Kathryn walked away leaving Cheyenne no option but to follow. Trying to control anger boiling up inside, Kathryn appeared to be visibly upset. “You need to learn to make the most out of the moment. Change your way of thinking. You can't go through life believing you'll always find better somewhere else, Cheyenne. We'll have a good time right here at the Nugget."

Cheyenne trailed a few steps behind, and when Kathryn plopped down at a blackjack table near Claude's Bar, she sat down next to her. Even though

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they were dressed in workout clothes, the women were a lovely sight. Kathryn wore a simple black jogging suit. Cheyenne’s brand new two-piece, navy blue, velvet outfit hugged her slim body, accentuating her curves. She was embarrassed by her appearance. She couldn't remember when she’d been seen in public looking quite so disheveled. Her long, thick, red hair was pulled back into a pony tail. She wore a black baseball cap with “Available” written in large white letters across the front. Cheyenne imagined her eyeballs must be as red as the hair on her head. The redness in her eyes made her deep blue eyes look even bluer. To the outside world, the heart broken woman appeared confident and stunning. Usually looking good no matter what she wore, deep down inside Cheyenne felt shattered and insecure.

Despite the present circumstances, Cheyenne appeared no worse for the wear to the blackjack players sitting with her at the gaming table. A handful of good looking cowboys stood back ogling the women from the bar. Seeing Cheyenne’s perfectly shaped white teeth glisten like pearls, Kathryn nonchalantly remarked, as she often did, "It's a beautiful thing to see my friend take a bite out of a bright red apple." It was a joke between them; Cheyenne sometimes pretended to bite into an apple just to show off her nice white teeth.

Unknowing strangers assumed Cheyenne was a well-cared-for and loved woman. Carrying herself in a stately manner, she gave the impression of being taller than her petite five-feet-five-inch frame. It was obvious she

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worked out regularly. Her thin, sleek body appeared slender and toned. Her perfectly manicured, long-fingered, graceful hands displayed two mammoth- sized diamond rings. A diamond-encrusted, blue-faced Rolex encircled her small, delicate wrist.

Although feeling miserable and depressed, Cheyenne was ironically cheered up by Kathryn’s constant, comical banter with the dealer, and other players at the blackjack table. Unusually quiet and in deep thought, she sat patiently waiting for the dealer to shuffle and deal the cards. Cheyenne’s mind was on Ryan and the wonderful life they had shared.

Slowly becoming comfortable in her surroundings, although the casino was noisy, she heard her name announced over the hotel paging system. “Telephone call for Cheyenne Stevens, please pick up the nearest house phone!” She was concerned who it was calling her in Las Vegas. She thought. Who knows I'm here. She hadn’t told anyone but her neighbor Katie, where she was going.

Pushing a stack of red five-dollar poker chips in front of Kathryn, Cheyenne abruptly left the blackjack table.

“Make my bets, Kathryn. I’ve got a phone call. I’ll be back soon!”

As she walked away, she heard a man’s low southern voice. Now that’s a beautiful woman!

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Without turning to look back, Cheyenne set off to find a house phone. Seeing one close to the cashier’s cage, she picked it up.

“This is Cheyenne Stevens. Do you have a call for me?”

After a brief pause, she heard her oldest daughter Tammy’s voice on the other end of the line.

“I’ve been worried about you, Mama! How are you? I called dad. He said you'd gone to Las Vegas with Kathryn. He thought you'd be staying at the Golden Nugget, so I took a chance and called you there.”

“I wonder how he knew I was in Vegas. Did he tell you we're getting a divorce?” Cheyenne trembled at the thought of sharing all the horrible details with Tammy.

“What the hell are you talking about, Mom? No, he didn’t say anything about that. You’ve got to be kidding!” Tammy sounded upset and angry.

“You heard me right, Tammy. We’re getting a divorce. He has a girlfriend. I’ve only known about it for a week. I didn’t want to worry you; so I didn’t call.”

“The shit head, how can he walk out on you? Do you want me to drive over there? I could be in Vegas in a few hours. I’m so sorry! What a bummer. Jesus what lousy timing! It’s Christmas!” Tammy sobbed.

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“Please don’t worry about me. Take care of yourself in L.A. I’ll handle your father! I'm feeling much better now than when I first heard the news. Kathryn is taking very good care of me. We’re playing blackjack this morning. I need to get back to the game. I’m fine, really Tammy, I’ll be just fine. Don’t worry about your old Mama.” Cheyenne sounded calm, despite her sadness. Suddenly feeling emotional again, she cut the call short.

“I’ll call you later, honey! Good bye! I've got to run!”

Giant tears rolled down her face. Cheyenne couldn’t stop crying again. Meandering through the crowd, she returned to the blackjack table.

As she approached Claude’s Bar, she overheard Kathryn's loud, cheerful chatter. Wiping the tears on her sleeve, she sat down. She saw her friend was winning every hand. Thanks to Kathryn, her own stack of red five-dollar chips had doubled in size. Everyone at the table was winning. Eager to return to the fun, Cheyenne quickly pushed two red chips forward. “I’m in!” An older, good looking pit boss suddenly joined the party. He smiled pointing toward the baseball cap she wore, he said, "Good luck pretty woman! I have to ask, are you really available?”

Cheyenne smiled, “I think so. Yes, I guess I am available!” The pressure was on for the dealer to deal herself a blackjack, and she did. Then suddenly, strictly by chance, and solely with the intention of helping out a fellow blackjack player, Cheyenne met Rowdy Harrison.

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Several casino employees gathered watching the cowboy who sat next to her. She overheard the dealer say, “Sir! If you continue to put two hands on the cards, I’ll have to ask you to leave the table!” Without considering the consequences, Cheyenne reached for the cowboy’s hand. Placing his calloused hand on her knee, she held it there and stared demurely into the cowboy’s piercing blue eyes. It was as though a bolt of lightning instantly ripped through her entire body. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Smiling a dazzling, crooked smile he winked, apparently showing a sign of gratitude. She smiled. “Will this help?” Holding his hand steadfast in a warm grip, Cheyenne gazed up and down the long, lean, athletic body. Liking what she saw, she took it all in.

Giving her a second wink, and grinning wide, the curly-haired cowboy gently squeezed her soft hand. “Yes Ma’am!”

Blushing like a school girl, Cheyenne felt the warmth of his tender touch. She shuddered. “My name’s Cheyenne Stevens.”

The cowboy tipped a dusty, black cowboy hat away from a tired, wrinkled face. “Howdy ma'am, pleased to meet you. My name’s Rowdy Harrison. I'm from Freedom, Oklahoma!”

She noticed his light red hair, and appreciated his clean crisp appearance. She saw that his blue cowboy shirt matched the blue of his eyes. The Wrangler jeans were starched and stiff. A crease ran down the front of his

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long legs. Paying particular attention to the huge silver western belt he wore, she thought. Those jeans could stand alone! Wondering if the tight jeans were comfortable, she couldn’t help but notice how he filled them out in all the right places. The cowboy reminded of her a bit of her daddy. She briefly thought about his old championship silver belt buckle she kept in her safe at home. She’d dreamed about one day meeting a man like him. At that moment, Rowdy seemed to fit the bill. She heard him ask a passing bar maid for a beer, and the sound of his voice brought her back with a jolt.

“Bring me a Bud Light please, ma’am,” he said in a slow southern drawl without taking his hand from hers.

“Make it two, please!” Cheyenne stared into his deep blue eyes. She’d never before ordered a beer at eight-thirty in the morning. She heard Kathryn say, “I’ll take one too!” Her friend didn’t like beer! There was truly a first time for everything.

Rowdy drank his Budweiser down fast, and was soon ready for another. “Play my hand beautiful while I go get us another beer.”

“Sure cowboy, if you promise to hurry back.” Pushing away from the table Rowdy squeezed her hand. "I promise you, I’ll be back.” He winked and walked away.

Cheyenne watched him approach a smiling cowboy standing alone at the bar. Turning toward her Rowdy pointed and waved. "Hey Tim, come join us.

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I’ve found a couple of real winners! Check out the gorgeous redhead. Don’t you think her blonde friend is a cutie pie?”

The cowboys joked back and forth for several minutes, leaving Cheyenne to wonder what they were talking about. They looked her way again, and she smiled. Winking, she toasted them with an empty beer bottle.

She saw Tim’s dark brown hair was neatly combed over to one side. He was shorter, and appeared a few years older than Rowdy. He looked like a real cowboy in his stiff, starched, red plaid cowboy shirt; and newer-looking Wrangler blue jeans.

Ordering another beer, the cowboys turned back toward the bar. Cheyenne poked Kathryn in the side, getting her attention. “Check out those sexy Wrangler butts at the bar!” The women laughed out loud. The dealer dealt them each a blackjack. “Pretty ice to look at, I’ll agree! Thank you!” Kathryn smiled and raked her winning chips toward her.

Each carrying two beers, the men returned together to the blackjack table. Looking Rowdy’s cowboy friend over from head to toe, Cheyenne thought. He's a little bit bow legged. He looks like an old bronc rider! The bow- legged cowboy pulled up a stool. He sat down between the two women as Rowdy reclaimed his seat. Cheyenne smelled a musky fragrance coming from the bow-legged cowboy. She thought. Nice cologne. I hope it doesn’t make my allergies go nuts. Extending her hand, she said, “Howdy partner!

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My name's Cheyenne Stevens. This is Kathryn Kennedy. Doesn’t she look a bit like Goldie Hawn?”

Winking at Cheyenne, Tim had a smile on his face. “Thank you ma’am, I’m sorry about the cologne I may have gotten a little carried away. My name’s Tim Kelsey. I'm pleased to meet you! Good to meet you too, Goldie!” Kathryn took a peek at the cards she'd been dealt. “It’s nice meeting you, Tim! I’m thinking you must be a real cowboy!”

“Yes ma’am, I guess about as real as they get. I’m a roping fool. I raise quarter horses on my ranch in Freedom. I’ve spent a little time on George Strait’s place in Texas. I go there to rope steers with my old buddy, Roy Jones.”

Obviously feeling the effects of the beer Cheyenne slurred, “I can't believe we met some real cowboys. We had no idea the National Finals were going on. I've never seen so many black hats in one place in my life. My daddy was a real cowboy; a world-champion bareback rider. I know all about your kind. I used to think I wanted to be a cowboy’s sweetheart, and then I met a damned car dealer.”

“My horse ranch is in Cave Creek, Arizona. I live there in the winter, and summer in Washington. I raise quarter horses too; have a couple Arabians. How big is your ranch, Tim?” Kathryn asked changing the subject.

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Rowdy felt left out, he was anxious to get back into the conversation. “There's over seven thousand acres on my Freedom ranch. Tim owns a huge feed lot and a steakhouse. You gals should come visit us in Freedom sometime. We’ll show you around our world.”

“Wow, seven thousand acres, that’s a lot of land. You must be a rich cowboy! Tell me more. I like the sound of Freedom. I could live in a place like that! Thanks for the invitation. We may take you up on the offer!” Cheyenne was excited. She enjoyed the cowboy’s friendly banter.

Their luck suddenly changed. Chatting aimlessly back and forth with their new cowboy friends, the women began to lose. Tim saw their chips dwindle. Opening his wallet he placed several one hundred dollar bills on the table. “I'll take all green chips. Please, ma’am!” The dealer took his money, and methodically counted out six hundred dollars in green chips. She pushed the tall stacks of chips toward him. With his arm slung around Kathryn’s shoulders, he made her feel a little uncomfortable. Tim pushed a tall stack of green chips in front of her. “Here you go girl, you play them, Goldie!”

Kathryn thought. Should I go for it? Seeing her dilemma, Cheyenne nodded. She was surprised to see Rowdy push a short stack of red poker chips in front of her. "No thank you cowboy. I have money!" Rowdy winked, “Aw, come on pretty girl, help me spend mine!”

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It wasn’t either woman’s nature to take advantage. Caught up in the hysterical mood of the table, and the loud action going on around them, the women took the cowboy’s money. Doubling their bets, they saw their winning streak return. The cowboys were a little nervous, seeing the women make the large bets, yet they were pleased to see them win. “Good job, Rowdy. Thanks for finding these winners!” Tim was excited.

Cheyenne and Kathryn continued to place bets like there was no tomorrow. They joked with the dealer and other players at the table. Feeling no pain, Rowdy drank down a few more beers. He stopped using two hands to hold the cards; and kept the bar maid busy delivering cold beer to everyone at the table. Cheyenne saw he was generous with his tips. She enjoyed being around such carefree, fun-loving people. Making a conscious effort to join in the fun, she pushed the thoughts of Ryan and his mistress out of her mind.

“It looks like I’ve met Mrs. Lucky!” Rowdy happily filled his pockets with the green chips she’d won.

Everyone at the table enjoyed the cowboy’s stories. “I told Rowdy we should bring a couple of gals with us to Vegas. He said why take sand to the beach? Rowdy was right. I'm glad we didn’t bring our Freedom women. These city gals are way too much fun! Believe me I’ll listen to Rowdy from now on!” Tim grinned and the players roared. The Oklahoma cowboys made her forget the crap going on in her world. Cheyenne was finally happy.

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As the morning went by, the four blackjack players became good friends. They couldn’t remember ever having had so much fun. The cowboys adored everything about the high society women, especially their fun loving attitudes. Winning every hand, the poker chips piled up in front of them.

After drinking all morning Cheyenne felt a little drunk. She suggested they leave the game and walk outside for some fresh air. The new friends left the blackjack table. Staggering toward the cashier's window, they collected their winnings. Tim insisted Kathryn keep half of what they won together. She smiled wide. When Rowdy offered a handful of chips, Cheyenne refused. He obviously needed the money more than she did.

The gamblers were happy and excited as they walked out onto Fremont Street. It was ten o’clock on Saturday morning, the last weekend of the National Finals Rodeo. The street was crowded, ablaze with live, loud country western music blasting, and Vendors selling their western wares. They drank another beer as they walked down the crowded street. Arm in arm, they laughed and carried on like drunken sailors. Placing a strong arm around Cheyenne’s trim waist, Rowdy pulled her close. Tim and Kathryn strolled along hand in hand. They walked The Strip in search of more fun. Cheyenne noticed Kathryn was a foot taller than Tim. She smiled thinking her sexy blonde friend, and the short bow-legged cowboy made a cute couple.

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They hadn’t gone far when three colorful, feathered Vegas showgirls barked, “Come on in and place your bets!” The lively winners followed the entertainers into the casino. The long-legged showgirls were attracted to the friendly Oklahoma cowboys. They engaged them in friendly conversation. Flirting and carrying on, the women enticed the drunken men to play the dollar slots; the cowboys enjoyed the attention. “Watch your back boys these girls just want your money!” Cheyenne laughed, realizing old Rowdy was a womanizing fool.

“How much would it cost to take one home with me? Those feathers would sure keep me warm this winter!” Rowdy teased.

They followed the feathers into the loud casino. Rowdy quickly plopped down at a dollar machine and pulled Cheyenne to his lap. They played the old-fashioned dollar slot machine and were surprised to win. The silver coins rolled into their waiting hands and beyond to the casino floor. Cheyenne was crazy. She couldn’t believe when the machines continued to pay. Every pull on the handle produced a win. The four players whooped and hollered with every pull of the slot handle. Kathryn held Tim’s black cowboy hat in her lap filling it with silver dollars. Getting caught up in the excitement, Rowdy removed his cowboy hat and sailed it across the casino. He yelled, “Yahoo!” Momentarily forgetting the pending divorce, and the cheating shit-ass she was married to, Cheyenne finally stopped crying.

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Growing weary of the loud noise and excitement, they left the casino. Making their way outside onto the Strip again, they listened to a loud country western music band. When the entertainer belted out his rendition of the George Strait song “Under This Old Hat,” Rowdy took Cheyenne into his arms, waltzing her down the street. Loosing Tim and Kathryn in the crowd, they were alone for the first time. Fremont Street was alive! The street was covered with a sea of cowboys and rodeo fans looking for a good time. Despite the giant celebration Cheyenne felt suddenly miserable and depressed. She was thankful for Rowdy’s company.

She and Ryan had once danced to the same George Strait song at Billy Bob’s Bar in Fort Worth, Texas. The memories of times gone by overwhelmed her with a feeling of extreme sadness. Rowdy held her in his arms long after the song was over. Continuing their journey down Fremont Street they shared similar heartache stories. Rowdy had been hurt too. She wanted to know everything. Although it had only been a few short hours since they met, Cheyenne didn’t want to lose the tender man she'd found at the blackjack table in Vegas.

Engrossed in deep conversation, oblivious to their surroundings, they found a bench away from the party scene on Fremont. Sheltering her from the December cold, Rowdy pulled Cheyenne to his lap and put his arm around her. He sat silently watching her shiver, cry and wipe at her nose with his worn white handkerchief. It made him sad to hear her talk about her

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life with Ryan. The stories left him feeling jealous. He felt sad wishing he’d met her years before.

Rowdy understood her pain. He’d been cheated on and dumped by his ex-wife. He’d wanted to die when she'd walked away. She'd taken his daughter and left his two year old son behind in his care. “I’ve been hurt too, Cheyenne. Believe me, I know how it feels. It hurts! God brought us together for a reason!” Rowdy realized he could easily fall in love with the broken-hearted woman he held in his arms.

Crying again uncontrollably, Cheyenne sobbed. “It's really not all about me. I’m sorry you’ve been hurt too. It’s no fun to be treated so badly.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m over it. The bitch can burn in hell. You look so good to me, baby! I need to be honest with you. I don't remember ever dating a woman wearing a jogging suit. They laughed together. He loved her laugh. Cheyenne admired his crazy sense of humor. Rowdy had never been with such a beautiful woman. Despite her swollen red eyes and tear stained face, Rowdy thought she was beautiful. He said, “You’re my angel, baby!”

Sitting on the cold bench for several minutes, they failed to notice they were surrounded by several dirty homeless men. Finally seeing what was going on around them, Rowdy suggested she hide her expensive jewelry. His concern put her on edge. Without delay, she promptly obliged.

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Just as the diamonds were safely tucked away, in a zipped pocket of her jogging suit; an obviously tormented, straggle toothed man approached. Offering a rumpled brown paper bag containing a pint liquor bottle, he stammered, “Buy you a drink cowboy?”

“No thanks pal!” Rowdy was polite. Looking toward Cheyenne, he nodded, “It's time for us to get going!”

Cocking his head toward the vicinity of the casino, he pulled her up from the bench. They ran away from the generous intruder as though they were running for their lives.

Reaching the safety of the Golden Nugget, Rowdy yawned, “I need a nap! Come with me, we'll rest for a while. I'd sure like to take you to dinner tonight pretty girl.”

“Sure, I'll come along if you promise sleep is the only thing on your mind? It’s been a very long day. I’m exhausted. I could use a nap. Dinner sounds good, but I’ll need to confirm with Kathryn. I’m not sure what she has planned.”

Taking his hand, she let the cowboy lead her toward the casino elevator.

When the elevator reached his floor, Rowdy anxiously guided her down the hallway. His hands shook as he unlocked the door. They were thankful to be alone in the hotel room, away from the boisterous crowd on the street.

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Lying side by side on the bed, they felt fortunate to have found each other. Kissing her on the lips, Rowdy tied the drawstrings of the velvet jogging suit in multiple knots. “Believe me, baby, it's not sex I want. We need to sleep!”

She laughed, “I’m not offering you sex.” Sex was the last thing on her mind. The constant crying and carrying on she'd done since Ryan left had taken its toll. Cheyenne was exhausted! Completely worn out, she longed to fall asleep in Rowdy’s arms, the sooner the better. Staring with wide eyes, she saw him remove his shirt. Marveling at the muscled arms, chiseled waist, gorgeous six-pack, and hard nipples; she took it all in like a school girl on a trip to the beach. Cheyenne suddenly felt wide awake, independent and cavalier.

“Get over here and give me some of that!” Cheyenne grinned feeling happy she’d met the good looking cowboy.

Rowdy pounced next to her on the bed like a swift panther. Nuzzling his lips to her ear, he held her face gently in his hand.

“I was only kidding, baby. We need to sleep!” She looked at him starry- eyed.

“You're such a tease! But I like it” Rowdy said with a grin.

They nodded off, but in a few short minutes, Cheyenne felt him get up from the bed. Opening one tired eye, she saw the tired cowboy fall to the

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floor. Doing one-armed pushups, Rowdy began to count, one-one--hundred two- one hundred!

“What in the hell are you doing down there? I thought you were tired.” Puzzled, she waited for an explanation.

“Haven’t you heard of a man doing pushups when he's aroused?” Rowdy sounded out of breath.

“Shit, Rowdy, I’ve never been with a man other than my cheating husband for the last twenty-years. He doesn’t do pushups.” Cheyenne laughed at the thought.

“Sounds to me like his girlfriend gives him everything he needs. What’s her name again? Marla?”

“Don't be silly, it's Tanya. Do you want her number? It’s probably written somewhere in town on a men’s room wall!” Cheyenne pretended to be hurt.

Rowdy laughed at the thought. “Why in the hell would I want her number? I've got you, babe! I’m not letting you go!” Completing a few more pushups, Rowdy returned to bed. Smiling wide and breathing hard, he put his arm around Cheyenne and pulled her close. He was strong, yet gentle. It made Cheyenne feel like a child when he held her. Happy he was there, although she barely knew him, Cheyenne felt comfortable and safe in his

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arms. The bed spun. The alcohol and exhaustion took over again. Struggling to keep her blue eyes open, she threw one leg over Rowdy’s long leg, draping an arm around his middle. Closing her eyes, Cheyenne drifted slowly off to sleep with his face buried in her hair. She felt Rowdy quickly relax and fall into a deep sleep.

The ring of the telephone woke them from a deep sleep a few hours later. Cheyenne answered surprised to hear Kathryn’s voice. “We’re starving. Meet us in the lobby. Are you ready for dinner?”

“Sounds like a great idea. We’re hungry too. We'll be there in thirty minutes. We’ll meet you at Claude’s Bar.” Cheyenne jumped from the bed feeling Rowdy try to pull her back down beside him. “I’m starving. I can’t possibly be seen in public looking like this again! I’m going to my room for a shower. I'll see you downstairs in thirty minutes,” she gently pushed him away. Out the door in an instant, Cheyenne ran down the brightly lit hallway toward the room she shared with Kathryn. She worried. How in the hell do I get the knots out of my pant strings?”

Cheyenne was pleased she'd gone shopping the day before. She wanted to look beautiful for her new man. She loved the expensive black leather Versace pants and the low-cut black velvet Valentino shirt she’d found at Nordstrom. "Thanks Ryan. Your credit card came in real handy." She smiled at her reflection in the mirror.

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A hot shower was what she needed. Testing the water, she stepped inside. Closing her eyes, she felt the water run down her svelte body. She wished Rowdy were there to enjoy it with her. Toweling off, she thought again about Ryan suddenly turning her thoughts to Rowdy. She rushed through her makeup routine. Minutes later she was dressed. Pulling on the new black Gucci stiletto boots, she admired her reflection in the mirror aware she looked pretty good, considering her age. Fluffing her curly, long, red hair one final time, she ran her tongue over her full red lips. Dashing out the door, she sprinted toward the elevator. It had taken her forty-five minutes to get ready. She hoped Rowdy would appreciate her efforts. She was proud she'd been able to pull herself together in such record time.

Her friends were standing together at Claude's Bar engrossed in conversation. “It’s about time you got here. We’re hungry. What took you so long?” Kathryn saw her approach.

“I'm sorry. I had a lot of repair work to do.” Cheyenne smiled.

Rowdy couldn’t take his eyes off her. His heart swelled. He was thrilled knowing she was his date. He saw envy in the eyes of other cowboys standing at the bar. It was obvious Cheyenne only had eyes for him. “Baby, you look fabulous. I'm one lucky cowboy!” Rowdy said with a boyish grin.

“You’re so pretty, Cheyenne. Let’s eat,” Tim piped in.

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Leaving the Nugget, they crossed Fremont Street, entering Binion’s casino, they ran for the elevator. Rapidly reaching the top floor they stepped out of the elevator. They were surprised to see a long line of customers waiting to be seated. Taking Cheyenne by the arm, Rowdy proudly ushered her to the front of the line. Sweet-talking the waiter, with a slow, sexy, southern drawl, Rowdy reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a wrinkled twenty-dollar bill. As he slipped the bill into the open hand of the headwaiter, Cheyenne motioned for Tim and Kathryn to follow them to a table.

“Kathryn, you look pretty this evening.” Cheyenne saw her friend had curled her long blonde hair. She wore a crisp white tailored linen shirt and tight chocolate-brown leather pants with cowboy boots. Tim was in love. He clutched at Kathryn’s hand like he wasn’t going to let go. He’d changed into a bright blue checkered cowboy shirt and dark blue Wrangler jeans. Both cowboys wore very large silver belt buckles. Rowdy looked handsome in a dark green long-sleeved Polo shirt with worn, clean and pressed Wrangler jeans. He wore a pair of brown ostrich leather cowboy boots. Cheyenne thought about how her daddy had dressed for the rodeo. He would have been pleased she was in the company of such well-dressed cowboys. The thought made her smile. Innocently tugging at Rowdy’s shirt collar, she pulled him close for a kiss. Wiping the red lipstick off his lips, she saw he'd enjoyed the kiss, and warm caressing touch.

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Rowdy’s twenty-dollar tip paid off. They were soon seated at a round table in front of a huge window. The city lights shone bright, lighting up the sky as if it were daylight. The expansive panoramic view took her breath away. Cheyenne found the entire scene to be extremely romantic. It was all a magical part of a fantastic day. It had been a day she'd remember forever; a day she didn’t want to end.

The wine steward approached with an extensive wine list. Giving it to Rowdy, he glanced at the first page. “We don't need a wine list. Bring us the most expensive bottle of wine you have in this place!”

Staring blankly in obvious despair, Tim clutched at his throat. He pretended to fall off the chair.

“Wow! He must be loaded!” Kathryn whispered, leaning toward Cheyenne.

Giving Rowdy a swift kick to the shin, Cheyenne took the wine list from him. The confused waiter appeared relieved when he heard her say, “Please, let me order.” Rowdy was unaware the most expensive bottle of wine in the restaurant cost seven hundred dollars.

“I’ve never paid more than eight dollars for a bottle of wine, it couldn’t cost much more could it?” Rowdy looked sheepish. The seven-dollar wine he bought at the liquor store in Woodward, Oklahoma suited him fine. Cheyenne, on the other hand, had enjoyed a variety of fine wine in posh

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restaurants around the world. She was convinced Rowdy didn't have enough cash in his pocket to pay for a bottle of Binion’s most expensive Merlot.

The wine cellar at the beach was full of high priced wine; which she normally only enjoyed on special occasions. “The twenty-dollar bottle of Sebastian’s Merlot will be perfect.” It appeared she knew what she was doing.

“Sound’s good. Shall we split the eight-ounce filet, medium rare?" Rowdy asked with a boyish grin.

She thought it was cheap of him to want to share dinner, but Cheyenne went along with the plan.

“Can we split a baked potato, and Caesar salad?” she asked, shaking her head in agreement.

Although they were starving, they had other things on their mind beside dinner.

“Go for it, Kathryn! The sky’s the limit! Order what you want. Hell, get two! I’m buying. Let’s have mushrooms and asparagus?”

They agreed. Ordering twenty-four-ounce T-bone steaks, salads, mushrooms and asparagus, Kathryn could hardly wait to eat. The large basket of hot freshly baked bread, the waiter placed in front of them was gone in no time. Cheyenne was thankful for the bread; it absorbed the wine

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and seemed to make her headache go away. They hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and she was hungry. The wine went down easy. When the steward walked past the table again, Rowdy ordered a second bottle of the twenty dollar wine.

Attentive and devoted toward one another during dinner, Rowdy and Cheyenne held hands. Their legs entwined, they stared into each other’s eyes. The couple reminded Kathryn of kids in love for the very first time. It was as if they were all alone at the table; oblivious to their surroundings. Kathryn was jealous of the undivided attention Cheyenne got from the handsome cowboy. She watched as he cut small bites of steak and gently put the fork to Cheyenne’s mouth. He’d routinely watch her chew, gently kissing her after each bite. Kathryn had never seen Cheyenne make such a public spectacle. Cheyenne apparently didn’t care. She was glad to be in Las Vegas. Her heart was healing. She seemed very interested in the handsome cowboy sitting by her side.

Cheyenne didn’t understand exactly what her true feelings were for the cowboy. What she did understand, however, was thoughts of Ryan were gone from her mind. She wondered. Is it love or is it lust. Maybe I'm seeking revenge? Whatever it was, she hoped the feelings she had for Rowdy were real. Nothing usually stopped her from getting what she wanted. Tonight she wanted the cowboy, and she intended to enjoy every minute of the lustful Las Vegas evening.

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Dinner was secondary. Anxious to be alone, they had other things on their mind. They quietly plotted how to exit the restaurant, without everyone knowing, what they were thinking.

Rowdy was an eager participant in the game of passion she played. He was in lust with the stranger. Cheyenne was a sexy, gorgeous woman. He shamelessly desired her. Flirting and tantalizing each other during dinner, it was all Rowdy could do to keep from falling to the floor and resuming pushups. He didn’t intend to waste his energy on pushups -- he was going to make love to Cheyenne. The cowboy was prepared to take the interesting socialite to the moon!

Unabashedly flirting all through dinner, Ryan briefly entered Cheyenne’s mind. She thought. Screw you Ryan Stevens--if you can do it, I can too! What's good for the goose is good for the gander!

Without delay, the quickly polished off two bottles of twenty-dollar Merlot, Kathryn and Tim enjoyed their dinner. Rowdy and Cheyenne continued to sexually arouse each other, with talk and action. When he could take it no longer, Rowdy pulled Cheyenne up from the dinner table.

“We’re out of here! Catch you guys later!” Rowdy’s voice seemed strained as he looked at them with a sideways glance.

Smiling broadly, Kathryn thought. Go for it, girlfriend! This is exactly what you need!

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“No problem! We’ll see you later! You guys have fun!” She smiled, happy to see Cheyenne was having a good time.

Bolting from the dinner table, they hastily made their way through the restaurant and onto the elevator. Reaching the ground floor, they walked swiftly, and purposely, onto Fremont Street. They ran together across the street into the Golden Nugget, awkwardly dodging cowboys and drunken rodeo fans along the way. They didn’t stop at Claude’s Bar. They moved directly toward the waiting elevator. The excited couple hurried hand-in- hand down the hallway toward Rowdy’s room. Fumbling in his pant pocket for the key, when they reached the room, he unlocked the door and pushed it open. Kissing her passionately, Rowdy picked her up and carried her inside, kicking the door closed behind them. Gently placing her on the bed, he slowly and deliberately unzipped the tight black leather pants with one hand, while removing a sleek stiletto boot with the other. Out for revenge, Cheyenne didn’t protest. Placing both hands on his big silver buckle, she struggled to unfasten his belt.

With Rowdy's frustrated help, the Wranglers soon came down. Wild passionate thoughts swirled through her head, mixed with thoughts of Ryan making love to Tanya. She wondered if Ryan had felt this excited the first time he'd screwed the whore. Feeling the red silk teddy slip down over her body, she thought. This one’s for you, Ryan, you cheating son of a bitch!

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The love struck cowboy made it difficult for her to think about anything except satisfying the need swelling up inside her. Wiping the thoughts of her cheating husband from her mind, Cheyenne was lost in a world she'd never before known. The lovemaking was phenomenal. It was sweet, yet passionate and very satisfying. Cheyenne was convinced it was absolutely the best sex she'd ever had.

She’d never reached the level of sexual satisfaction with Ryan she'd experienced with Rowdy. She loved how he sometimes took it fast, and then took it slow. She cherished every minute. Her body quivered, shuddering in sheer delight. She didn’t have a care in the world as their lovemaking went on forever. Satisfying each other over and over again; it was like a marathon. Once wasn’t enough. They wanted more, not wanting the night to end; happily engulfed in a world they both desired. She needed him and he needed her even more. The lovemaking secured a bond between them. What a night it was! Sex with Rowdy gave Cheyenne a brand new attitude. Afterwards, she'd felt like a new woman feeling satisfied, yet wanting more. There was no comparison to how she'd felt with Ryan. She resented having allowed him into her bed in recent months, especially knowing he'd been sleeping with her and Tanya at the same time. She despised him for the deception.

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The events of the day convinced her Rowdy was the man for her. Spending time with him would help her get over Ryan. Determined the affair end in Las Vegas, Cheyenne was going to Freedom. Nothing would stop her.

Both realizing Rowdy would soon be returning to Oklahoma, they clung to each other, neither wanting to let go. Around midnight, they heard Tim bang on the hotel room door. “Rowdy, get your damn pants on! We need to get to the airport. We’ll miss our flight. I’ll meet you in the lobby in ten minutes!”

“I'll be right there!” Jumping from the bed, Rowdy ran for the shower. Within minutes he returned. Pulling on his Wranglers, he sat down next to her on the bed to put on his cowboy boots. He pleaded, “Ride with me to the airport in the casino limo. They’ll bring you back. I can’t bear to let you go.” Weary, yet willing, Cheyenne stumbled from the bed. Taking a fast shower, she rushed to get dressed. Slipping on the black leather pants, and throwing on her shirt, she pulled on her boots. Running long fingers through her damp, limp hair, she took Rowdy by the hand. They ran for the elevator.

Meeting Kathryn and Tim in the lobby, they hurried toward the waiting limo. Cheyenne believed the ride with Rowdy to the airport would be a fitting end to a most perfect day. She'd had a great time, but she was exhausted, and rather relieved he was leaving. She was tired and looked forward to a good night’s sleep. Staring out the car window, she sadly wondered if she'd ever see him again. As if he knew what she was thinking,

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Rowdy smiled. He squeezed her hand, reassuring her they had only just begun. They were both determined the affair end in Las Vegas.

The limo stopped in front of the Southwest Airlines terminal, and the cowboys reluctantly got out. As they drove away, Cheyenne waved.

"Good-bye cowboy. Thank you for everything! It’s been quite a ride!” Cheyenne frowned feeling sad to see him go.

Rowdy hollered loud hoping she’d hear, “Good bye, beautiful. I'll see you soon!”

Cheyenne's life was in shambles, Ryan was gone and Rowdy was leaving. She wanted desperately to go with him. She wished she could spend the rest of her life with the friendly cowboy. She prayed her wish would come true. They watched the men disappear into the airport terminal. Within moments the cowboys were gone. The women sat quietly together in the limo, looking as if their world had just slipped away.

Pulling away from the airport, the limo driver slowly made his way back to the Nugget. As they entered the ramp on Interstate 15 North, Cheyenne and Kathryn suddenly broke into hysterical laughter. They couldn’t stop laughing. The time they spent with the Oklahoma cowboys was an unbelievable experience. Kathryn was hesitant to share what had gone on between her and Tim. Being a good friend, Cheyenne respected her privacy.

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However, she was dying to tell Kathryn everything. She thought. It's been way too much fun not to share it all with my best friend!

"Can you believe it? I got laid! It was the best damned sex I’ve ever had! We did it thirteen times. Thirteen times! It was unbelievable!” Cheyenne felt breathless; her heart pounded in her chest.

“Okay--so you got laid, it’s over now. What in the hell are you going to do with a cowboy? I’m happy for you, but let’s get real. It was a one-night stand. You’ll never hear from him again. Okay, so chalk it up to a great experience and let it be! Remember, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas! I say bull shit to the thirteen times!” Kathryn was exhausted. She'd put up with Cheyenne's emotions for a week, it was time to go home.

Cheyenne sighed, “Believe me, Kathryn I don't think it's over. I’ll hear from him again. I could fall in love with the red-headed cowboy, just like that!” She snapped her fingers.

When they reached the Golden Nugget the worn out women were grateful for the handsome porter who opened the limo door. He gave them a come-hither stare. “Can I buy you gals a drink when I get off work? It looks like you know how to have fun!”

Cheyenne shook her head. “Thanks, but no thanks! I’ve had enough alcohol today to last me a lifetime. No more drinks for me; maybe next time!” Kathryn stepped to the side allowing Cheyenne to enter the casino

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ahead of her. Both women were highly wound up. Although they were tired, they feared they wouldn’t be able to sleep.

Entering the hotel room, Kathryn bolted the door behind them. Rushing to turn on the shower, she cried out, “I want to wash the sins away!”

“I’m not washing his smell off. I'm sleeping with my sin. I want to remember Rowdy forever!” Picking up a bottle of Excedrin PM from the dresser, Cheyenne poured out a handful, “I’m taking a sleeping pill, how about you?”

Poking her head out of the shower, Kathryn nodded, “I’ll take two!” Cheyenne swallowed two pills before falling into bed. She was dozing when she heard Kathryn come out of the bathroom fumbling around in the pitch- black, dark room.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Looking for my pills; I can't find anything in the dark.” Kathryn was tired and cranky.

“They're on the nightstand, next to the lamp. Turn on the light.” Rolling over, she was anxious to go to sleep and dream of Rowdy. Thoughts swirled in her head as she drifted off. What a day this has been!

Kathryn was happy the day was over. “Good night old friend sleep tight. I'll see you in the morning! Tomorrow’s another day. I can’t wait. We sure

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know how to have a good time!” she giggled. She heard Cheyenne's soft snore.

Kathryn turned out the lights thinking about the time she'd spent with Tim. They had fun, but she didn’t care if she ever saw him again.

The telephone rang jarring them from a deep sleep, Cheyenne cursed.” Who in the hell would be calling at this hour? Kathryn knocked the lamp over struggling to answer the phone, “Hello.” Cheyenne was suddenly wide awake, listening to the one-sided conversation.

“You what, you missed your flight?” Kathryn was in shock. She gave the telephone to Cheyenne. It was Rowdy. He was calling from a courtesy phone in the lobby.

“Baby, I couldn’t leave without you. Get dressed I’m taking you back to Freedom with me,” he joked.

Cheyenne was sleepy, and irritable. “Damn it, Rowdy, what are you saying? Did you really miss your flight?”

“They canceled the flight. We’re downstairs. Come on down. We'll buy you breakfast!” The phone went dead leaving Cheyenne to wonder whether to be thankful or angry. She asked, “Do you want to go to breakfast? The cowboys are downstairs in the coffee shop. They want to buy us breakfast.”

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With all the strength she could muster, Kathryn jumped out of bed. “Sure, let’s go, girlfriend! I never turn down a free meal! Its' three o’clock in the morning it doesn’t much matter what we look like. I'm hungry. I feel like I have a hangover. I guess I shouldn’t have taken two Excedrin PMs.”

Within minutes, the tired women entered the casino coffee shop. Cheyenne could feel the effect of the sleeping pills. She'd had a lot to drink during day, and the sexual marathon with Rowdy was arduous. However, she was excited knowing she was about to see him again. Kathryn didn’t seem as thrilled about seeing Tim, but being her normal caring self, she'd agreed to go along for support.

Rowdy smiled as the women approached the table. "It's great to see you again! I couldn't figure out how I would live my life without you!" The men had ordered coffee, instead of their usual Bud Lights; and tall glasses of ice water for the girls. Cheyenne felt a great thirst. Drinking the water down in a hurry, she asked the waiter for another glass. They were the only customers in the coffee shop, except for one large table filled with drunken cowboys, who persistently tried to carry on a conversation.

“Where in the hell did you two ugly bastards find such beautiful women?”

“It’s a long story, boys, you would have had to have been there.” Tim grinned.

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Seeing the drunks finish their meal and stagger away. Cheyenne was glad to see them go before she told them what to do with it. She was tired and feeling a little cranky; and she wasn’t ready for Rowdy to see that side.

They ordered bacon, eggs, biscuits and gravy, and extra slices of wheat toast. Cheyenne and Kathryn asked for milk; and Rowdy said he’d like more coffee.

“Is there anything else? Can I bring you some jelly?” the waiter asked placing their food in front of them.

“Yes please. Make mine KY!” Cheyenne looked up at him with bloodshot eyes.

“Make mine strawberry,” Kathryn roared.

“I’ll be right back with your jelly,” the waiter, and walked away.

“What in the hell is KY?” the cowboys asked in unison.

"Come on boys. You've been around a while. You must know KY is a lubricant,” Kathryn explained.

Paying no mind to what was being discussed at the table, Cheyenne thought. Seriously, KY is in order! Strawberry will have to do but black berry is really my favorite. She wolfed down her breakfast like she hadn’t eaten for weeks. Kathryn was grateful to see her friend finally had an

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appetite. The waiter returned with a bucket of jelly, chuckling as if he finally got the joke. Everyone ate like they were starving.

"I guess you girls know we gave up our rooms when we checked out earlier. Can I catch a nap in your room Cheyenne?" Rowdy asked seriously.

“I don’t trust you cowboy!” Cheyenne hoped he was joking. Struggling to keep her eyes open, she was tired and full.

“What say lady luck, lets' go play a little blackjack?” Tim looked lustfully toward Kathryn.

“Sure if you’re not ashamed to be seen with me. I look like crap! Hell so does everyone else at this time of the morning. Let’s go win some more money!” Kathryn laughed. Saying good-bye, they walked away, leaving Cheyenne and Rowdy, alone in the restaurant.

“Blackjack, it’s the last thing I want to do. I've had my fill of gambling. As a matter of fact, I’m broke. I have twenty dollars left in my wallet. This place hasn’t been very good to me. It was all worth it though. I met you! It's a good thing!” Rowdy smiled through squinty eyes.

Cheyenne was too tired to respond. She nodded her head in agreement.

“Baby, take me upstairs. I need to sleep a while before I catch the plane,” Rowdy finished his fifth cup of coffee. His eyes were heavy.

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“Good idea! I'm having a hard time keeping my eyes open.” She looked at him through half closed eyes. Pushing away from the table, they walked arm in arm slowly toward the elevator.

Entering her hotel room, they fell fully clothed, and exhausted, onto the bed. In minutes their clothes were off. They covered each other with passionate kisses.

“Geez-us, I thought you wanted to sleep!” Pulling him close, she smiled.

“Later baby, we’ll sleep later! I want some more of you, before I have to go back to reality,” Rowdy squeezed her gently.

Cheyenne didn’t turn him down. She intended to give him anything he wanted. It was the best sex she’d ever had. It was another several hours of Heaven. They were exhausted when the phone rang at six a.m.

“Rowdy, let’s get going. We need to leave here by seven. I can’t miss the plane again or my old lady will kill me,” Tim felt like a sinner.

“I agree! I’ll meet you in the lobby in thirty minutes,” Rowdy kissed Cheyenne on the backside. Springing from the bed like a man much younger than his age, he saw a roll of condoms sitting on the hotel dresser. Reaching for them, they accidently spilled onto the floor.

“What the hell are these doing here?” he laughed.

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“Kathryn bought them. We should have been using them. I wouldn’t want to get pregnant,” Cheyenne worried.

“I can’t get you pregnant. I had a vasectomy a few years back,” Rowdy walked into the bathroom. He turned on the shower.

Cheyenne closed her eyes. Hearing him sing in the shower made her smile. She’d miss him, but she was ready for him to go. She was exhausted and desperately needed sleep. When Rowdy walk back into the room with a towel wrapped around his middle, she saw him reach for a condom.

“No more sex! It’s a little late for that. You’ve got to get to the airport!” She held her forehead with one hand.

Laughing out loud, he opened the condom and returned to the bathroom. In seconds he was back with a half-filled water glass. She watched from the bed as he stretched out the condom and poured in a few drops of water.

“Where’s Kathryn’s shoes?” he asked with a boyish grin.

Pointing toward a pair of black boots, Cheyenne laughed seeing him stuff the water filled condom down deep into the toe of Kathryn's boot. Looking like the prankster he was, Rowdy returned the boot to its former position in the corner. Cheyenne couldn’t believe anyone would do such a thing.

“Damn, it’s hard to leave you girl!” Rowdy pulled on his Wranglers and buttoned his shirt.

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“Kathryn's going to kill you when she finds the mess in her boot. You’re a character. You sure do know how to have a good time. It's been so much fun Rowdy. I wish you didn't have to go. Are you sure your flight leaves this morning?” She would miss him.

Saying good-bye was difficult. Cheyenne gave him her telephone number and wondered if he’d call. Suddenly Rowdy was gone. Leaving the room, he sprinted toward the elevator to meet Tim in the lobby. They expected to be in Oklahoma City by noon. Rowdy promised to call when they landed.

Cheyenne suddenly realized she didn’t have his phone number. Struggling to remember his last name, it bothered her knowing she had no control. She worried she may never hear from the cowboy again. She knew he was from a place in Oklahoma, he called Freedom. He had an ex-wife and two kids. He lived on a ranch with his elderly parents, and in his younger years he'd ridden bulls. That’s all she knew. She wanted to know more.

“Dear Jesus, what have I done? Please let him call! Amen!” Cheyenne prayed, closing her eyes.

Seconds later she heard a light knock at the door. Jumping from the bed, she ran to the door hoping Rowdy was returning with his phone number.

"Who is it?" she asked.

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“It's Kathryn. Let me in!” Her voice was hoarse.

When Kathryn walked into the room the women began to laugh and talk feverishly about their respective Vegas experiences. Neither understanding nor believing what they had gone through.

“Pinch me! Pinch me! We’ll go to sleep and when we wake up, we’ll know it was a dream! Who would believe us? We sure know how to attract trouble!” Kathryn was excited and happy that her friend had met a cowboy.

Bantering back and forth for several minutes, the women happily relived the events of the last twenty-four hours.

Despite the craziness, they agreed they had the time of their lives.

“Thanks to Tim, I'm rich. I’ll buy breakfast!” Kathryn waved several hundred dollar bills in the air. Walking into the bathroom, she turned on the shower. Sitting patiently on the bed, Cheyenne waited for her turn in the bathroom.

“Let’s eat at the buffet, I’m starving!” Kathryn yelled from the shower.

“Sure, I have time for breakfast. My flight doesn’t leave until late this afternoon,” Cheyenne agreed. She wasn’t looking forward to going home. Meeting the Freedom cowboy had changed her attitude.

Cheyenne packed her suitcase and laid out her clothes for the day.

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“It’s all yours,” Kathryn walked into the room wearing only her underwear. She had a towel wrapped around her hair, and looked beautiful despite no makeup.

Rushing into the bathroom, it didn't take Cheyenne long to shower and dress. She was ready long before Kathryn had finished putting on her makeup. Prodding her friend to hurry, Cheyenne sat on the edge of the bed nervously tapping her foot on the floor. She tried to keep from laughing. Smirking, she saw Kathryn pick up a black boots knowing she’d have a screaming fit when she found out what was inside. Cheyenne covered her mouth to hide a smile. She saw Kathryn slip a foot into one boot, and then the other. Pulling on the second boot, Kathryn’s face turned white.

“Cheyenne! There's a used condom in my boot! I’m going to kill you!” she screamed, swiftly yanking her foot out. She stumbled and fell to the floor.

Cheyenne laughed so hard she feared she’d wet her pants.

“Relax Kathryn! Rowdy’s a joker. He thought it would be funny. The rubber wasn’t used. It’s full of water. He wanted you to think it was used. He’s crazy,” Cheyenne held her side and roared.

The last twenty-four hours were crazy, they lived through it. They doubted anyone would believe what had gone on.

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“You would have to have been here,” Kathryn smiled. Cheyenne agreed.

The tired Freedom cowboys were on their way back to Oklahoma. Kathryn was returning to her ranch in Cave Creek, Arizona; and Cheyenne was flying back to Seattle to deal with the divorce.

She wasn’t looking forward to facing Ryan so soon. She knew she'd have to sooner or later. The divorce wasn’t going to be easy. The weekend with Rowdy filled her with confidence. Leaving Las Vegas after having such a fantastic time, she felt like she could handle whatever was ahead.

When they finished with breakfast, it was time to say good-bye.

“I love you, Cheyenne! When are you coming back to Paradise Valley?” Kathryn asked.

“Soon I hope. I hate being stuck on the island in the winter. I’ll let you know soon.”

Walking Kathryn to the cab, Cheyenne waved good-bye, feeling sad to see her friend drive away. Walking back into the casino, she sat down at the same blackjack table she’d shared with Rowdy the day before. She listlessly placed a bet, wishing he were there by her side. Thinking about him made her blush. She smiled, feeling confident and renewed. Cheyenne’s life had dramatically changed. She knew what happened in Las Vegas wasn’t going to end there.

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She'd met a stranger who'd nurtured her soul. She prayed their relationship would be strong enough to endure. She believed anything was possible when you were in love. She thought. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas isn’t necessarily true.

Boarding her flight later in the afternoon, Cheyenne relaxed feeling the jet lift into the sky. The plane slowly circled above Las Vegas, and drifted north, leaving the bright lights and memories behind. She sensed his smell, and the way he’d held her. Thoughts of the Oklahoma cowboy danced through her mind. Closing her eyes, she saw his smiling face. She missed him. She hoped she’d seen him again.

She considered herself lucky to have such great friends. Cheyenne believed with their support, she'd survive the upcoming divorce. It would be difficult, but she was a fighter. She sometimes enjoyed a good fight. The Vegas trip helped her begin to move forward from her previous life with Ryan. Time would heal everything! She was excited about the prospects of a different and exciting future. Cheyenne was ready to take on whatever came her way. Glancing out the airplane window, she prayed. Bring it on, God! I'm ready! Ryan won't know what hit him. I'll take the cheating bastard to the cleaners!

The Las Vegas trip convinced her wishes do come true. She was ready to begin a new chapter of her life. The divorce would be war. She’d have no

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time for regret or sorrow. She suddenly remembered one of her mother's favorite sayings. You can't keep a good woman down for long!

During the flight Cheyenne mentally prepared herself for whatever the future held. When the plane landed in Seattle, three hours later, she believed she could handle anything. She felt poised and ready to move forward; excited about the possibilities of new beginnings.

Her patience was tried when she returned to the beach house. It had been vandalized. Glancing around the living room she saw many items were missing. The house was ransacked. Seeing her neighbor run down the long driveway toward the house, she dialed the police.

“I’m so glad you're home! I didn’t know how to get in touch with you! Did you have a good time? Ryan was here with a truck and trailer for hours yesterday. He took the old Ford Galaxy, and he even took your Gator! He cleaned out the playroom. I hate to be the one to tell you this, but there was a homely blonde woman with him.” Katie was out of breath. She stood waiting for Cheyenne’s response.

Katie was the neighborhood gossip. Cheyenne was always careful what information she shared with her. She didn’t want Katie to see she was visibly shaken.

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“Thanks for the information. I’ll handle it from here! By the way, did you tell Ryan I'd gone to Las Vegas?” Seeing the look on Katie’s face, she knew the answer.

Cheyenne walked into the beach house. Glancing back, she shut the door. She saw Katie retreat down the driveway, looking confused and disappointed. Cheyenne hadn’t told her anything about the trip to Las Vegas. She was a private woman. The last thing she needed was to involve Katie in her personal affairs, especially the divorce.

Looking sadly around the familiar surroundings, she saw family photos were destroyed. Someone had ripped Ryan's face, from what was once a picture of them, enjoying a drink on a beach in Mexico. All remaining in the frame was a younger image of her. Remembering the day the photo was taken, she thought. We were much happier then. The photo was taken long before their life became so complicated. Someone had spat on the picture of her taken in Rome. Several family photographs, she'd left arranged on the baby grand piano, were missing.

The once beautiful, immaculate home was in total disarray. Kitchen drawers were pulled out. Crystal items were missing from the glass shelves behind the bar. The Christmas tree was dry; its fallen needles covered the floor. The unopened presents under the tree, reminded her Christmas was just ten days away. She hadn’t mailed anything off to her daughters. Surely they would understand why their presents were late. She had major

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situations to deal with; there was no time for Christmas. Cursing Ryan under her breath for leaving, she doubted she'd ever celebrate the holiday again.

Ryan's breaking into her home left her feeling overwhelmed, and violated. He'd already taken his clothes and personal things, why did he feel the need to further disrupt her life? Sensing his new girlfriend had much to do with it, she thought. The bitch doesn't want my husband, she wants my lifestyle.

Cheyenne was angry and hurt. The divorce war was on. She didn’t intend to go down without a fight. If Ryan wanted a battle, he’d get one.

The police arrived within the hour. She gave them a detailed report of what was missing, destroyed or damaged. She told them her neighbor had seen Ryan and Tanya move things out of the house the day before. Katie was her witness. The police suggested she change the locks. She assured them she would the first thing the next day. When their investigation was complete, she escorted the detectives to the patrol car. Waving good-bye, feeling alone and destroyed, she watched them back out the long driveway.

She saw snow began to fall, and she was chilled by a gust of wind from the north. Cheyenne ran toward the beach house. Once inside, she wrapped up in a large lamb’s wool afghan she'd bought a few months earlier in New Zealand. Sitting down in the recliner in front of the gas fireplace, the house

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felt warm and cozy. Despite the warmth, Cheyenne felt cold. Taking the cell phone from her pocket, she called Barry Karras, her Greek attorney friend

Cheyenne was working as his legal assistant when she first met Ryan. They were close friends. He was like an older brother to her. She could count on him for anything. They met when Barry was fresh out of law school. Cheyenne helped him establish a successful law practice. He had an excellent reputation as a divorce attorney. She’d be in good hands, if she could convince him to take her case. Barry had paid his way through law school by mastering the game of pool. Cheyenne admired his winning ways, both on the billiards table, and in the courtroom.

Barry answered on the second ring.

“Cheyenne! I was just thinking about you. How was the Christmas party? Sorry I couldn’t make it this year. Are you ready for Christmas? What’s going on, kid?” he asked in his usual caring manner.

Pausing for a moment, Cheyenne took a deep breath, giving great thought to what she was about to say.

“Hello, Barry. You should have been there, it was a nice party. I’m definitely not ready for Christmas. Ryan’s gone. He wants a divorce. I’ll need the biggest gun in the state to handle my case. Who do you recommend? Give me the phone number of the very best divorce lawyer you know,” she sobbed.

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“What the hell are you saying? You’ve got to be kidding me. Has Ryan lost his ever-loving mind? Jesus, Cheyenne, its Christmas for God’s sake. Are you doing okay? Do you want me to drive out to the beach?” he asked in a rage.

“Yeah--some Christmas present huh. He says there’s a new woman. He wants the divorce over with as soon as possible,” she answered unable to control the tears.

“Cheyenne, I'll handle your divorce. I’ll be there for you all the way. Start by gathering all of your financial information. Take the money out of your joint accounts. Hide it before Ryan gets his hands on it. I shouldn’t have to tell you what to do, but I’m the attorney and you’re the client. You need to listen. You’re a smart woman. Do your research. Get your hands on the corporate books and records. We'll audit all five car dealerships. We should get started immediately. You can help prepare the docs. Pay me whatever fee you think is fair, together with my costs of course. I'll file a motion asking the court to require the idiot to return everything he took from the house. We'll get a restraining order to prevent him, and the bitch, from coming anywhere near you. I’m afraid it will be a messy one. Are you ready for the fight?" Barry asked, concerned for his good friend.

Cheyenne overheard his wife, Samantha in the background encouraging him to invite her over.

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“Tell Sam thanks for the invite, Barry. I’d rather not. You remember my friend Jennifer? She's coming to stay for a week. She's asked me to go skiing with her at Whistler on Christmas Day. I'm not sure I feel like it. I want to work on the divorce.” Cheyenne was happy he’d agreed to help her with the case. Hanging up the phone, she sensed she was in good hands. Barry was one of the finest attorneys in the State. If anyone would look after her best interests, it was Barry.

The divorce consumed her every waking moment, over the next several days. She spent hours going over the books and records at the various car dealerships, despite Ryan’s protests. When she found discrepancies she’d make photocopies of anything questionable; adding each discovery to the bulging evidence file. Barry took great delight with each discovery, continuing to claim he'd fight hard on her behalf.

Divorce was Barry’s specialty. He was feared, in the courtroom, amongst his peers. In the very beginning Ryan had called the shots. With Barry on her side, Cheyenne felt in control of her own destiny.

Christmas day came and went. Cheyenne survived, though it was the most miserable day of her life. Her friend Jennifer unselfishly agreed to spend the holiday with her. After dinner, they relaxed in the hot tub on the large snow covered deck.

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“Damn it, Cheyenne say you’ll go skiing with me. Whistler is great this time of the year. A friend gave me the keys to his condo. Everything’s on me. We'll have a great time. Please come with me!” Jennifer was persistent.

"Let's talk about it tomorrow. It sounds like fun, but it seems so impossible,” Cheyenne looked toward the stars, and wept.

The next morning they sat together in the large kitchen, enjoying a cup of hot coffee. “I've got too much to do. I want to file the divorce before Ryan beats me to the punch. I'd rather be the petitioner than the respondent. You’ll have to go to Whistler without me. Have fun! Call me when you get there. By the way, give me the name of your plastic surgeon I’m ready for a minor overhaul.” Cheyenne was in a better mood. She’d almost changed her mind about going, but there were too many things on her plate. Thoughts of the pending divorce would ruin any chance of having fun in Canada.

“Call him. He’s the best there is. I absolutely love my new boobs,” Jennifer laughed as she scribbled down Dr. Anderson’s phone number.

Hugging Cheyenne one more time, Jennifer picked up her suitcase and walked outside toward her Mercedes. Honking the horn, she waved good- bye, and drove through the gates of the compound. She hated leaving her friend behind to face the misery alone. Cheyenne saw the big metal gates close, and immediately regretted she hadn’t gone along. Whistler was

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beautiful this time of the year. Cheyenne liked to ski, but it was too late to change her mind. Jennifer was gone.

Returning inside alone, the solitude was almost more than she could bear. Cheyenne was tempted to crawl into bed and pull the covers up over her head. Instead, she went to work. Opening a box of company records, she spread the files out on the kitchen counter. Pouring another cup of coffee, she rolled up her sleeves, and picked up a file marked Ryan Stevens Cash Advances.

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CHAPTER THREE

It was dark and cold that December morning in 1996. Samish Island was quiet and peaceful; except for the wind whistling down from the north. The shrill telephone ring jarred Cheyenne out of a deep sleep. Having recently received threatening calls from Ryan’s girlfriend, she feared it was Tanya calling again. Wondering what time it was, she assumed it was the middle of the night. She fumbled around in the dark, frantically trying to find the telephone. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, she saw it was four o’clock in the morning. Early phone calls rarely brought good news. She answered, “Hello.”

Rowdy sounded like he was at the other end of the world. Cheyenne was suddenly awake and alert, realizing who was on the line. She had been afraid the Vegas affair had been a one-night stand. She imagined Rowdy would forget all about her when he returned to Oklahoma.

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“Cowboy, is it really you, Why are you calling so early? Its four o’clock in the morning.” Cheyenne sounded sleepy and confused.

“Maybe you should move to New York City.”

Recognizing the sexy sounding southern drawl, Cheyenne asked, “Why New York City?”

“Because it’s seven o’clock in the morning there!” Rowdy laughed.

Cheyenne thought. He’s crazy! This guy is nuts!

He made her laugh. Hearing his voice made it seem like he was there in the room with her. She enjoyed his southern drawl and slow unfamiliar way with words. Rowdy explained how his trip back home had been a long one.

“We stopped at every quick stop on the drive from Oklahoma City to Freedom. I swear every ounce of fluid in my body was gone. I never drank so much water. You drained me baby, and I loved every minute of it.”

“I wondered if you would call. You didn’t leave me your phone number. I had no idea how to get in touch with you.” Cheyenne smiled remembering his crazy personality and the fun they had.

“You knew damned well I would. It’s crazy, but I think I’m in love you. I can’t get you out of my damned mind. Check your caller ID. You’ve got my number, baby.” He was thrilled to hear her voice again.

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There was an unquestionable connection between them. Cheyenne felt aroused and alive just hearing him speak.

"I considered counseling to help me get through the divorce. As long as I know I have you I’ll save my money.” The feelings she had for the Oklahoma cowboy both excited, and frightened her; having Rowdy in her life, made Cheyenne feel twenty years younger.

“What do you think about coming to Freedom for New Year's?” Rowdy crossed his fingers, hoping she’d agree to come visit him on the ranch.

“Thanks for the invitation. I'd love to! I'll let you know later today if I can get reservations on such a short notice. I would like to get away from here for a while. All I've done since I got home is worry, and work on the divorce.”

She clung to his every word, not wanting to hang up the phone. Rowdy was encouraging and supportive as they talked for over an hour.

“I’ll call you later tonight. I can’t wait to see you again.” Rowdy didn’t want to let her go.

“Thanks again for the invite! I’ll talk to you soon!” As soon as she hung up the phone, she dialed Southwest Airlines and booked a flight to Freedom.

Wild thoughts danced through her mind as she made the reservation. She couldn’t wait to see him again. Rowdy was a part of her life now, he was the

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man for her. She thought. It will be much easier to go through the divorce with a supportive man in my life. Thank you God!

Days went by slowly. Cheyenne was grateful Jennifer agreed to spend Christmas Eve with her. The women sat for hours in the hot tub watching the northern lights and shooting stars, move across the clear sky. It was freezing cold outside and snow covered the ground. The hot tub was warm and comforting. They drank wine and stayed up half the night discussing how their respective lives had turned out.

“I'd never imagined I would be going through divorce. I believed Ryan and I would be married forever.” Cheyenne’s heart was broken. She wondered if she would ever recover.

“Forget about Ryan. He's a loser. You can do much better. I’m not sure about this Rowdy character though. He’s not your type. Are you really willing to give all of this up for a cowboy?” Jennifer looked around at their lovely surroundings, concerned her friend was being too impulsive.

“I’ll find out soon. He’s invited me to come to Freedom for New Year’s.” The look she saw on Jennifer's face surprised her. It was obvious her friend wasn't pleased she’d fallen for the cowboy.

As she packed her bags, she worried what her daughters would say when they found out she was going to Freedom. They called several times during Christmas week giving her support, and advice.

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Cheyenne knew what she was doing. She'd figured it all out. She was running away, going to Freedom to escape the heartache of her failed marriage. If Ryan knew he would try to stop her. He'd tell her to slow down and think things through. To hell with him! Where is he now? Why should she be concerned about what he thought? It was over between them. Like it or not. Rowdy had offered her a ticket to Freedom, and she was going to take it! There was no stopping her.

Many years before, she was in love with a good-looking steer wrestler. She hadn’t taken him or the affair seriously. When the rodeo season ended in that summer, so did their relationship. Her mother’s advice back then made sense. “Why chase a cowboy? It's like chasing the wind. When you catch him, you won’t know what to do with him!” Cheyenne smiled remembering the look on her mother’s face when she’d said it.

Rowdy was in a panic at the ranch. He worried that he only had a few days to ready the bunkhouse for Cheyenne’s visit. The place was, as usual, a stinking mess. His son Shane’s show pigs rooted in the front yard. The kitchen sink was full of dirty dishes. He hadn’t been able to get the sink to drain. The paint peeled off the walls in the moldy bathroom, and the old refrigerator needed a thorough cleaning.

It was unusual for Shane to be excited about having a woman in the house, but he was. He was full of questions, making Rowdy even more nervous. Rowdy was nervous about introducing Cheyenne to his world. He

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was sure she'd run away the minute she saw how he lived. His thoughts drove him crazy. “It isn’t much, but it’s all I've got. What have I got to lose? She’ll either accept me for who I am, or she won't.”

Feeling embarrassed about his surroundings, Rowdy sensed Cheyenne came from a better place. He feared she might not accept or understand. He was a good ole country boy; raising his twelve-year-old son while living on his parents’ farm. He intended to live there until Shane finished high school. He saw his daughter Sally during the summer and on holidays. It wasn’t a good situation. He thought. How can I expect Cheyenne to like it here? I can’t stand it. He’d wished it were different, but he wasn’t able to figure out how to change things.

He didn’t understand how a woman like Cheyenne could be attracted to him. They were as different as night and day and it confused him. Why did he feel such a strong attraction to her? Could it be love? Rowdy didn’t have the answer. Despite their apparent differences, he couldn’t wait to see her again. He looked forward to holding her in his arms.

It was the middle of winter in Freedom, and a very cold December. Rowdy hoped Cheyenne would be comfortable there. He'd warned her to bring warm clothes. There were no restaurants open in Freedom during the holidays. He wondered what he’d feed her. He prayed Shane, and his parents, would approve. “It’s silly of me to worry. If it works out it will be great. If it doesn’t, I’ll have to live with the consequences.” Once he’d made

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the decision to invite Cheyenne to Freedom; Rowdy intended to enjoy her company, and show her a good time.

Two days later, waiting anxiously at the Will Rogers World Airport in Oklahoma City, Rowdy drank several beers in the airport bar, hoping to calm his nerves.

Cheyenne was apprehensive about seeing him again. Their short time together in Las Vegas was such a whirlwind, she hoped to enjoy being with him again in Freedom.

She was the first passenger off the airplane. She grinned when she saw the red-headed cowboy, wearing a big black hat wait for her at the end of the gate. Their eyes met, and when he smiled, her knees weakened and her heart melted.

“It’s good to see you again. Welcome to Oklahoma!”

“I’ve missed you, cowboy!”

Holding each other in a warm embrace, they shared a kiss, and walked toward the escalator going down toward the baggage department.

They heard Rowdy's name announced over the airport’s paging system. Rowdy Harrison, please meet your party in baggage. He said, “I have no idea who would be paging me.”

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Cheyenne saw Tim standing at the bottom of the stairs alongside a tall, dark-haired, woman. He was waving wildly, with a huge smile on his face. After giving Cheyenne a big, wet kiss, and a hug, he introduced her to the woman. “Cheyenne, this is my friend Pat. She works at the bar in Freedom. Rowdy was so nervous about your coming, we thought he needed our support! Welcome to Oklahoma!” Tim was fond of Cheyenne from the moment they met in Las Vegas. He was jealous that his friend had ended up with her.

Rowdy picked up Cheyenne’s heavy bags and they walked outside together moving toward the parking garage.

“I've made dinner reservations at the Kona Steak House. Do you guys want to join us?” Tim asked.

“That sounds good! Is it okay with you Cheyenne?” Rowdy was happy Tim was there. His friend’s unexpected presence, and the beers he’d drank, helped him to relax.

“We've both known Pat forever. I had no idea they were going to meet us here. I really wanted to be alone with you! We’ll go for a quick dinner, and get out of there early! I can’t wait to have you all to myself!” Rowdy gave her a long lingering look, happy she was there. Putting his arm around her shoulders, he pulled her close for another kiss. Driving away from the Will Rogers Airport, they arrived at the steak house minutes later.

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Celebrating Cheyenne’s visit to Oklahoma City, they enjoyed a steak dinner and several cocktails.

“I’ve been here a couple of times before. My daughter Mary Louise lived here for a few years. My grandson Justin was born in Norman,” Cheyenne felt comfortable sharing life stories, with her new friends.

As in Las Vegas, they couldn't keep their hands off each other. Tim knew they wouldn’t be at the restaurant for long. They were anxious to be alone.

Pat asked Tim to dance and as they walked onto the dance floor, Rowdy and Cheyenne got up to leave.

“You kids have fun! It’s nice to meet you, Cheyenne. I'll see you in Freedom! Bye Rowdy, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Pat yelled across the room as Tim twirled her around the dance floor.

The minute the hotel door shut behind them, Rowdy reached for her. He guided Cheyenne toward the bed. Their lovemaking carried on until the wee hours of the morning. She loved the way he cradled her in one arm as he expertly glided himself upon her.

After breakfast the next morning, they left for Freedom. Rowdy realized he couldn't put it off any longer.

“Can we stop somewhere on the way out of town? I want to buy a pair of cowboy boots.” Cheyenne wanted to be prepared for the adventure.

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“We’ll swing by Shepler’s. It’s my favorite western store.” Rowdy needed a pair of new Wranglers.

They spent over an hour there. Rowdy helped Cheyenne find some stylish western jeans and a pair of practical cowboy boots. She was thrilled when he took such an interest in helping her make the right choices. Rowdy was interested in a pair of expensive Ostrich leather boots. Watching him try them on, she thought. He looks like a kid in a candy store. She wasn’t aware they were the most expensive boots he'd ever tried on. Handing the clerk her purchases, she took Rowdy’s boots and jeans from him and included them with hers. Seeing the confused look on his face, she explained, “It’s the least I can do. I'll be staying with you for a few days. Consider this my way of staying even.”

Charging over a thousand dollars to the company credit card, she laughed knowing Ryan would pay the bill. She hadn’t shopped for western wear since she'd stopped following rodeo many years before. Rowdy wore his new boots out of the store. Looking proud, he boot scooted across the asphalt parking lot toward the truck.

Cheyenne was totally at ease. She was content just being with him. As Rowdy drove the truck onto the freeway, she sensed he seemed disoriented and confused. He had something on his mind. He wanted to be well down the highway, before he shared with her the details of his life in Freedom.

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Driving northwest on I-40, Rowdy described to her what to expect when they got to the ranch. Cheyenne listened closely, especially when he talked about the bunkhouse.

“The bunkhouse has been around forever. It’s very small, and needs a new roof. When it rains, the walls leak and it floods. It’s not very pretty. I'm sure you won’t want to stay for long,” Rowdy looked at her sideways with a grin on his face.

“It can’t be all that bad.” Cheyenne said worried he was telling the truth.

Rowdy smiled, “It’s pretty bad.” He described his life growing up in Freedom. When he was young he was ashamed his family was poor.

“We did what we had to do to survive. It was tough making a living at farming. Dad was a horse trader, and a farmer. That’s how he paid the bills. He bought and sold a lot of horses, and farmed about four thousand acres. My folks never forgot what it was like living during the Depression, and the dust bowl. They've basically gone through hell. I left Freedom at seventeen. I enrolled in college in Guymon. I grew up pretty fast. I was drinking in bars when I was barely eighteen. I went to work as a bouncer in a bar way before I was twenty-one.”

Rowdy wanted to warn Cheyenne what to expect when they got to the ranch.

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“My wife ran around on me. She had one affair after another. I've been involved in a few deals I'm not so proud of. We lived for a short time near Fort Worth, and I shoed horses for a living. When she left, I went a little whacko. We moved back to Freedom. I wanted to kill the bastard I found sleeping in my bed. It was probably a good thing I left town before I killed them both. After working in Iowa for a year or so, I eventually moved back to Freedom to raise my son.” He was happy to share his story with her.

“You’ve lived quite a life! I’m surprised you're still sane, and alive.” Cheyenne was at a loss for words.

“I’m definitely not sane. I consider myself lucky to be alive.” Rowdy smiled and held her hand.

She paid close attention to the stories, yet she knew in her heart none of it really mattered. If anything, they made her love him more. She would have accepted the cowboy if he lived under a bridge. Uncertain if she should trust her gut, or her heart, she feared she was falling in love.

“We've all lived with our demons. I’ve had my share of heartbreak too. That’s old news. Let's leave it behind us. I’m ready to move forward into the future. We'll work together to make both of our lives better,” Cheyenne enjoyed their conversation.

Time passed by fast, and in no time, they were at the ranch.

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Nothing he described could have prepared Cheyenne for what she saw as they drove down the red dirt driveway. She was shocked at the sight of the small, shabby, old wooden shanty they pulled up in front of. She thought. This place resembles a sharecropper's shack. She thought about where she'd lived as a child. Memories of her childhood ranch were a severe contrast to Rowdy’s run down dilapidated surroundings.

She came back to reality, and said under her breath, “I’ve never known anyone who lived like this. What have I gotten myself into?” Seeing the look on her face, Rowdy crossed his fingers.

“This is it. We’re home!” He glanced at her to see her reaction.

The large trees lining the muddy driveway leading to the bunkhouse were layered with snow and sheets of ice. Branches broke under the weight. The ghastly scene closely resembled a war zone.

She turned pale seeing two huge, fat, spotted pigs root in the muddy front yard. She was frightened more by the pigs than by the large Great Dane Rowdy called “Babe”. The big dog jumped up on her side of the truck. Although she was afraid, she masked her true feelings, and smiled.

Rowdy’s son, Shane stood outside on the front porch waving with a wide grin on his face. Cheyenne thought. He looks a lot like Rowdy, and even more like Opie on the Andy Griffith show. Shane was a handsome, twelve- year-old. He was a lanky kid with hundreds of red freckles splashed across a

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button nose. He was cute and seemed friendly. She sensed from the moment she first laid eyes on him, that she would love him.

Rowdy cut a large, fresh, green holiday cedar bow and hung it on the shabby front door. Shane had a fire going in the woodstove. It was warm when they walked inside. Although it was a just a few days after Christmas, there was no decorated tree in the room. A string of colored lights, hung over a large set of weathered, steer horns, giving the room a manly, festive feeling. Through eyes as big as golf balls, she held her breath, and slowly took it all in.

Cheyenne paid particular attention to the dirty, worn-out couch, and two old recliners, sitting on the bare concrete floor. The wood-paneled living room was small, no bigger than the woodshed at the beach house. A homemade hat tree, made from a thick cedar branch, stood tall in the corner. It was layered with heavy winter clothing, dirty cowboy hats and soiled baseball caps. Several pairs of worn, muddy cowboy boots, and dirty grey tennis shoes were scattered around the floor.

The kitchen table was covered with a worn, red-checkered plastic table cloth. A variety of half-empty ketchup bottles, hot sauce bottles, salt and pepper shakers, and an opened box of saltine crackers sat in the middle of the table. A dusty bottle of Crown whiskey sat next to the kitchen sink; and dirty dishes piled high on the countertops.

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Seeing the distressed look on her face, Rowdy hugged her close. “I’m so sorry; I know it’s a mess. I didn’t have time to clean before I left for Oklahoma City.”

Nervously patting him on the butt, Cheyenne hugged his waist, realizing it was too late to turn back. She smiled and looked deep into his blue eyes, “Don’t worry about anything! I’ll be just fine!”

She imagined the bunkhouse must have its own stories to tell. She thought. If only walls could talk. She knew the stories would frighten her. It was obvious the old house may have stood during the Civil War, or at least the Oklahoma Land Rush. Determined not to be judgmental, she made up her mind to make the most of a bad situation. After all, it was Rowdy’s home, and he considered it his castle.

Minutes later, the three of them walked outside and made their way up a set of creaky wooden stairs to an old farmhouse. It was cold and blustery outside. The ancient wooden deck of the farmhouse strained under the weight of a heavy snow.

She wondered if his parents would welcome her. In no time she was comfortable in their presence. They made her feel at ease, and relaxed. She soon felt like she'd known them for years.

Bantering back and forth, Cheyenne answered their questions. The old couple shared several stories about their children, and life on the farm. She

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laughed when Rowdy's mother, Arlene, asked, “Are you here to stay? Where will you sleep?”

Wilbur Harrison appeared embarrassed by his wife’s questions. “Don’t mind mom, she’s just curious.”

Rowdy was proud of Cheyenne’s response. “Don't worry Arlene I’ll sleep on the couch. I’ll only be here a few days. Just long enough to celebrate New Years’ here in Freedom with your son.”

He was extremely fond of his parents, and they were proud of him. When he saw Cheyenne yawn, Rowdy knew it was time to go. “We’ll see you folks in the morning. Cheyenne’s tired, it’s been a long day.” Taking her by the hand Rowdy pulled her up from the worn sofa.

"Good night. It's been nice meeting both of you. I'll see you in the morning." Cheyenne was exhausted. It had been an eye-opening day.

“I’ll sleep here with Papa and Grandma. I'll see you tomorrow, Cheyenne.” Shane said. He liked her. He couldn’t wait to show her around the ranch the next day.

Anxious to be alone, they hurried down the steep, ice-covered stairs to the warm bunkhouse. Rowdy fixed oyster stew, with saltine crackers for supper. She watched him open two cans of oysters, and scurry around the small kitchen, preparing dinner.

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“Can I help? What can I do, wash the dishes?” she asked.

“If you want something to do, find a show to watch on TV. Relax baby, I’ve got everything under control.” Rowdy tossed her the remote.

Cheyenne had eaten plenty of fresh oysters from the bay in front of the beach house. She'd never seen oyster stew made with canned oysters. Searching through the cluttered cupboards, Rowdy located two small trays to hold the stew bowls. They sat together on the old couch, eating supper and watching a rerun of The Andy Griffith Show on the small black-and-white television set. The stew was hot and satisfying it filled her empty stomach.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” Rowdy asked when they finished dinner.

She nodded and saw him fill two water glasses with red wine from a half- full, dust covered bottle. “Thanks for everything, Rowdy! Your parents are great! I enjoyed meeting them. They have some great stories to tell. You had quite a childhood!” She toasted him with the wine filled water glass.

“Welcome to my world, baby!” Rowdy smiled. Finally relaxed, he was happy she was there.

“I'm glad to be here! Thanks for inviting me!” Cheyenne felt comfortable around the cowboy. Happy to be with him in Freedom, she planned to enjoy their time together, despite the filth surrounding them.

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When the Andy Griffith show was over, Cheyenne rolled up her sleeves and went to work. “It'll only take a few minutes to do the dishes.” She quickly changed her mind when she saw the sink was plugged.

“Never mind, I’ll tend to them in the morning. Please, Cheyenne leave them for tonight.” Rowdy was embarrassed by the mess he lived in.

“Why don’t you install a dishwasher?” Cheyenne couldn't believe anyone could live without one.

Getting up from the couch, Rowdy stretched. “I don’t need a dishwasher. I’ve got you. What's your hourly rate?” he asked with a smile. Turning off the television, he unscrewed the single light bulb hanging in the center of the room. He reached for her in the dark and pulled her seductively toward him. They waltzed slowly together into the small, damp, dark bedroom.

Rowdy’s lifestyle was a huge contrast to Cheyenne’s perfect world. She was used to the finer things in life. Her homes in Washington, Arizona and Puerto Vallarta were fabulous mansions. She enjoyed maid service and she rarely washed her own dishes. She'd been spoiled. Despite their many differences, it felt somehow right to both of them that she was there. Since meeting him she'd felt loved, and appreciated. Cheyenne felt she'd met someone who would love her and always be there for her.

Her eyes adjusting to the dim light when he danced her into the bedroom, she saw the wire bedsprings poke their way up through an ancient,

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uncovered mattress. She was thankful to see Rowdy throw a thick quilt over the mattress, and cover it with a clean sheet. He didn’t seem to think it unusual, the springs poked through. Rowdy had a cowboy way of making do. Although it took her a while to get used to the creaking bed; she had another heavenly night of gentle lovemaking. She kept her eyes open, vowing to enjoy every minute.

After the loving, Rowdy dozed off, holding Cheyenne tight. Her eyes wide open; she let her mind wander, as she lay there unable to sleep. She thought. What evil things must lurk in the dampness and darkness of this terrible place? Giving Rowdy one last look; she lightly traced the lines of his weathered face with her finger. She wanted to take it all in, as if to reassure herself she'd come to Freedom for the right reasons. Cheyenne was exhausted from the events of the long day. She finally fell asleep feeling safe, and comfortable knowing Rowdy was by her side. She prayed. Thank you, God, for bringing me to Freedom. Please watch over us as we sleep. Amen.

The days began early on the ranch. Before daylight, she felt Rowdy stir and she knew her day was about to begin the same way the previous night had ended. The gentle lovemaking brought tears to her eyes. It had been a long time since she'd felt so appreciated, and special. The material things she'd left behind, suddenly seemed unimportant. Listening to Rowdy tell his stories the day before, she was sure he was acquainted with everyone in the

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county. Seeing him shuffle through an assortment of dirty boots on the floor, she cringed when he chose the dirtiest pair. She thought. This will take some getting used to.

“I’ve got chores to do. I won’t be gone long! I'll be back soon!” He kissed her on the forehead and walked outside, leaving her feeling alone, and abandoned, in the miserable place.

Searching for something to occupy her time, Cheyenne plunged the drain free of its rotten debris. After washing the mounds of dirty dishes, she made the bed. Hearing dogs bark, she peered out the window and saw two dirty pickup trucks drive slowly down the driveway. A pair of large, burly men got out and marched through the heavy snow and red mud, toward the bunkhouse door.

The door burst open exposing the strangers who grinned from ear to ear.

“Did we scare you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Is the coffee on?” the tallest man asked. The men plopped down in the recliners apparently planning on staying a spell.

“Good morning! My name's Cheyenne. Who are you?”

“It's nice to meet you! I'm Todd and this is Don. We’ve known Rowdy since we were kids.”

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“I figured you must know him. I don’t think he would appreciate me letting in strangers.” The men laughed, and pointed toward the coffee pot.

“We’ll have a cup if you don’t mind.”

Pouring the coffee, she sat down at the kitchen table facing them. The men enjoyed their coffee and appeared relaxed sitting in the shabby recliners. They suddenly began to ask a thousand questions.

Rowdy heard the trucks pull in and made his way, through deep snow, back to the bunkhouse. When he entered, he saw Cheyenne was reasonably comfortable with his old friends. They were getting along well. She had answers for all of their questions. He was pleased his friends liked his new woman.

Listening to his friends talk, she realized they had stopped by to get Rowdy’s permission to hunt on the ranch. After finishing two cups of coffee, Don excused himself. He walked outside, returning momentarily with a small ice chest filled with canned Keystone beer. The men then drank down several beers, discussing which fields to hunt in.

“You're welcome anywhere you’d like. Just be sure to shut the gates when you come and go! I don’t want the cattle out on the highway,” Rowdy agreed they could hunt on the ranch.

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When the beer was gone after saying good-bye, Rowdy’s friends walked outside to their waiting pickup trucks. Waving from the front porch, they watched the beer-drinking hunters back their trucks down the long muddy driveway.

Once back inside, moments later Cheyenne heard the dogs bark again. Peering out the window she saw another pickup truck, covered with red mud, come down the wet driveway.

“It’s Danny, he’s a partner with Tim and I in the bull business,” Rowdy said joining her at the window

“Jesus, this place is like Grand Central Station.” Cheyenne was disappointed. She wasn’t ready for more company.

Sauntering into the bunkhouse, the bow-legged man introduced himself. “Howdy ma’am, my name’s Dan, I’m Rowdy’s partner.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Dan. I’m Cheyenne.”

He moved toward the refrigerator. “Got any cold beer?” he asked.

She nodded. “There’s plenty in the fridge!”

Spying the dusty bottle of Crown Royal, sitting on the countertop, Dan took a long drink from the bottle and continued toward the refrigerator. Returning to the living room, with a cold beer in his hand, he sat down on the couch

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beside her. Throwing an arm around her shoulders, he turned on the cowboy charm, “What in the hell does a gorgeous woman like you see in ole Rowdy?”

“Thanks for the compliment. What does a good looking guy like Rowdy see in me?” Cheyenne laughed. Dan was obviously drunk. The smell of his alcohol-laced breath, took hers away. Excusing herself, she stood up from the sofa and began to straighten up the bunkhouse, leaving Dan alone on the sofa.

The men began to talk. She stayed out of the conversation, feeling uncomfortable hearing them discuss their business affairs.

“We need to buy a new truck. Mine has over two hundred thousand miles on it. We can’t use it any more to haul the bulls,” Danny was aware, Cheyenne was listening.

“We’ve got a big load coming in from the swamps of Louisiana this weekend. They should be good buckers. Hang in there a while, Dan. We’ll get a new truck when we sell off the old cows in the spring.” Rowdy opened another Budweiser.

Pretending to stay busy, she overheard them say they were barely getting buy in the bull business. Over the few hours, Dan polished off the bottle of Crown. When the meeting was over he staggered to his truck and drove

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away. She had learned a lot about their private affairs. They were disappointed with Tim, and desperately needed working capital.

The next few days, flew by. Early on New Year’s Eve Cheyenne laid out her evening clothes on the antique feather bed.

“Take off the diamond rings, and hide them. I don’t want to get mugged tonight. The lace top and those fancy boots will only get you in trouble. Wear the jeans and boots we bought yesterday in Oklahoma City. Nothing fancy, I know, but appropriate for the Freedom bar.” Rowdy wasn’t pleased with what she’d planned to wear.

“Okay, but I'm going to wear the western black fringe jacket I brought. Don’t you think it’s perfect? Check out the silver Concho buttons and the long fringe! Wearing it makes me feel like a sexy cowgirl.” Cheyenne didn’t care what she wore. She was excited about spending New Year’s Eve in a place called Freedom.

“Okay! Wear the jacket, but don’t lay it down in the bar! Someone will walk away with it!” Rowdy poured himself a shot of Crown.

Promising she'd keep the jacket on, Cheyenne hurried to get dressed. She worried about losing the expensive leather jacket.

“Dress, like a west Texas woman, when you're with me,” Rowdy said opening another beer and taking a long drink.

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“How in the hell do west Texas women dress?” she asked wondering if he was drunk. She’d never heard of west Texas.

Bending over, he stacked her long, tight jeans around her boot tops; and buttoned the top button of her western shirt.

“Now you’ve got the look! You’re officially my west Texas gal!” He grinned showing his approval.

Rowdy had good taste. He was right about the jeans and plain cowboy boots. When they walked through the front door of the Freedom Saloon Cheyenne received approving looks from the men in the bar. Happy she'd taken Rowdy’s advice, she felt like she fit in with his friends. Making him a proud man, she impressed everyone in the bar. He appreciated the way she openly engaged his friends in conversation.

Going out of her way to be friendly to everyone, she chatted with each person she met. Knowing she'd return to Freedom again someday, she wanted to make friends, rather than enemies. Knowing Freedom folk didn’t take to kindly to strangers, Cheyenne was determined to fit in.

Over the next few hours, she drank cold beer and danced the two-step with all of Rowdy’s friends. It was the best New Year’s Eve party she’d ever been to. She enjoyed most of the people she met, and the welcoming atmosphere of the Freedom Bar. By the time the night was over she’d developed a southern drawl. She thought. I sound like I was born in west

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Texas. Feeling Rowdy’s approving eyes upon her Cheyenne made her way around the room. There was no female competition.

"I'm glad to see you can hold your own! Welcome to Freedom!” Rowdy pulled her close for a kiss, proud she was his woman. When they danced, he whispered, “You're the most beautiful woman in this place.”

Looking around the bar at the other women, she sadly agreed. The handful of women who were there were not very attractive. The saloon was full mostly of lonely looking men.

“Where are their wives? It’s New Year’s Eve. Why don’t they have a date?” Cheyenne asked glancing at the men.

“Hell, their wives won’t come in this place. Most of the guys are single. There aren’t many decent women around Freedom to take out.” Rowdy felt lucky to have Cheyenne as his date.

Everyone was curious to know how they met in Las Vegas. The more beer Cheyenne drank, the better stories she told. Her tales lit up the eyes of the tired men in the Freedom Bar. They listened carefully to her every word. The stories she told seemed to give them hope.

“You should have seen Rowdy slip the waiter a twenty the night he and Tim took me and my friend to dinner at Binion’s Steakhouse. We sat at a beautiful table by the window. He tried to buy the most expensive bottle of

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wine in the restaurant, but I wouldn’t allow it. We didn’t eat much, but the wine was great. Kathryn and I rode with the boys to the airport in the limo when they left. We thought we were rid of them, but they showed back up at the Nugget at three o’clock in the morning. We were in bed. We’d taken sleeping pills. Groggy but hungry, we got up and joined them for breakfast in the casino cafe. The waiter was embarrassed when I asked for KY jelly. Rowdy and Tim didn’t know what KY jelly was. You should have been there. We really had a blast!”

Cheyenne carried on with the stories, keeping quiet about what had gone on in the hotel room. Some things were simply none of their business.

She took a particular liking to one of Rowdy’s good-looking friends, John Baker. He was tall dark-haired cowboy with deep green eyes, and a huge smile.

“Rowdy and I went to high school together. We’ve been good friends forever. You got any pretty gal friends you can bring to Freedom?” John asked, feeling attracted to Rowdy’s new girlfriend sensing he wouldn’t have a chance in hell of getting anywhere with her.

“Come on, John, Rowdy says you're a married man! What’s with wanting to meet my friends?” Standing between them at the bar, she thought. Rowdy's cute, but John is very handsome!

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The cowboys were on a roll. They told one story after another about what it was like growing up there. They talked about prior New Year’s Eve parties at the Freedom bar, and laughed remembering how they would lather up with Chap Stick as midnight approached.

“We’d suck on a breath mint, share the Chap Stick, and slather it on thick!” John had a wide grin on his face.

When the men demonstrated how they had done it, she laughed out loud. The stories were hilarious. She enjoyed seeing the grown men carry on like fools.

The men talked about their senior class trip to Disneyland. “We rode on a charter bus all the way to Los Angeles. We'd planned for months exactly which senior girl we were going to make out with on the way. I think we were only seventeen. Remember the bum we got to buy us beer? Our teachers had no idea we were such bad kids. I’ll never forget the hooker who tried to pick me up at the quick-stop.” Rowdy held his side, laughing out of control.

“Yeah, I remember the huge ringworm you had all around your mouth. The hooker didn’t stick around long after she saw it! There wasn’t a girl on the bus who wanted to kiss you!” John grinned, taking another swig of beer.

The other men in the bar were anxious to have Cheyenne’s attention. A tall, lonesome cowboy sitting alone, asked, “Do you have any single women

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friends you could bring to Freedom?” When he smiled, Cheyenne saw he had no teeth.

“I’m afraid not. Most of my girlfriends are rather snooty! The only way they would consider coming to Freedom is if we set up a spa!”

Her comment caused a domino effect. The men all had ideas on how to accommodate Cheyenne’s snooty friends. They swore anything was possible if it meant beautiful women would come to town. An old farmer stood close by stuffing quarter's into the jukebox. He stopped what he was doing and joined in. “By golly, I think we could make it work! I’ll hose them down with the garden hose and roll them in the red mud.”

A young rancher chimed in, “I’ll blindfold them and put them in the pig pen. We’ll let the pigs root em’!” The isolated men in in the bar began to laugh hysterically. They continued to yell their suggestions as to the types of spa services they would offer.

“You get them here, Cheyenne. We’ll take care of the rest!” John laughed.

The bar owner broke into the conversation. “It would be real dangerous if any of your friends were having their period!” Spike grinned seeing the look on her face.

“What would that have to do with anything?” Cheyenne asked naively.

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“Cause if a pig smells blood, he’d eat them,” Spike replied. Slapping his hand to his knee, he laughed out loud and guzzled down his beer.

“We'd have to charge extra for that!” Buck Jones, the old toothless cowboy chimed in.

Cheyenne joined in, laughing so hard she almost fell off the bar stool. She couldn’t picture any of her girlfriends enjoying a spa in Freedom, or for that matter, the people she’d met there. She was having a good time. She liked it there. She loved all of Rowdy’s crazy friends

When she tried to explain the spa story to her friend on the telephone the next day, Jennifer didn’t think it was funny.

“The men down there are nothing but disgusting pigs. They’re backwards. How sick! Come home right now! You know I would never come to a spa in that town,” Jennifer was upset

“You should have been there. It was pretty damned funny,” Cheyenne knew her friend would never understand why she liked being a part of Rowdy’s crazy world.

She enjoyed the stories in the Freedom bar and she joined in the bull shit. The night out helped her to forget her troubles. Memories of her life with Ryan grew dimmer with each passing day. Rowdy’s friends willingly took her in. They welcomed her with open arms. She believed she may have

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found a place where she finally belonged. The high society life she’d lived was behind her. She vowed to make the most of the situation. Cheyenne was a survivor. The divorce wasn’t going to destroy her. She saw it as an opportunity to start a new life far away from the two-faced friends who deserted her when the divorce was filed. Many of their friends had taken Ryan’s side and thrown her out of the circle. Or had they? Was it her imagination running wild? The truth was she was humiliated and embarrassed by Ryan’s vile deception. She couldn’t face anyone. It was easier to run away then to see the pity in their eyes.

They had raging hangovers when they awoke the next morning. Rowdy made ham and eggs, and great-tasting Bloody Marys. Traditionally, he put a pot of black-eyed peas on the stove to simmer. When they finished breakfast, tired from the activities of the night before, Cheyenne wanted to go back to bed. Rowdy, feeling the effects of the vodka, had a different idea. He enjoyed having a woman in the house. The party wasn’t over. There would be time to sleep later. He was in a happy mood, “If you don’t eat black-eyed peas today, you’ll have bad luck all year! Grab your coat. You’re going with me to feed the cattle. I want you to see what I do every day. It’s a new year, baby. Let’s start it out right!”

“Okay, whatever you say, cowboy! I’m ready when you’re ready.” She wondered if he was still drunk from the night before.

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Putting on their warm jackets they left the bunkhouse and ran through the blowing snow, toward a worn out feed truck.

Rowdy worried about taking Cheyenne out in such weather. It was a normal day for him. There was always something to be done on the ranch no matter what the weather. There were hungry cattle to feed. It would be fun to take her along for the ride. He knew he’d enjoy her company. Seeing the ice chest full of cold beer he'd packed for their outing, Cheyenne thought. He doesn’t go far without his beer.

“Bring your camera? I want to show you the sights,” Rowdy filled the back of the truck with cattle feed. “I appreciate your help. Can you drive a truck?” he laughed as they pulled away from the ranch. “All you’ll need to do is drive in a straight line. I’ll be in the back shoveling feed to the cows. Lean on the horn while you’re driving. It gets their attention. Got it? You drive and honk. I’ll do the rest.” Rowdy laughed. He was happy to have such a pretty woman in his truck cab.

They crossed the highway and drove onto a dirt road. Winding their way through Alabaster Cavern’s State Park, they arrived, a few minutes later, at a pasture full of hungry cattle. Rowdy jumped from the cab and pulled Cheyenne into the driver’s seat. She saw him shovel cattle feed onto the frozen ground as she guided the old feed truck slowly through the field, blowing the horn as she drove.

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She was amazed at the large number of cows she saw following the truck. They surrounded them, making loud bawling noises and blowing snot out of their cold noses. He laughed when she said, “Get in the truck before they hurt you!”

When Rowdy finished scooping the feed he signaled for her to stop and he climbed inside. “Step on it! We have to get going before the cows decide to follow us. They need to stay here and eat. If we don’t get out of here now, the dumb bastards will follow us, thinking we have more feed!”

Cheyenne drove fast toward the top of the hill. She stomped on the gas pedal as if she were a race car driver. Reaching into the cooler Rowdy pulled out a couple of cold beers. Twisting them open, he handed her a beer praising her for a job well done. He teased, “Good job. You’re not too bad for a girl! Let’s get out of here! I want to show you some beautiful Oklahoma scenery!”

They drove over the frozen prairie ground going east for several miles. Cheyenne feared they would get lost and not be able to find their way home. When she was thinking about turning truck around, Rowdy yelled, “Stop here. I want you to see The Leap! Many years ago an Indian brave and his fair maiden jumped from here because their families forbid them to be together.”

“Are you making this up?” Cheyenne asked.

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“I swear the story is true, Trust me on this one!” Rowdy laughed.

The wind blew hard across the frozen prairie. “Let’s make it fast, I hate being cold!” Cheyenne shivered.

“Stop sniveling girlfriend!” Rowdy reached over and gave her a kiss.

She stopped the truck and he got out and ran around to open her door. Cheyenne fell from the cab into his strong arms. Taking her by the hand, Rowdy yelled like a wild Indian brave as they ran toward the cliff. “Hold on tight, baby, we’re going to jump!”

“Rowdy it’s freezing out here! Are you crazy? You go ahead and jump. I’m not going with you don’t act like a child! What do you mean we’re going to jump?” Cheyenne’s heart beat out of her chest.

Stopping just short of the cliff’s edge, Rowdy took Cheyenne in his arms and held her close. He began to point out the sights. “Look, there’s the mighty Cimarron River! See way over there--that's Kansas. Freedom is just to the west!”

“Thank you so much for sharing your wonderful world with me!” Cheyenne looked at the sights and cried.

Walking hand in hand back to the feed truck, they got inside and drove back to the bunkhouse in silence. Cheyenne's tears were happy tears. She realized her life had changed forever. She felt fortunate. She loved Rowdy

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for who he was, and she had no thoughts of trying to change him. He was very different, and a lot more fun, than Ryan had ever been. That suited her fine. She was ready to have fun. Sometimes it felt as though she’d always been an adult. She’d married young and had her children young. Now it was time for her to be young again, despite the circumstances and her age.

Arriving back at the bunkhouse, they went inside and Rowdy turned up the heat. In no time the cold bunkhouse was warm and cozy. They spent the rest of the day watching football on TV, and eating black-eyed peas. Making love on the old couch, during a lengthy commercial, they laughed later about the fun they had the night before. It was like a western movie scene. Being with Rowdy alone in the bunkhouse was everything she wanted. At the end of the long day, when they crawled into the old feather bed, Cheyenne cried again. This time she cried sad tears. She remembered she’d be going home in the morning. She wasn’t ready to go. Some may have called Freedom hell. She called it a piece of heaven on earth. It was Rowdy’s world; a world very new, and exciting to her. It was a place she needed to be at the time. She liked that it was far away from Washington. She had suffered too much heartache there in recent times. It was nice to have a place to go to where she felt such love.

The next day, after parking the dirty pickup in the garage at Will Rogers Airport, Rowdy jumped out and hurried around to open Cheyenne’s door. Picking up her luggage from the back of the truck, he insisted he'd rather

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carry them than wheel them into the airport. Rowdy was strong and tough. She thought. Whatever he's comfortable with, it’s okay with me! She'd already learned it was easier to do it his way. She realized it was sometimes best to keep her womanly opinions to herself.

After checking the heavy bags at the ticket counter, they strolled into the cocktail lounge. Rowdy ordered his usual draw beer, and Cheyenne asked for a glass of ice tea. Pleased they arrived at the airport early, she was thankful to have a few more minutes with him. Hearing the announcement of the arrival of her departing flight, Cheyenne cuddled up to him for a final hug and kiss.

“Baby, you're taking a part of me with you!” Rowdy whispered.

“That's so sweet, thank you! I'll be coming back soon.” Cheyenne drooled.

Gently pushing her away, he glanced down at the floor. When he looked up, she saw him smile. “I was talking about the cow shit on your boots. You’re taking my cow shit home with you!”

Cheyenne laughed. Looking down, she saw the cow shit on her boots. They laughed together and the tears once again begin to roll.

“Enough. Baby, don’t cry! I don’t like long good-byes. I’ll see you soon.” He gave her a lingering hug. And then, Rowdy was gone.

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Sorry to see him go, Cheyenne made her way through security and beyond to her gate. She was happy she'd decided to fly to Paradise Valley. The flight to Arizona was shorter than flying all the way to Seattle. She was ready to relax in the winter sun, and swim in her heated pool. Wiping the tears away with the worn hanky Rowdy loaned to her she smiled. She felt totally exhausted, yet somehow restored.

When the plane landed in Phoenix, she was the first passenger off. Calling the limo service, she instructed the driver to meet her at the North Curb in fifteen minutes. Cheyenne was glad to be home, but she knew it wouldn’t be long before she would return to Freedom. She'd found the perfect place to heal. She intended to take advantage of it. She’d shared her sorrows with the cowboy. He'd comforted her like she'd never been comforted before. She planned her return trip in her mind, as she made her way through a busy Sky Harbor terminal.

The cell phone rang. She was pleased to see it was Kathryn calling. “Hello girlfriend! It’s good to hear your voice. We need to catch up. Do you want to go to Harold’s for happy hour tomorrow night?” She looked forward to seeing her friend.

Cheyenne was thankful to be back in Arizona. She was anxious to see Kathryn and tell her about the trip. “I'd love to! I'll see you tomorrow! We have a lot to talk about!”

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She spent the next few weeks at her home in Paradise Valley, staying busy working on her divorce. Making an appointment with her plastic surgeon, she got a six-month renewal of Botox injections. She attended several happy hours with Kathryn, and was glad to be busy. She couldn’t believe she missed Rowdy with such fervent passion. They talked on the phone almost every day. Kathryn didn’t understand her friend's love for the Freedom cowboy. She couldn't believe her classy, worldly friend had fallen so hard.

Cheyenne didn’t understand her own feelings. The relationship with Rowdy was more exciting than the one with Ryan had ever been. She thought the cowboy was genuine and true-blue, and at that early stage of the game, she trusted him.

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CHAPTER FOUR

The town of Freedom is situated in a beautiful green valley nestled along the Cimarron River in northwest Oklahoma. The old western cow town is located in the middle of Tornado Alley; however very few tornadoes have ever touched down there.

The population consists mainly of old-timers and families who settled in and around Freedom after the 1893 land rush. Few young people stick around after they finish high school. Most of them move on to larger cities or towns to explore grander opportunities than are offered in Freedom. The majority of high school seniors leave for college and few return, except for an occasional visit during the holidays or to attend a family or class reunion.

The residents of Freedom welcome tourists into their town once a year, when thousands of rodeo fans arrive to attend their annual rodeo. The

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Freedom Rodeo’s tradition has lived on in the town for over seventy-five years.

Cheyenne researched the history of the area, and discovered the town of Freedom was established eight years after the 1893 Cherokee Outlet Land Run. The U.S. government originally purchased the land in 1891 from the Cherokee Indians, and Freedom was established as a town in 1901.

The Santa Fe Railroad Company built a railway line running between Waynoka and Buffalo, Oklahoma. Its lines run close to the town of Freedom. By 1928 the town was prospering. Freight trains made daily stops there. Several new businesses had developed as a result of the railroad, and they soon had a grocery store, auto repair garage, drug store, barber shop, lumber yard, meat market, hardware store, produce shop, feed yard, cafe, a hotel and a bank.

In 1928 the population of Freedom was two hundred fifty one. When Cheyenne arrived in 1996 the population was two hundred and eighty-one.

The main street of the old western town featured wooden store fronts and wood sidewalks. She'd initially imagined the town had the potential to be a popular Oklahoma tourist destination. However, she soon discovered too many of the older citizens were content with the status quo. They were not interested in putting up with tourists or outsiders of any race or gender.

Freedom was a unique little town.

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Cheyenne returned to Freedom often. She went there to escape the loneliness that consumed her every waking minute. Her kids were grown and gone. They had a life of their own. Her marriage was over. Freedom became her ultimate getaway. When she wasn’t there, she'd yearn to return to the country lifestyle and comfort it provided. Rowdy was an obsession. She wanted desperately to be a part of his life. The more time she spent with him the more in love she was.

The exciting, somewhat impossible, relationship with Rowdy was a welcome change from the extreme love connection she'd shared with Ryan. She'd loved her husband deeply. Although their recent life together hadn't been as stimulating as it once was, especially since their daughters had grown up and moved away. When she was with Rowdy, she was with her best friend. She'd been given a second chance to live a more meaningful, adventurous life. Rowdy was different than Ryan. He wasn’t stuffy, more relaxed and caring. Her life with a different man, and a new family, in an unfamiliar and interesting rural part of the country, was appealing. She'd succeeded in running away. She was enjoying starting over.

The town of Freedom reminded her of the Wild West. She loved the blue sky, bright stars, rolling plains; and Rowdy. Her life was romantic and exciting. She felt like a movie star riding around the ranch in the old farm trucks-- checking cattle, and watching Rowdy shoe horses. The time she spent in the small cow town took her back in time fifteen years.

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There was no law enforcement in Freedom; no police, no judge, and no jail. The town folk made and enforced their own laws. The people policed each other. They resented any law getting close. Word spread fast among them when one would spot a state trooper or a sheriff’s vehicle staked out nearby.

Most of the people living in and around Freedom were farmers or ranchers. Many of them became frustrated when the hard work failed to pay off. When a local farmer had a good wheat crop, it didn’t always mean he'd receive a fair price for his time and effort. The farmer’s financial success depended on the government’s value of wheat in a particular season.

Mother Nature took a toll on the Freedom farmers. They were forever challenged by drought, wind, rain, and insects. The obstacles they faced in their day-to-day lives could destroyed the souls of those with little hope or faith. Many farmers in Northwest Oklahoma lived on a prayer and a shoe string. New farming equipment was expensive, and available only to a choice few. Some could barely afford to pay for the seed to plant the crops, let alone replace aging equipment. They depended heavily on operating loans from local bank to help them eke out a living.

There were extreme differences in the lifestyles of the people. Local politicians and crooks owned acres and acres. They seemed to have the best farming equipment money could buy. However, the poorer sharecropping farmers had little chance for success. There was a shortage of water to

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irrigate the crops. Most farmers didn’t have irrigation systems in place. They relied on Mother Nature for an occasional thunderstorm, and a soaking rain. Cheyenne read The Grapes of Wrath. She thought. Things haven’t changed much around Freedom since the dust bowl and Great Depression!

The farmers were limited to the crops they could plant. The farm land was planted in wheat or grass, and used for grazing cattle. Year after year the desperate farmers planted wheat. They would sometimes have a decent crop, but many times, depending on the elements, they would have no crop at all. Regardless, as the years went by, and seasons changed, Cheyenne saw farmers repeat the efforts over and over again; as if it were the only way they knew.

Her favorite time of year, in Northwest Oklahoma, was the early spring time. The rolling green wheat fields would resemble expansive golf courses. From the highway, the green wheat fields appeared to go on forever. She imagined the farm families prayed the crops would stay safe from the elements. Cheyenne prayed too.

A few farmers occasionally drank too many beers in the Freedom Saloon seeking a release from the tension, and anxiety, of their everyday farming life.

“They’ll sometimes bar the door of the Freedom Saloon and beat the crap out of each other, just to relieve their frustration with the world around them,

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and with each other.” Rowdy looked serious as he said it. Cheyenne thought. What doesn’t kill you in Freedom only makes you stronger!

Gossip spread fast through the small town. There were no secrets. Old- timers relayed stories about the good old days. Gossip was spread throughout the community by nosey, bored citizens listening to their neighbor’s telephone conversations over the old party lines. One family might have one ring and the other might have two, but somehow they always knew when their neighbors were on the line. Many hours were spent in the old days with neighbors quietly listening in on each other’s conversations, over crank telephones, from the confines of farmhouse living rooms.

On one occasion, the people in Freedom were experiencing an unusual amount of petty crime. They blamed the incidents on an element of young drifters who'd recently moved into town. Farm trucks were vandalized and homes were broken into. Thieves stole anything not tied down.

Rowdy took the matter into his own hands. He devised a way to catch the crooks. Catching a couple of large prairie rattlers, he put them inside an ice chest he kept in the back of his farm truck. Driving into Freedom, he was out for revenge. He hoped the crooks would appear. As luck would have it, he saw a handful of strangers walk into the bar. Approaching the outsiders, he asked, “Where do you boys come from? What are you doing in these parts? How long do you intend to stay here? Are you looking for work? I could use

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a few hard working honest ranch hands! You fellas need to stay out of my beer cooler in the back of the red Chevy out front!” Rowdy smiled on the inside, knowing they had fallen for his line.

The strangers were evasive. “It's none of your business old timer. I don’t know. Man, we don’t want your beer. We’re not looking for work!”

“Do you know who broke into the hardware last night?” Rowdy continued.

The leader of the gang raised an eyebrow. “What’s it to you old man?” he asked.

“It doesn't matter much to me!” Rowdy shrugged. “I just thought you'd like to know the Feds were just here. They were asking if we knew anything!” Rowdy knew then he was talking to the right guys.

The gang leader approached the bar, “Y’all got any cash back there? I want to cash a check!”

“I've got no money! My wife just took it to the bank! Sorry boys I can’t cash your check.” Spike threw his hands high into the air.

Handing him a one-hundred-dollar bill, the gang leader smirked, “We don’t need to cash a check. Just sell us a couple of cases of Corona to go. Then we’ll be on our way.” He laid the hundred-dollar bill down on the bar,

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and Spike grabbed it. Examining the bill closely under the dim bar light, Spike rang up the sale. He gave the man his change.

Entering the walk-in cooler Spike returned, carrying two cases of Corona. He was relieved when the gang took their beer and left the bar.

Rowdy followed the drifters to the bar door, and locked it behind them. Slowly parting the closed front window curtains, he smiled seeing the men approach his red Chevy pickup. Opening the door, they rustled through everything inside. One of them walked to the back of the truck and opened the ice chest.

“You crooks are going to get what you came for!”

The men in the bar heard loud, painful screams coming from the street. Rowdy closed the curtain and walked away. The snake-trap had worked.

The small crowd in the bar paid little attention to the cries for help. The thieves tried to re-enter the bar. They repeatedly tried the door knob, pounding and yelling, “Let us in! Call an ambulance! Juan's been bit by a frigging prairie rattler!”

Spike walked toward the door with a loaded gun in hand.

“I'm not going to open the door! There’s a loaded thirty-eight pointed at your foolish head. I'd rather shoot you than listen to you whine. Get the hell

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out of here!” He cocked the gun and fired off a round into the tin ceiling of the old bar. The gun gave Spike courage. He had no fear.

“Y’all get the hell out of Freedom! Don’t come back! Do you hear me? Next time I’ll shoot your thieving ass!” he yelled walking back behind the bar. Hiding the gun, he lit a cigarette and took a long drag.

The bar patrons let out a combined sigh of relief hearing truck doors slam and the angry voices fade away. A diesel engine turned over and tires squealed. They were confident the crooks were on their way out of town.

Leaving the bar, Rowdy saw his beer cooler was destroyed. The crooks had thrown it from the back of his truck. They ran over it in their haste to leave. One prairie rattler lay dead on the street. The other was nowhere to be seen.

The story spread rapidly around town how Rowdy’s rattle snakes, and Spike’s thirty-eight, run the undesirables out of Freedom.

Many of the people living in Freedom were hard-working, honest, survivors. They cherished their good old-fashioned way of life. They honored their neighbors, and valued family traditions. Cheyenne held some of them in high regard.

However, she had no love, and little patience, for the small group of drug-crazed vagabonds living in and around Freedom. Meth was a huge

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problem in Woods and Woodward counties. The older citizens would be shocked to know who in their family were drug dealers, and heavy users. The drug addicts settled near Freedom to seek a safe haven from the law.

The drifters who came through town, with hopes of settling down there, were eventually asked to move on. It didn’t take outsiders long to see who made the rules. A person had to be rough, tough, strong, ornery and a little crazy to survive in that town. Those who didn’t develop a survivorship attitude would be taken advantage of.

Many living within fifty miles of Freedom were related, in one way, or another. Cousins were married to cousins, uncles married to nieces; fathers were married to aunts and many other combinations. Rowdy warned her to watch out who she complained to, and what she said. She learned the hard way. More than once, she was caught talking about someone’s unruly behavior, only to discover she was talking to their first cousin, or another close relative.

There was a definite rivalry between the families who lived north of the Cimarron River and those who lived to the south. The attitudes of the people from the north had the potential, and power, to destroy men, damage families and ruin reputations.

Cheyenne soon learned not to disturb the status quo, fearing she’d find herself labeled and blacklisted. She lived south of the river, where folk were

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deemed less fortunate and lower class, than the neighbors to the north. Cheyenne considered herself to be royalty. She held her head high. She defended the hardworking people from the south of town, and disliked those from the north, with a holier-than-thou attitude!

If your last name wasn’t Harrison, Baker, Gephardt, Ward, or Smith, you were deemed lower class in the eyes of the citizens of the north. God forbid you needed a loan from the local bank to keep your farm and your family alive. If you weren’t from one of the wealthier families in Freedom, you were looked down upon. The town bullies would have their way with you.

While married to Ryan, she'd grown accustomed to being considered upper crust. She was sometimes referred to as a “rich bitch.” She laughed at the attitudes of those who'd considered themselves to be better than others in Northwest Oklahoma. Many had never experienced the wealth she'd known.

Cheyenne wanted to keep her personal life, wealth and background to herself. She didn’t like to appear better, in anyway, than anyone else. She knew she wasn’t. She wanted to be accepted for being a good, honest person. She learned to dislike those in the community who constantly tried to take advantage.

Holding her head high, Cheyenne let the townspeople deal with her attitude. It drove some crazy, not knowing much about her, but she wanted to keep it that way. It took a special attitude, and presence, for a newcomer

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to be accepted in Freedom. Cheyenne wondered if she’d been accepted. She doubted it.

The small country town had a co-op, where farmers bought feed and seed at highly escalated prices. The owner of the local hardware could get you anything you needed, and have it delivered in two days, if you were willing to pay his price. The corner grocery store sold gas and groceries; prices were steep. The grocery store owner sometimes charged double the prices she paid at Wal-Mart in Woodward.

There were no stoplights in the one-horse town. There was a school with grades from one to twelve, a town hall, a post office, legion hall, small western museum, sewing shop, two country cafes, rodeo arena, bank and saloon.

Tumbleweeds blew down the dusty main street. Cheyenne imagined the old town could easily have been a ghost town in a movie set, but it wasn’t; it was all very real.

Webster’s dictionary defined the word “freedom” in part, as: “The quality or state of being free; and, the absence of necessity, coercion, or constraint in choice or action; and, liberation from slavery or restraint or from the power of another; and, the quality or state of being exempt or released usually from something onerous; and, the quality of being frank, open, or outspoken.”

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Although she’d read, and understood, the definition in Webster’s dictionary, Cheyenne could have easily added to the meaning. She had her own version of Freedom. She knew Freedom to be a small, quaint, secluded town in Northwest Oklahoma. It was a place she'd fled to find her personal freedom. She'd gone there to retreat from the hurt and devastation she'd felt when her husband walked away. Initially being in a place called Freedom seemed to help heal her broken heart. Being there left her feeling liberated and free from the life she’d shared with Ryan.

Freedom and the cowboy captured her interest, and her heart. Unfortunately, eventually both served to further devour her soul. Unfortunately, to some extent, living there destroyed Cheyenne’s faith in mankind.

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CHAPTER FIVE

The Freedom Saloon was established in the early 1900s. When Cheyenne arrived there in 1996, she met the owners, Spike and Lonnie Lane, an older happily married couple, who’d moved there from New Mexico. Spike was a smoking fiend; a story-telling, opinionated son of a gun. Cheyenne loved him. She enjoyed listening to his stories, and sometimes teasingly called him, Archie Bunker. He always had a cold beer opened behind the bar, and a lit Marlboro cigarette in his hand. Despite any statewide smoking bans, Spike allowed customers to smoke in his bar. The air in the Freedom Saloon reeked of cigarette smoke. When Cheyenne visited there she smelled like she'd smoked a pack of cigarettes when she left. The heavy smoke permeated her hair and clothing.

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The couple took a great pride in their ownership of the Freedom Saloon. Other than the heavy cigarette smoke; the place was always as clean as a whistle. Their beer was the coldest in the county. Lonnie fussed and cleaned constantly. Cheyenne liked the way she decorated the bar. Spike had the gift of gab. He was an excellent carpenter, handy with the hammer.

Spike was always there for Cheyenne; whether it was to help with repairs at the ranch, or a friendly shoulder to cry on. When she’d walk through the front door of his saloon, Spike would pop open a bottle of Bud Light, and welcome her with open arms.

It was very dark inside the Freedom Saloon. Spike kept it that way, to keep the power bill low. The old bar was hot in the summer and cold in the winter. Spike would sometimes buy a round of beer for the boys at the bar, yet he wouldn’t turn on the lights or the heat. Cheyenne gave up early on trying to figure him out.

The interior of the old saloon had an antique tin ceiling, with dark wooden paneling covering the walls. The front windows were covered with heavy brocade curtains; they were always closed. Cheyenne never saw them drawn open to allow in the sunlight.

At least a hundred dusty old cowboy hats, in various stages of deterioration, hung side by side, around the edge of the high ceiling. The hats were mounted on separate wooden panels with the name of the owner

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inscribed below each one. A hat, belonging to Freckles Brow, was centered above the bar. He was a famous cowboy who'd once performed at the Freedom rodeo, and left the hat behind. Wilbur and Jake Harrison’s hats hung side by side. Rowdy’s stomped-on, dirty straw hung in a dark corner.

Sometimes, when Cheyenne was in town, Spike would close the saloon early. Locking the front door he'd invite Cheyenne and Rowdy to hang around to keep him company.

There were several locals who were regulars at the bar; namely, Del, Sam, CW, Buck Jones, Richard, Jane, Rambo and a few others.

Del owned the Freedom Hardware. Sam was an old-time cowboy who'd lived in Freedom his entire life. Everyone who knew Sam loved and respected him. CW was Rowdy’s first cousin. He built metal grain feeders and collected old army vehicles. Buck Jones was originally from Waynoka. Buck hired out as a farm hand on one of the local farms. He enjoyed drinking beer, and chasing wild women. He bragged he was a hell of a fisherman, and a pretty good pool player. Jane was the belle of the bar. She was a pretty woman with a huge smile, and a heart as big as Texas. Richard was a loudmouth truck driver. Cheyenne wasn’t fond of him, or his dirty mouth. Rambo came to Freedom from Kansas years before to fight bulls at the Freedom Rodeo. He never left. Collectively, Cheyenne imagined they would have made great characters on any reality television show. She likened them to the actors in Cheers.

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The bar regulars each had their own life stories to tell. They would tell them over and over again. Cheyenne never wanted to disappoint them by reminding them she'd already heard their story. She'd listen patiently as the gang in the Saloon discussed their various life situations. She sometimes joined in as they sang sad country songs, shot a game of pool, two-stepped around the floor, and drank several bottles of Spike’s ice-cold beer.

She realized early on, she couldn’t keep up with the bar regulars when it came to drinking beer. They drank her under the table. She'd never been much of a beer drinker. No matter how hard she tried to drink them down, she had her limit. One night, to no avail, she attempted to keep up with the beer-drinking boys. It was close to midnight when her head hit the bar. Rowdy carried her out to the pickup and drove her home. Cheyenne, more often than not, was the one who drove him home. They drove South over dirt back roads to avoid any run-in with the law. Cheyenne never saw the law around when she drove, but Rowdy assured her, they were out there.

Many things went on in Freedom Cheyenne believed didn’t happen anywhere else in the world. The only entertainment in town was the Freedom Saloon. She could always count on a town drunk to put on a show. Just for fun, one night Rambo came into the bar wearing nothing but a pair of leather chaps. He let everything hang out. Rambo had no shame. Anything to cause a reaction seemed to be the norm. It wasn’t unusual to see a drunken cowboy ride his horse through the front door. Cheyenne admired

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Lonnie’s spunk. She'd show them the back door, barring them from ever drinking in her establishment again. The cowboys knew how to sweet-talk Lonnie, and within days, she’d forgive their idiot antics and welcome them back. Cheyenne admired Lonnie’s patience and sense of fairness.

Cheyenne was deeply saddened to learn of Spike’s passing. He went peacefully sitting in his recliner at home early one evening. She imagined it was most likely his smoking that killed him. Cheyenne missed the friendly old bar keep. Lonnie’s normal cheerful disposition changed after his death. Spike was the love of her life! The Freedom Saloon went downhill when Spike died. It just wasn’t the same. When Lonnie passed a few years later, Cheyenne took comfort knowing she was happy joining Spike in Heaven.

In no time, Cheyenne knew everyone in Freedom. She learned to adjust to their way of thinking. She learned to talk the tough talk and walk the rough walk. Her adopted southern drawl came naturally, even though she only used it when she was in Oklahoma. Cheyenne tried to blend in, though occasionally a bitter local would put her in her place, and remind her she was an outsider.

Cheyenne knew her limits. She knew just how long she could stay in the small town before it was time to get away. Despite the good times, she sometimes felt a strong urge to escape back to her privileged life in the city. She feared if she stayed in Freedom too long, without taking a break, she’d become one of the natives.

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Rowdy’s Uncle Jake was President of the small local bank. Although he was near ninety, Jake fancied himself a humble and smart fellow. Jake Harrison had a phony way of making the customer feel important. In her mind, he was a fake. Cheyenne trusted her intuition, sensing he felt superior. He considered himself a better man than his nephew Rowdy, or his older brother, Wilbur.

The sly banker had his supporters. His family loved and respected him, but there was something about the old man Cheyenne didn’t trust. They borrowed money to buy a load of yearlings in the spring. When she signed the loan documents, she felt like she signed away a piece of her soul. Dealing with Jake made her nervous. She sensed he would foreclose on the cattle note if he had the chance. On the rare occasion she was overdrawn on the business account, or was late making a loan payment, Jake would call before seven o’clock in the morning demanding she get into the bank immediately, and bring money. He was unforgiving. Jake was hard on her. She considered her dealings with him a lesson in life. Doing business with the old banker unfortunately was a necessity.

Jake should have handed over the bank management to his son. However he didn’t want to give up control. His unwillingness to retire was a way to stay involved in the community. Jake enjoyed the power he held over the residents of the small town.

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There was no doubt in her mind. The old man’s bank played an important role over the years in the prosperity, and survivability, of the town of Freedom.

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CHAPTER SIX

Cheyenne was aware of Rowdy’s growing dissatisfaction with his business partners. When she was away, he kept her informed, over the phone, about what went on at the ranch. He'd call daily to talk about the bucking bulls and life in general. She’d listen as he described in detail what went into their training. He'd explain vividly how the bulls bucked, whether they went to the right or the left, how high they kicked and which local cowboy they had thrown in the dirt. Rowdy bragged about which bulls he believed would make it to the National Finals in December. She guessed it would only be a matter of time before he would ask her to invest in his game. Rowdy was setting her up for the kill.

The Freedom partners continued to struggle. Rowdy boldly asked her to put money into the venture. He wanted to buy out his partners and he knew Cheyenne had the capital to do it. She was concerned about taking the risk, but it was exciting to think she’d be involved in a business she’d been around in her younger years. The idea of being a female involved in the bucking bull business, and the sport of rodeo, intrigued her. There were few

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women involved in the business primarily dominated by men. Being adventurous, and enjoying living life on the edge, Cheyenne gave in to Rowdy’s demands. He’d found himself a sucker.

Rodeo was in her blood, having been exposed to the sport at a very young age. She’d spent many childhood days visiting her Grandpa Leo’s ranch in Washington State. Leo was a successful, respected rodeo stock contractor. Many weekends in her youth were spent attending his rodeos. She lived a ranch from the time she was born until she was ten years old. Her father, Bart Robinson was killed when his single-engine plane crashed into a mountainside as he flew home from the Ellensburg Rodeo. Bart was a world-champion cowboy. If he had lived Cheyenne would have been a real cowgirl. The family rodeo connection contributed to her love of the sport; especially the bull riding. Grandpa Leo was proud of his rodeo stock. As a young girl, she loved watching him work with his bulls behind the scenes at rodeos.

Although she had a fondness for horses, Cheyenne rarely rode. She both feared and respected the four legged beasts. The trepidation came from the photographs she'd seen of her father riding bareback at rodeos. Many of the old black and white photos showed him being thrown from the back of a bucking horse. When she was four years old, Bart bought her a pony. She named him Strawberry. When Bart was killed, her mother sold the ranch, and the pony.

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She remembered her Grandpa Leo saying, “Cheyenne, a bullpen is no place for a lady!” She imagined she was pestering him when he said it. Following her grandpa around the rodeo grounds like his shadow, she was proud to be his relation.

When Rowdy insisted she become his new partner. Putting her fears aside, and her faith in God, she jumped in hook, line and sinker. Cheyenne’s background was in business. Naively, she didn’t expect the bull venture to be any different than other businesses she’d been involved in. Preparing a partnership agreement, she showed Rowdy where to sign.

Suggesting they name the corporation after Rowdy, she hoped it would give him a sense of pride. They discussed various brands to use on their bulls. Rowdy insisted on a large A sitting on a rocker. Cheyenne agreed. She liked the sound of “Rocking A.”

They had been lovers for nine months. Rowdy had everything he wanted. Partners in every way, Cheyenne shared his enthusiasm for the bull business. She trustingly assumed the cowboy had the knowledge to make her dream of having a world-class herd of bucking bulls, come true. He promised one day, they would be rich and famous; that he’d produce the best herd of bucking bulls in the world. She believed him. Cheyenne loved the idea. Her court awarded alimony provided a generous monthly allowance. She used it to finance the partnership. She was the money man; Rowdy professed to be the expert.

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Cheyenne had soon invested tens of thousands of dollars. The bucking bulls were an expensive hobby. Hoping to be number one in the industry someday, she innocently relied on Rowdy’s promises. Registering as stock contractors for the Professional Bull Riders Association, she prayed it wouldn’t take long for the investment to pay off. The PBR was fast becoming a huge success. The association promised its contractors the world and Cheyenne was proud to be a part of it all.

She was furious the day she discovered Rowdy kept a third of the seventy-five thousand dollars she'd paid to buy out his partners. She'd been taken advantage of after only a few months. Screaming and yelling, she carried on like a wild Indian on the war path.

“You're a frigging crook, Rowdy Harrison! This will be absolutely the last time you'll take advantage of me. You’re a thief I can’t believe you’d do such an awful thing!” She wondered if she should get out now, before it was too late.

The incident left a bad taste in her mouth, she was suddenly afraid she’d made huge mistake.

“Don’t yell at me? I'm not a crook! I told you I was going to keep a third of the money!” Rowdy was red in the face. Clinching a fist closed, he shook it at her. The cowboy knew he’d been found out, but he refused to admit any wrongdoing.

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“That’s a frigging lie. You never told me you’d be cutting yourself in for part of the money! Return the twenty-five thousand. Unless you repay me you don’t own a damned thing! I own it all. I don’t want to be involved with someone I can’t trust. I thought I could trust you, Rowdy. Of all people, why would you try to screw me out of money? This is criminal. I should have you thrown in jail!” Cheyenne felt like she’d been run over by a Mack truck. She knew that Ryan would have never deceived her in that way. She thought. What a mess I’ve gotten myself into!

“Baby, please, I’ve got bills to pay. I need the money.” Rowdy begged.

“If I have my way, you can rot in jail. What do you intend to do about it? If you’re so damned broke, sign a note payable to me for money you stole. I’ll consider it a loan. That’s the only way we'll ever be partners!” Giving him a dirty look, she turned away in anger and disgust.

“Write it up. Show me where to sign!” he nervously agreed.

Cheyenne prepared a promissory note with ten percent interest. Rowdy signed. He had no choice. Unfortunately, he never paid her back. It was one of many times the deceiving cowboy took advantage of her good nature; and wallet.

Throughout the years, she gave him the money he insisted he needed to sustain his lifestyle. Rowdy never repaid the money he owed. The gigolo cowboy was a sweet talking fool. He knew he had a good thing going. She

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was a vulnerable divorcee who wanted to feel loved. Having never been exposed to a free loader like Rowdy, she had no idea what a wild ride he intended to take her on. The outcome may have been different, if he had been honest with her from the beginning. She would have run the other way. The hard-hearted cowboy was out to take her for a financial ride. She wanted to trust him, but she realized--this wasn't Rowdy first rodeo!

Cheyenne wasn’t one to back out on a commitment. What choice did she have? She’d made her bed, and now she’d have to lie in it. She held on to the idea that if she worked hard enough, she’d eventually get her money back. Sadly as her days in Freedom slowly passed by she only got in deeper.

When she asked, Ryan shipped two new Ford trucks to the ranch. Feeling guilty for being unfaithful, at that time, he gave her anything she wanted. He wanted her to stay away so he could cook the books and hide assets.

Shortly after the trucks arrived, Cheyenne bought two twenty-four-foot metal Sooner stock trailers with Rocking A Rodeo painted on the sides. She was officially in the bucking bull business. It wasn’t long before she discovered the difference between truth, and bull shit.

Happy to have found a new hand, Rowdy taught her about ranching and farming. He was especially excited about the prospect of having her help him with the farming.

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He surprised her one morning when said he was going to teach her how to drive the tractor. He danced around the ancient bunkhouse singing--hidee ho and away we go! Getting caught up in his enthusiasm, Cheyenne joined in. Hastily pulling on her jeans and boots, she was eager to learn something new.

“I have a Ford tractor at the beach house on Samish. Does the John Deere run like a Ford?” They made small talk, as they cruised along a dirt road on their way to the wheat field. “Relax, Cheyenne, It’s easy. I’ll show you everything you need to know when we get there! If I can do it, so can you.”

When they arrived at the field, Rowdy climbed aboard and cranked the starter. The diesel engine started and heavy black smoke blew from its stack. He pulled Cheyenne up into the cab. He showed her how to change the gears, where the gas pedal was, and how to adjust the seat; then he pointed to where he wanted her to plow. She rushed him through the instructions. After all, she thought. I know how to drive a riding lawnmower. Driving this big tractor can’t be much different. She enjoyed mowing the grass on the five acres on Samish Island.

“This will be fun! I can handle it. It’s a piece of cake!" She yelled hoping her voice could be heard over the roar of the tractor. “Get going. Let me be!” She was anxious to begin.

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Assuming she'd paid attention to his instructions on maintaining the terraces, Rowdy jumped down from the cab and waved good-bye.

“Okay baby! She’s all yours! I’ll be back around noon. I’ll bring lunch!” He whistled as he walked away.

She hadn’t understood his orders about the terraces. Assuming she was doing him a favor, she put the old tractor into high gear, and stepped on the gas. Slowly going around the fence line, she’d turn and make her way back toward the middle of the field. When she reached the barbwire fence she’d start back the other way. Cheyenne felt a sense of accomplishment, and pride, knowing she was helping her man get the farming done.

Rowdy didn’t return to the field until after two o’clock that afternoon. The methodical humming of the tractor and the gentle bumps as she mowed over the terraces, relaxed her. She let her mind wander briefly to the life she’d had with Ryan. She remembered how she’d loved him unconditionally. Forcing old memories from her mind, she got back to reality. Plowing on she hoped to finish the monotonous job before Rowdy returned with lunch.

When he wasn’t back by noon, Cheyenne worried he’d forgotten about her. She wondered where he was. She thought. This job is a little monotonous! The lazy fool probably went back to bed. Hopefully he'll be

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satisfied with what I've done in such a short time. Leaving the tractor in high gear, she rolled back and forth across the red dirt field.

When Rowdy returned, he saw Cheyenne had mowed the entire field. She'd pulled the tractor up alongside the road and shut down the diesel engine, pleased she'd completed the job in a little less than six hours. Seeing her lean up against the tractor wheel, he thought. Oh shit! She may have broken down. I should have checked on her earlier. The closer Rowdy got, the more upset he was. Pulling the pickup truck up next to her, he rolled down the window.

“Jesus Christ woman! What have you done? You’ve ruined the terraces! This job should've taken you about three days! You did it all wrong! Damn it!” he screamed.

Seeing the fire flare up in Cheyenne’s blue eyes as he scolded her, he thought. She must have put the pedal to the metal. He worried she could have blown the engine. Taking several deep breaths, Rowdy apologized.

“I’m sorry, baby! I guess I didn’t explain it to you good enough. Don’t worry about it! I’ll just have to redo the terraces. Calm down!”

Red in the face, he thought. Yeah, like when will I have time to redo the damned terraces?

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Cheyenne realized she'd messed up. She was disappointed to see Rowdy take it so seriously. It wasn’t like him. He was usually in a happy-go-lucky mood, but not today.

“I’ve worked my ass off, cowboy! I’m tired, and I'm hungry! Where the hell’s my lunch?” she asked with a snarl.

Rowdy threw her a plastic bread sack containing a dry bologna sandwich, and a handful of potato chips. Glaring his way, she tore open the bread sack and wolfed down the sandwich. Shaking his head, Rowdy muttered to himself.

Choking down the last bite, she thought. Screw you! Find yourself another farm hand!

Cheyenne was angry and hurt. She began to sob uncontrollably. The tears rolled down her face. She’d been proud of her work. She assumed he would be happy she’d finished so soon. She thought. How dare the bastard give me hell!

Rowdy let her cry. Assessing the damage, he walked over what was once terraced farm land. Returning to where she stood, a few minutes later, he saw red mud roll down her tear-stained face.

“I’m sorry I ruined the damned terraces. Don’t ask me to drive the tractor again!” She wailed her pretty face a muddy mess.

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Wiping away her tears, Rowdy suddenly felt sorry for her. After all, she was a city girl, what did she know about farming. “I know you didn’t understand. I should have explained things better. I'll take care of it. Don't worry! I know you're sorry. Trust me it’s okay!” He hugged her close, staring at the messed up terraces over her shoulder.

Helping his enraged farm hand into the truck, they drove away. Minutes from the wheat field, they saw another pickup truck slow down and come to a stop, partially blocking the roadway. Rowdy’s grouchy neighbor, Jack Martin, was driving. Slowly rolling the window down, Jack added fuel to the fire. He said with a broad grin, “Shit, Rowdy! Where can I find me a hand like that?”

Assuming the fat neighbor was making fun of the way she’d plowed the field, Rowdy smiled. The old neighbor was being his normal jack ass self. He didn’t like Jack. He wasn’t in any mood for sarcasm. Rolling up his truck window, Rowdy backed up. Spinning around, he barely missed Jack’s truck as he sped away without responding to the neighbor’s caustic remarks. Rowdy slammed his foot down on the accelerator. He drove away fast, leaving Jack choking in a huge cloud of dust. They heard the old man chuckle, like a crazed hyena, as they drove away. Rowdy didn’t like being made a fool of, especially by the fat, smart-mouthed neighbor.

They reached the highway, laughing hysterically when she recalled the look on Jack’s face after they left him in the dust. Forgetting about the

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farming mistake, when they got to the bunkhouse, they raced inside. Making up was always fun. They spent the rest of the day tucked away under the heavy covers in the old antique bed. They made love, hearing the north wind blow outside.

A few months before, they leased a parcel of grazing land just south of Rowdy's parents’ ranch. The property was known by locals as Nigger Hill as its sole inhabitant was a colored man who’d lived and died there many years before. Their landlord was a known gambler. He’d won the acreage in a game of poker. Rowdy speculated their landlord may have been involved with the Mafia. Cheyenne believed the stories he told, as she had no way to verify anything different. She scolded him for calling the land Nigger Hill, but everyone in town called it Nigger Hill. Cheyenne referred to the leased land as The Hill. Rowdy continually tried to supplement his income there in any way he could. He’d rent it out to hunters during hunting season, and sometimes allowed friends run cattle on it.

Early one spring, Rowdy tried turning the property into a pot farm. He had a friend in Oklahoma City who enjoyed smoking pot. The friend thought Rowdy had the ideal situation to grow the illegal marijuana, and he sent him a supply of seeds. Cheyenne disapproved of the idea. She cringed when the seeds arrived in the mail a few days later. Rowdy’s friend called, “You grow it, I’ll pay you top dollar! I only want enough for my own personal use. It’s no big deal! The law won’t come after you. If they do, I’ll bail you out of

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jail.” Rowdy saw the situation as an opportunity to make money. Although he wasn’t a pot smoker himself, he planted the seeds and hoped for the best.

Cheyenne was convinced, by then, Rowdy had two definite problems. He was always looking for an easy way to make money; and he had a tough time saying no to anyone, no matter how crazy things were.

Driving to Wal-Mart, he bought potting soil, and a supply of small planting pots. Once he planted the marijuana seeds, he hid the pots behind his father’s barn. For the next several days, Rowdy babysat the plants like they were a vegetable garden. When the seedlings were about two inches high, he loaded them onto the bed of his farm truck. He was afraid Shane would find them. He asked Cheyenne to ride along to The Hill to plant the new crop.

“Nigger Hill is so isolated no one will know I’m growing pot there.” He laughed as they drove.

“Whatever! Take a chance, but don’t expect me to stand up for you when you get caught.” Cheyenne was angry. She thought. What a stupid idea!

Rowdy methodically planted the crop. When they returned a few days later, they found the grazing cattle had trampled the pot farm. Rowdy couldn’t believe his bad luck. He was devastated by the small financial loss. Cheyenne consoled him.

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“Cheer up Rowdy! Your luck hasn’t been worth a damn lately. God has his way of righting a wrong! Consider it just another bad day on the farm.” She was happy it hadn’t worked out

It was the end of Rowdy’s attempt at illegal pot farming. When he'd first said he was going to grow marijuana, she'd laughed. “How much money do you think you’ll make? Is it worth the risk of going to jail? What would your Mother say?”

She didn’t believe he'd taken pot growing seriously. She was glad when the operation failed. He was crazy for even considering such a get-rich-quick scheme.

"Desperate people do desperate things!" she said out loud.

Rowdy’s short-lived career as a pot farmer was their dirty little secret. Like most of the farming he did, he never made any money at it.

Rowdy ran several head of cattle on The Hill, but there was very little water on the property. The leased land was covered with steep canyons, and tons of rock. Cheyenne thought it was a waste of money to pay the annual lease payments, but they continued to pay the rent. Rowdy wasn’t willing to give up any land to his neighbors. There was no question about it. He would continue to lease the land on The Hill, no matter what the cost.

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Shortly before hunting season began one fall, they drove to The Hill to scout for deer.

“You go down the draw, and I’ll come up the other side. We’ll meet in the middle! Look for deer tracks. Let me know if you see anything!” Rowdy was serious.

He’d leased the land to hunters and wanted to confirm there were deer there for them to hunt. Loving a new adventure, Cheyenne agreed to go along.

“Show me what the tracks look like. I’ll do it,” she agreed.

Setting off alone, she walked hastily down the draw. She was cautious, and somewhat nervous about the possibility of running into a wild animal. There were coyotes, cougars and many other dangerous animals on the property. Determined to do a fine job of scouting, Cheyenne’s eyes moved in all directions; and upon the dusty ground in front of her. Within minutes, she came upon several large animal tracks in the red dirt. There were a wide variety of paw and hoof tracks.

“Get over here! There are all kinds of tracks! It must be an entire herd of something! Come tell me what you think they are!” Seeing Rowdy come up the draw, she heard him shout and wave his arms wildly in the air.

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“Get out of there! Run to the pickup! Hurry! Get your ass out of there!” he screamed waving his arms into the air. Scared out of her skin, Cheyenne didn’t wait for further instruction. Sprinting toward the pickup truck, she saw Rowdy run straight up the hill behind her. He continued to shout and wave.

“Get in the truck! Don’t look back! Get in the pickup! We’ve got to get out of here!”

Reaching the truck, she was out of breath. Frantically tearing open the door, she pulled herself inside. Jumping in beside her, Rowdy appeared pale and nervous. Relieved to have made it to the pickup without being attacked, she grabbed on to him and held him tight.

“What in the hell were we running from? I looked, there was nothing behind you! What have you been smoking?” she asked with big eyes.

She saw nothing had chased them up the hill, but she trusted Rowdy.

“Those were wild pig tracks! I spotted a herd of them coming your way on the other side of the hill. They’re dangerous. They would've eaten us alive! Many hunters have died after being attacked by wild pigs! We need to get going! I’ll explain everything later! Trust me!” Hiding a grin, he was out of breath.

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Starting the pickup truck, he threw it into reverse. Stomping on the gas pedal, Rowdy spun the truck wildly around in a circle. Flying toward the dirt road they drove in on, they sped away, red dust billowing up behind them. He continued to yell like a madman. Cheyenne hung on for dear life. The pickup truck leapt into the air, bouncing high as it hit the ruts and rocks on the dirt roadway. Cheyenne wanted to believe the story about the wild pigs. Skeptical, she thanked him for saving her life.

When they got to the paved highway, Rowdy slowed the truck down. "What would you do without me, baby? I just saved your life!” He laughed hysterically. “Are you ready for a cold one? Can you reach the cooler, baby?” Rowdy tried to wipe the smile from his face. Always a practical joker, he loved pulling one over on her.

“No problem, cowboy! I’ll get you a beer! Do you know you're my hero?” Cheyenne laughed out loud.

“It sounds like a song to me.” He laughed, and guzzled down the beer.

They drove back to Freedom. She was entertained along the way listening to Rowdy tell more tall tales about wild boars, and other dangerous animals, he'd encountered from time to time growing up there.

They stopped at a truck repair shop in town to pick up a tractor Rowdy had left there for repairs. “Drive the pickup and follow me to the ranch. I’ll drive the tractor home.”

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Driving the tractor slowly away, he saw Cheyenne talking to the man at the repair shop. He imagined she was telling him the story about the wild pigs. He laughed out loud, like a madman, when he saw the old man scratch his head. He heard the confused old man say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, miss. There are no wild pigs anywhere near Freedom!”

Climbing into the pickup, Cheyenne saw Rowdy laugh. Shaking her fist, she mouthed, “You're so full of shit!” Driving away, she saw the old man shake his head, as if to say--what planet did she come from? Rowdy nodded his head and threw both hands in the air. She read his lips. Trust me, baby! She had no choice, but to trust him.

Cheyenne was spending more and more time in Freedom. She thought less and less about Ryan, and the turmoil going on in Washington. Time spent with Rowdy, and his family, replaced the life she'd once known with her own family. She missed them. She knew they all had their own lives to live. They were grown and gone. It was the first time, in a very long time Cheyenne had no one to worry about, except herself.

Hunting season came and went. Shane killed three deer and hung them in the barn to bleed. Meat was plentiful that winter. The freezer was full of beef from the bulls they butchered. Unfortunately, way too often a young bull was injured, and they put him down. It was expensive beef. It was better to butcher the injured bulls than to let the meat go to waste. Bull meat made great-tasting hamburger. Making room in the crowded freezer for Shane’s

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butchered deer, Cheyenne vowed she'd eat the beef. The men could have the venison!

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CHAPTER SEVEN

Rowdy’s elderly parents, Wilbur and Arlene Harrison were Cheyenne’s good friends, and greatest allies. They welcomed her into their home, and onto their ranch. They made her feel like one of the family. She loved them, and they loved her in return. She sensed knowing them made her appreciate her own life even more.

The dear, sweet couple had survived many of life’s struggles. They weren’t wealthy in the sense Cheyenne knew wealth. They were rich in many other areas of their lives. They were proud, loving, Christian people. It was an honor to know them. Cheyenne recognized they were strict parents to their son. She gave them credit for the loving man he had become.

Cheyenne had many exciting adventures on the ranch. One day in in the early spring, when the television and country radio stations were continuously interrupting broadcasts with warnings of extremely high winds, and fire danger. Wilbur nearly set the world on fire. She’d spent the morning

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in the neighboring town of Woodward, running errands for Rowdy. When she drove back to the ranch going north on highway 50, she saw dark black smoke billow high in the sky. Getting closer to the ranch, she saw the cause of the huge smoke cloud. Wilbur, Rowdy's ninety-year-old, hard of hearing, partially blind, daddy was on his riding lawn mower. He slowly drove along the dirt road leading to the ranch. Wilbur lit the prairie grass afire as he drove; never looking back to see the damage he’d caused.

“That’s insane!” she screamed.

She tried calling Rowdy on his cell phone. When he didn’t answer, she dialed the fire department. She felt helpless seeing the destruction the old man was causing with his torch. Wilbur continued to light the fires and move deliberately toward the ranch. The power and telephone poles burned and fell down behind him. The fields were on fire. It resembled a war zone. Wilbur had recently given up driving his farm trucks because of failing eyesight. He had taken to using his riding lawn mower to get around the ranch. Sadly, Wilbur was oblivious to the destruction as he rolled forward. Not looking back, he lit the fires seemingly believing, he was doing something useful to help out on the farm.

Cheyenne was relieved to hear the sirens. She watched the fire trucks descend upon the scene. Wilbur was embarrassed and shocked when the firemen approached. They screamed at him to stop lighting fires. Several

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weeks later, Wilbur received large bills from the telephone and power companies asking him to pay for the cost of replacing the burned poles.

The day Wilbur gave up his car keys, and stopped driving, was a tormenting day of discovery for him. He’d spent the day driving through the farm’s fields, making sure the tractors were rolling, and the harvesting was getting done. Driving down a dirt road into a wheat field, he ran straight into the rear end of a farm truck stopped on the roadway. He wasn’t physically injured in the accident. It took a tremendous toll on Wilbur’s pride when he gave the truck keys to Rowdy.

“I’m done driving, son.” The old farmer appeared sad and defeated.

Wilbur’s eye sight had been failing for some time. He had limited vision from the corners of his eyes, but couldn’t see anything straight on. It was devastating for him to give up his independence, and stop driving around his ranch land.

Within days after he stopped driving, he encouraged his wife, Arlene to drive him around the ranch. The old couple went out each evening to see the progress being made on the new oil well being drilled in their pasture, across the highway from the ranch. They were excited like children, about the oil and gas wells being drilled on their land. They looked forward to the financial gain they would receive from the wells.

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Wilbur was a frugal man. When the checks came in the mail from the oil company, the money went straight to the bank. Wilbur would sometimes ask Cheyenne to take the checks to the bank. He would have her direct his shaking hand to where he endorsed the checks, and she’d helped by holding the pen steady on the spot where he needed to sign his name.

Although Wilbur wasn’t a wealthy man, he had an extremely generous side. He was forever writing checks to be handed out to his children, his grandchildren, or their foster kids, for their birthdays and Christmas. They all came around, especially at Christmas time, to pick up the money. Even though she rarely saw the foster kids visit the ranch any time other than Christmas, Cheyenne believed they truly cared for Wilbur and Arlene. They raised their own four kids on a meager farm income, taking in several foster kids. Wilbur or Arlene loved them all equally. They were a caring and loving couple.

Before Arlene became extremely ill with Alzheimer’s, she and Wilbur would sit together on warm summer evenings on the old dusty wooden front porch swing. They would hold hands and appear to be very much in love and content with their lot in life.

When on a rare occasion a car or pickup would pull into the ranch driveway, Arlene, who was by then in the early stages of Alzheimer’s, served Wilbur’s eyes. He’d ask, “Mom, who is it?” If she knew, Arlene would say who was there, and what was happening. She was his eyes, and

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toward the end, he was her brain. They worked together well. They were inseparable during those final years. Cheyenne was enthralled by their love affair. She couldn’t help, but wish she too might one day know their special kind of love.

Arlene was a nice-looking, strong, farm woman. Cheyenne felt privileged to have met her, before the disease took over her body and mind. There were days Cheyenne tried to escape Arlene, and her inquisitive mind, by locking herself in the bunkhouse. Closed curtains and locked doors didn’t sit well with Arlene. She would knock loudly. She’d holler and pester until she finally got in.

Cheyenne often laughed at the way Arlene made her way through the bunkhouse, picking up things along the way and insisting they belonged to her. The old woman carried away anything she could put into her pockets. Cheyenne would sometimes follow her out the door when she left the bunkhouse. She would watch her take the stolen booty up the stairs into the old farmhouse and look for a place to hide it. Rather than scolding Arlene for taking something that didn’t belong to her, it was easier to follow her into the farmhouse and retrieve the stolen merchandise. Arlene had no idea what she was doing was wrong.

The elderly woman was alone a lot. She would roam aimlessly around the farm when the men were out in the fields or otherwise gone for the day. She would pick up sticks in the yard as though collecting firewood.

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One day in early spring, Arlene drove her old Taurus station wagon into Freedom. She came upon a hitchhiker who flagged her down. She stopped to pick up the rough-looking guy and asked him where he was going. When he said he was going to Kansas, without giving it a thought, Arlene drove him thirty-five miles into Kansas. When she dropped him off she called home from a pay phone to tell Wilbur what she’d done, and that she was on her way home. Shortly after the hitchhiker incident the family decided it wasn’t safe for Arlene to drive anymore, and they hid her car keys.

One day Rowdy and Cheyenne returned to the ranch from a trip to the feed store in Freedom, to find Arlene alone in the bullpen with several of their meanest bulls. Holding a long switch in her hand, she tapped the bulls on the nose. God must have been watching out for Arlene that afternoon. The bulls didn’t find her threatening, allowing her to walk out of the pen without charging. Arlene realized she was in trouble when she heard Rowdy call for her to get the hell out of there. She saw him run to her rescue. Arlene muttered under her breath. Those darn steers won't get outta here!

Rowdy and Wilbur left for the wheat fields early one morning and Rowdy asked Cheyenne to watch after Arlene. “Be sure Mom doesn’t drive the car.” Later that morning the phone rang in the bunkhouse. Rowdy called to ask Cheyenne to bring a wrench to him in the wheat field. “Drive the red farm truck and meet me at the tree row field.” He explained, “The truck has two gas tanks. One is near empty and the other is full of gas. You may need

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to switch gas tanks to make it here.” Cheyenne had carefully listened to Rowdy’s instructions, but she wasn’t sure she’d properly switched to the full gas tank.

Just as Cheyenne was about to drive away, Arlene walked up behind her. “What are you doing? Where are you going with my truck?” she asked.

“Rowdy called. He wants me to bring him a tool to the field. His tractor broke down.” Cheyenne wished she’d gotten out of there before Arlene discovered her.

The inquisitive old woman insisted she ride along. Five miles down the road, they ran out of gas. Arlene became extremely upset. She ranted and raved like she’d lost her mind. Cheyenne tried to remain calm. “It will be okay, Arlene. Wait here in the truck. I’ll walk back to the ranch and get some gas. I won’t be gone long.” Cheyenne was concerned for her safety. The old farm woman scared the hell out of her when she was angry.

Eighty-year-old Arlene refused to listen. She insisted, “I’ll walk with you. You’re not leaving me here alone in this broken down truck.”

Just as Cheyenne was seriously considering tying the stubborn woman to the steering wheel, and locking her in the pickup, Jed Ward and his good- looking son drove up. “What are you two up to?” Jed asked. Cheyenne explained they were out of gas. “I’ve got five gallons here in my truck. It is

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more than enough to get you back to the ranch.” Jed said with a friendly grin.

His son poured the gas into the tank. Jed smiled when he saw Arlene walk around his truck and peek into the cab. She reached in, picked up a baseball cap, and put it on her head. “The hat looks good on you, Arlene. Keep it,” Jed smiled seeing Arlene finally calm down. The happy thief patted her new hat like a child. Thanking Jed for the gas, Cheyenne started the truck as Arlene climbed inside. Turning around in the middle of the road, she headed back to the ranch. Arlene was upset again. “I want to find Rowdy! I’ll spank your sweet city ass. Turn this truck around! We’re not going back to the ranch!"

Although she tried to stay calm, Cheyenne feared she was losing her cool. Even though Arlene was eighty years old, she was as strong as an ox. Cheyenne worried that Arlene would follow through with her threats. Taking her chances, she decided to ignore Arlene’s outburst. She drove back to the ranch in a hurry. She was anxious to get away from the mad woman, and to be alone. Days like this made her wonder what she was thinking. Life in Freedom could drive anyone stark raving nuts.

She sped down the driveway and parked the feed truck in front of the old farmhouse. She helped Arlene out of the truck and saw her suddenly sprint toward the old Taurus, Cheyenne moved swiftly. She was just steps ahead of the mad woman. Yanking open the car door, Cheyenne snatched the keys

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out of the ignition. Keys firmly in hand, she took off in a dead run toward the bunkhouse. She saw Arlene was right behind her swinging a switch she’d picked up in the yard. Swearing, and waving the stick in the air, she insisted over and over, that Cheyenne drop the keys. Ignoring the threats, Cheyenne ran fast down the hill with Arlene close behind. Out of breath, she reached the bunkhouse door. Wrenching it open, she jumped inside. Slamming the door behind her, a frightened Cheyenne locked the dead bolt and pulled down the shades. She prayed Arlene would forget about the keys and go away. The old gal behaved like a mad cow. She cussed and screamed loud as she pounded on the bunkhouse door. Cheyenne dialed the phone hoping Rowdy would pick up. Where was he when she needed him? When he didn’t answer by the fifth ring, she hunkered down and tried to ignore his mother’s madness. Cheyenne trembled, moving around the kitchen trying to be as quiet as a mouse. She knew that day the last person she wanted mad at her was, Arlene Harrison. Rowdy was right when he’d warned her to watch out for his Mom if she was angry. He’d said she had quite a temper. That was an understatement.

It seemed like an hour passed before Arlene finally gave up and stomped away. Cheyenne was relieved when she saw her go up the stairs and enter the farmhouse. Cheyenne spent the rest of the day confined to the bunkhouse, with the doors locked tight. Keeping the television low, and the lights turned off, she worried Arlene would return with ammunition.

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Finally hearing Rowdy’s truck drive down the driveway, a few hours later, she was pleased he was home. Rushing to the door, a worried Cheyenne sprung it open. Seeing Rowdy wave his hands in the air, she heard him yell for her to shut the door. Cheyenne didn’t understand why he was upset. She worried maybe Arlene was on her way back down the stairs to kick her ass.

The telephone rang, and when Cheyenne answered she heard Rowdy say, “There’s a rabid skunk by the front door. Hurry and give me the shot gun, through the back bedroom window.”

She thought. As if my day hasn’t been crazy enough, a skunk on the porch puts the frosting on the cake! She’d never heard of a rabid skunk. Opening the bedroom window, she handed him the gun and saw him run toward the front door. Seconds later, she heard a loud blast, and felt the bunkhouse shudder.

Entering the bunkhouse through the bedroom window, Rowdy found a broken woman crying hysterically. Cheyenne sobbed out loud as she explained just how bad the day had been. The sound of the shot gun blast and the skunk smell on the front porch didn’t bother the old farm woman. Seeing Rowdy was home, Arlene was back at the door knocking persistently and trying to get inside.

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“Open this damned door! Let me in there now! Where’s the mean girl who took my car keys?” Infuriated, she screamed uncontrollably.

Glaring at Rowdy with eyes of steel, Cheyenne thrust a closed fist into the air, “Don’t you dare let her in here!”

Crawling out the bedroom window, Rowdy met his mother on the porch. Enticing her away from the dead skunk, Rowdy was gentle with her. Whatever he said seemed to calm the old woman down. Cheyenne saw them walk together arm in arm to the front of the farm house.

Within minutes he was back. Taking Cheyenne into his arms, he apologized for the way her day had gone. Holding her quivering chin in his fingertips, he tilted her tear stained face up to his.

“We’re taking the folks into town tonight for the groundhog day pancake supper at the church. Please pull yourself together! Everything will be okay! Mom would never hurt you. I had no choice but to shoot the skunk. He had rabies. There was no other way. I apologize for scaring you! Trust me, baby, things will work out!”

Cheyenne knew it wasn’t the time or the place to be a crybaby. “If you only knew how bad it was, Rowdy. It was possibly the worst day of my life! What in the hell does a city girl wear to a groundhog’s day supper?”

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“You know I appreciate everything you do around here. Mom can be difficult, I know.” Hearing his apology didn’t make her feel much better. Shaking her head, she turned and walked into the bedroom. Slamming the door shut behind her, she changed into a warm flannel shirt, and clean jeans. She thought. How appropriate. There’s dead skunk at the front door, and now we’re going into town to eat ground hog! What’s next?

Rowdy showered and was ready in minutes. Walking toward the pickup, he thanked her for understanding the situation. He honked the horn as they drove up in front of the farmhouse and waited for his parents to come out. Seeing them approach, Cheyenne saw the angry look on Arlene’s face. She knew she hadn’t forgotten about the car keys. Rowdy saw Cheyenne shudder. “Trust me, baby! Mom’s not going to hurt you. Everything will be just fine!” Ignoring his comments, she prepared to defend herself. Arlene stomped and held back like a stubborn mule. She refused to get into the truck. Wilbur held Arlene’s hand and gently pulled her toward the truck. “Come on, Mom. Don’t be silly. Be reasonable now. You know you can’t drive the car anymore. I told Cheyenne to take your keys. Let’s go into town with the kids. We don’t want to be late for supper!” Arlene stubbornly got into the truck. With Wilbur sitting along her, they made the drive to Freedom in uncomfortable silence. Cheyenne worried that Arlene would smack her on the head. The traditional ground hog supper in Freedom, is in actuality a pancake feed at the local church. The evening went better than Cheyenne thought it would. Arlene enjoyed seeing her old friends and

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neighbors. She seemed to forget about the car keys as the evening passed by and they returned to the ranch.

If she knew Cheyenne was alone in the bunkhouse, Arlene would come to visit every day. Sometimes Cheyenne would lock the door and avoid the loud knocking, just to keep her own sanity.

Cheyenne would watch the old woman go up and down the stairs several times a day. If she found the bunkhouse door locked, Arlene would pound on the door and peer into the windows. She’d scream, “Are you in there? Let me in! Who’s in there? What are you kids doing in there?” If Arlene saw Rowdy come in for lunch, she’d scurry down stairs and rush through the door right behind him. Arlene’s strange actions, unfortunately, were a direct result of her worsening dementia.

Rowdy’s nine-year-old daughter Sally lived with her mother during the school year. She stayed on the ranch during summer vacations and on holidays. During a weekend visits, Sally and Cheyenne were alone in the bunkhouse. They sat at the kitchen table playing a game of cards. Hearing Arlene come down the stairs for the tenth time, Cheyenne got up from the table and moved toward the bedroom. Looking at Sally, she rolled her eyes. “I’m going to hide so she won’t stay long.” Cheyenne entered the bathroom and hid in the moldy shower. Pulling the curtain closed behind her, she was quiet, feeling a little foolish, but safe.

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Arlene was no monster, but sometimes when the old woman got on a roll, she was too much for anyone to handle. This particular day was no exception. Cheyenne was tired of Arlene’s constant interruptions. She knew it was time for her to escape before she blew up, and did something, she’d later regret.

Cheyenne heard Sally answer the door and let her grandmother in. She heard Arlene move around the bunkhouse, picturing exactly what the old woman was doing. She routinely claimed everything she picked up or touched, was hers. “This is mine. This is my tea. This is my cup. This is my salt shaker.” She heard Sally agree with everything Arlene had to say.

Suddenly hearing no sounds coming from the other room, she assumed Sally and Arlene had gone outside. The shower curtain was flung open, and Sally screeched, “Here she is, Grandma. I found Cheyenne!”

Sally laughed so hard, she fell to the floor. The confused woman reached for Cheyenne and pulled her out of the shower stall.

“Darn you, Sally Harrison! You’re in so much trouble!” Cheyenne stared at Sally with a frown.

Alzheimer’s quickly destroyed Arlene’s life. A few months later, the family moved her into a nursing home in Mooreland. Rowdy and Cheyenne spent many hours visiting her there. It was hard on Rowdy, seeing his mother’s condition worsen. Cheyenne understood why Arlene was miserable

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there. The old woman missed the farm. The life she’d known as a farmer’s wife was gone forever. Despite the unfortunate situation, it took Arlene a long time to lose her spunk. She would occasionally escape from the nursing home by sneaking out any door left open. The nurses would find her wandering around on the yard outside picking up sticks. It baffled them as to how she got out. Arlene enjoyed keeping her secret. She would wander up and down the halls, sometimes sneaking into an old man’s room to swipe a piece of his chocolate candy. It became a game between them. She’d creep in, and he loudly yell at her to get the hell out. It was difficult for Cheyenne to see the pain on Rowdy’s face when Arlene would beg them to take her home when they left.

Rowdy’s sisters were good to Arlene. They sometimes brought her back to the farm for weekend visits. During a visit Jody gave Arlene a bath. When she finished, she found she couldn’t lift her mother out of the bathtub alone. Jody hollered down to the bunkhouse for Cheyenne to come and give her a hand. Cheyenne was saddened to see the look of terror on Arlene’s face as she stood naked frightened and humiliated in front of them. Arlene was not at all pleased with the women who were trying to pull her from the bathtub. Cheyenne felt sorry for Arlene that day. She felt her embarrassment, and she felt her pain.

During a visit to the nursing home, Cheyenne was grabbed and held in a death grip by a mentally disabled patient who was confined to a wheelchair.

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Rusty held Cheyenne tight by her legs and around her waist. Professing loudly that he loved her, he begged her not to go. He cried when Rowdy and the nurses pried loose his grip. It pained Cheyenne, and broke her heart, to hear his desperate pleas. She was sorry there was nothing she could do to stop his suffering, and obvious unhappiness. She would hear him cry every time they came there to visit Arlene. He wanted Cheyenne’s attention. She was torn between caring for Arlene while they were there, and trying to ease his pain.

It made Cheyenne sad to see that many residents of the home had no visitors. She thought. It’s no fun to grow old! No one cares whether these poor people live or die. I’m sure most of them would rather be dead than to exist in this environment! Cheyenne silently thanked the Lord for her good health and sound mind.

“Rowdy, tell me you’ll never put me in a place like this!” she insisted each time they visited the nursing home.

“Don’t worry, baby, I promise I won’t. Promise you’ll just shoot me if I ever lose my mind.” They would both rather be dead than to be kept alive when their minds and bodies no longer served them. They made a pact to take care of each other in old age.

After being confined to the home, Arlene managed to hold on for several years. Although by the time she passed away, she’d become a mere

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vegetable. Toward the end of her life, she didn’t know where she was, or who was there with her. She lost her ability to speak. The only sounds she made were low animalistic grunts. Arlene was eventually kept alive only by the fluids being fed to her through the needles in her arms. There was no life left in those once-beautiful blue eyes.

Occasionally seeing bruises and cuts on Arlene’s extremities, it greatly disturbed Cheyenne that Arlene couldn’t tell anyone what happened. When she questioned the nurses, they would say Arlene had fallen out of bed, or from her chair. Cheyenne suspected abuse. She couldn’t prove it.

Arlene’s funeral was held at the Freedom Christian Church. It was a fitting ceremony for the strong-willed Christian woman. Many people gave kind testimony and expressed the love they felt for Arlene. Everyone in the church loved her. There were no unkind words spoken. Arlene had many friends. Everyone at the funeral service was aware the world had lost a terrific woman. The family had a tough time dealing with her death, especially her husband, Wilbur.

Cheyenne wondered what her own funeral would be like. She doubted there would be such a massive turnout, or that such loving testimony would be given. Suddenly thinking about her dear mother who’d passed away in the early seventies. She said a prayer for both women. Rest in Peace!

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Cheyenne and Arlene shared the same birthday. They were born on August seventh. She wondered if Rowdy ever sensed a similarity in their personalities, because of the birthday connection.

A few days after the funeral, Rowdy asked Cheyenne to ride along with him on the tractor. He was depressed. He deeply missed his mother. As they pulled out into the dusty wheat fields, he began to tell his stories.

“Mom grew up in oil work camps across Oklahoma. She never knew a stranger. It was no big deal for her to share what little food we had with complete strangers. One time a horse trader stopped by the ranch to do some horse trading with Dad. Mom invited him to join them for supper. The old cowboy was thankful for the hot meal, and continuously complimented her on her good cooking. Dad thought the stranger was flirting with his wife. He didn’t like it. Before the stranger could finish the meal, Dad ran him off. I could hear him yelling from the front porch. Get the hell out of here! I have no horses to sell to you. Pick up your saddle and get your skinny ass off my property! When he was sure the drifter was down the road, Dad returned to the dinner table and picked up his fork. Nodding toward us frightened kids, he said, “It’s okay! Now let’s eat!”

Rowdy remembered how beautifully she’d played the piano. She’d spent hours trying to teach him to play. “Mom had a wonderful voice; she could sing like a bird.” He talked about what a great mother she was, and about how much she’d loved him.

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He chuckled. “I remember coming home from college for a visit. If she suspected I’d been drinking beer the night before, she’d fix a plate full of runny eggs for breakfast. She’d sit and watch until I cleaned the plate. My head would be pounding and my stomach rolling, but I knew if I didn’t eat the eggs, I’d get one of her lectures about drinking beer. She didn’t like me drinking, because her younger brother died an alcoholic.”

She heard him continue on. “My sisters were in high school when I was born. They loved me to death, and spoiled me rotten. Between my sisters, my mom and Grandma Edna, I had it pretty darned good. When I was in grade school my sisters left for college. I spent a lot of time alone after that. I missed them a lot.”

Cheyenne enjoyed getting to know more about her cowboy. Rowdy had a lot to say. “Mom owned a small cafe across the highway close to the park. I spent many nights alone waiting for her to come home. Sometimes she let me eat my meals at the cafe, but I’d have to wait until the last customer was served before she’d let me eat. Many nights she didn’t come home until way after midnight. She’d be up, and out the door, by six o’clock the next morning to open the cafe.”

“You’ve had quite a life. You should write a book,” Cheyenne smiled.

“You’re right. I should. Dad had me breaking wild colts by the time I was four. He’d make me get on them to show the buyer, if a four year old could

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ride the horse, anyone could. He’d always make the sale after they saw me ride. I had many wild rides on tough horses when I was a young kid. Sometimes I’d sneak off and hide down by the pond when he was trying to sell the wilder ones.” He took a deep breath.

“Thanks for listening Cheyenne. It feels good to talk about it. Dad was a hard-working man. He taught me how to ranch and farm. I guess everything I know I learned from him. I never got much pay though, maybe a new pair of shoes once a year, usually at Christmas time.”

“Did he teach you how to drink beer?” she asked.

He shook his head no. “I don’t remember Dad drinking much. Although I heard he was a drinker in his day. I don’t know where I got my liking for a cold beer, maybe from my uncle!” Rowdy gazed at the sky. Enjoying her company, he continued on. “I always knew what my Christmas present was going to be. Each year I’d pray it would be a white pair of tennis shoes. Every damned time they would be black. When I turned out for baseball in grade school, I begged Dad for a new pair of baseball shoes. Instead of buying me a new pair, he pounded golf cleats into the soles of my cousin’s old hand-me-down track shoes. He called them baseball shoes. I was embarrassed to wear them, but Dad insisted. I usually followed his advice, or I got my ass whipped. My family was poor. Once a week we’d drive into Freedom for supplies. Sometimes they let me buy a chocolate bar. The candy would sometimes be old and stale; full of worms. I’d pick out the

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worms and eat what was left of the chocolate.” Rowdy smiled remembering the good old days.

“I didn’t have a very good childhood either. After my dad died things were pretty bleak.” Rowdy’s stories made Cheyenne sad. She wanted him to stop.

“You’ve got to hear this one. Then I’ll shut up. We took the hired hand into town with us one time. Jim was an alcoholic. Dad threatened to fire him if he ever caught him drunk. The folks were in the grocery store. I saw Jim sneak across the street and go into the liquor store. It was obvious when he came out he’d bought himself a couple of bottles of liquor. He’d tucked a bottle into each of his boots. He clinked and clanked when he walked. Finished with their shopping, the folks were ready to go home. Me, and my sisters, climbed into the back of the truck with old Jim. He winked and warned me not to tell his secret, or he’d whip my ass when we got home. The old drunk scared the hell out of me. I was only about ten. I kept his secret. Dad made me move into the bunkhouse when I was pretty young. He wanted me to keep an eye on the ranch hands, so they wouldn’t sneak off in the middle of the night with his things. Those scary bastards came and went. Some of them were hard core convicts, recently released from prison. Let me tell you, they taught me the tricks of the trade. Of course, my parents had no clue what went on in the bunkhouse,” Rowdy saw Cheyenne yawn.

Cheyenne smiled, and encouraged him to go on.

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“The night Jim brought the whiskey into the bunkhouse, I watched him suck it down. He got really drunk. The drunker he got, the meaner he was. There were many nights I took his punches. I learned how and when to punch back. After we'd gone to bed, I heard Jim call for me in the dark. I knew her was dead drunk, but he sounded like he was in pain. I turned on the light to check on him. He clutched at his chest and yelled for me to help. He said he was dying, and I believed him. I I’d go upstairs to get Dad. Jim wouldn’t let me go. He was afraid if Dad knew he was drinking, he’d fire him. He told me to pound on his chest. As I pounded, he passed out. I thought I’d killed him, I was scared to death. I don’t think I could have been more than ten-years-old. I shook him, and he finally came to. He grabbed me by the throat, and laughed out loud. He asked me if I were trying to kill him. It scared the shit out of me when Jim laughed like a maniac. I ran from the bunkhouse and spent the night alone in the basement. I don’t know if I was more afraid of Jim, or my dad. Anyway, I didn’t tell Dad about Jim’s drinking.” They saw the sun begin to go down in the west.

“Tell me about your Grandparents. What were they like?” she asked enjoying his stories.

“I loved them. They were kind folk. I spent a lot of time with them. Many nights I’d jump on my horse and ride the five miles to their ranch. I knew Grandma Edna would fix me supper. Grandpa used to squat in front of the old fireplace, like an Indian Chief. He’d smoke his cigarettes one after the

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other, while he stoked the fire, and told me stories. When I was with them, I felt like a kid. When I was around my Dad, I felt like I needed to be a man. I spent many stormy nights sleeping on their sun porch with my boy cousins. We’d lay awake most the night, seeing lightning bolts strike down on the cemetery next door. We had more fun telling ghost stories. Grandpa Walt was a dark-skinned, thin, rugged-looking, Indian man. Grandma Edna wore her long brown hair in braids. They fell down her back. She’d sometimes wrap herself in a blanket and sit in her rocking chair on the front porch. I really missed them when they died.” He suddenly felt very sad.

Cheyenne had never known a man like him. The longer she listened, the more in love she was. She knew she’d never be able to tame the wild Mustang. There’d be no changing him. She knew better than to try.

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CHAPTER EIGHT

Cheyenne became hardened against the weather, wind, creatures, and cowboys. She knew she’d have to toughen up, if she were to survive. Freedom, Oklahoma was certainly a man’s world. She sometimes doubted she’d ever really belong.

Daily, she dealt with large snakes, scorpions, tarantulas, liars, and cheats. She developed choice names for some of the ornery, chauvinistic male bastards she dealt with in the day-to-day business affairs. The bull business was tough. Grandpa Leo had been right when he’d said, “A bullpen was no place for a lady!”

Some days were worse than others. When she opened the company checkbook early one morning a three-inch-long scorpion fell into the palm of her hand. That was only one example of the terror she faced, sometimes on a daily basis. Cheyenne screamed and pitched the venomous scorpion across the room, before it had a chance to sting her. When it landed she ran

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after it in hot pursuit. Jumping and screaming loud, she stomped on the deadly insect like she was putting out a fire. Minutes later, finally satisfied the scorpion was dead, she realized she’d just conquered another fear. She’d killed the rascal before she got bit. That knowledge gave her a true sense of satisfaction.

Afraid of spiders, no matter how big or what kind; in Freedom, she learned to overcome the fear. There were bugs everywhere. The bunkhouse was infested with spiders of all shapes and sizes. Most species were not familiar to her. She wasn’t aware such ugly, disgusting creatures existed, anywhere on the face of the earth.

She was aware of the flesh-eating centipedes hidden along the baseboards of the bunkhouse. The brown recluse spiders had a venomous bite. Cheyenne was occasionally bitten as she slept in the old featherbed. When she applied Neosporin to the fresh bites, it helped the swelling go down. Large flying insects sometimes flew into the open windows of the farm trucks as they drove through the fields. She was forever afraid of the black bugs.

“Relax, baby! They’re June bugs! Trust me! They won’t hurt you!” Rowdy would laugh, claiming the bugs were harmless.

As they finished training the bulls at the town arena one evening, Cheyenne shuddered, realizing she’d have to pee in the ancient outhouse

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with no door. It was pitch-black dark. She bucked up and talked herself into giving it a try. It was the outhouse or the woods.

“What a horrible place. Get over it. Nothing’s going to bite me. I’m a big girl. Pee fast and get the hell out of here!” She walked inside.

Cheyenne wasn’t aware a big black stinkbug had crawled up her pant leg as she squatted. The bug nested on her boot top. Pulling up her jeans, she zipped them and ran out of the outhouse toward the truck through the tall prairie grass like a leaping lizard. She jumped into the truck and they drove to the Freedom Saloon for a cold beer, Cheyenne was relieved she’d gotten through the ordeal of the dismal outhouse without being bitten. She plopped down on a bar stool, and immediately felt movement inside her jeans. She felt something large crawl along the inside of her inner thigh. Fearing it was a deadly centipede; she jumped down from the stool. Her pants quickly came down in front of the crowd at the bar. It didn’t matter to her at the time that every cowboy in town was about to see her butt. She kicked off her boots and ripped off her jeans, jumping up and down like a squealing greased pig. Rowdy thought. What in the hell is my girl doing now? She’s gone wild!

“Something big and hard is crawling up my thigh. There’s a huge bug in my pants! You’ve got to help me kill it!” She picked up her jeans from where they lay on the concrete floor. Giving them a swift shake she saw a two-inch long black stinkbug fall out. The bug slowly made its way across the floor disappearing into the darkness. Everyone in the bar roared. Feeling

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embarrassed and humiliated, she grabbed her boots and jeans and fled to the safety of the women’s room. Determined a big black stinkbug wasn’t going to get the best of her, she pulled on her jeans, buckled her belt and bumped her boots upside down against the doorjamb. Seeing there were no more bugs inside, she put on her boots. Yanking open the restroom door, she stomped back into the bar to the loud catcalls of the drunken crowd.

“Shove it, you bastards!” Cheyenne put on a tough face.

Putting an arm around her shoulders, Rowdy handed her a beer.

“That’s my girl!” he said with a grin.

Everything was always better when she was in Rowdy’s arms. Cheyenne was proud she hadn’t fainted. She knew she was getting tougher by the day. She vowed again not to let the elements take her down.

The bulls were scheduled to perform at a rodeo in Wichita, Kansas, the next day. The hired hands had taken a load of bulls to a sale in Oklahoma City, and were not at the ranch to help load. Rowdy had a broken ankle from a bull pinning him against the corrals a few days before.

“If we’re taking the bulls to Kansas, you’re driving!” He claimed he couldn’t drive the truck with a broken ankle.

He was up earlier than usual that morning. Seeing him hobble around the bunkhouse on one foot, she heard him cuss. He was upset no one was

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around to help load the bulls; and especially mad he had another broken bone.

“Baby, I can help! Stop your fussing!” Cheyenne was tired of hearing him bitch.

Looking down at the petite woman, he was glad she wanted to help, but he wondered what in the hell she could do.

“Sure, baby! Get out to the barn and load those bulls!”

“Show me what to do and I’ll do it. We can load them together!” She was confident she could do anything with a little help from her friend.

Reluctantly pulling on a boot, he grabbed his crutch with one hand, and patted Cheyenne on the butt with the other.

“Okay, sweetheart, let’s go.” Rowdy walked out the door.

Grabbing her coat, she followed him up the hill to the corrals. The ranch hands had penned and sorted the bulls the night before. She would have no problem loading them. After all, she’d seen the cowboys do it many times before.

“Give me a little credit. I'm no dummy! Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it!” Cheyenne was out of breath from climbing the hill. She was happy to drive the truck. She was a good driver. After all, she knew, Rowdy would be

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there if she had a problem. She felt with him by her side, she could do almost anything. Although she’d never before pulled a trailer loaded with two-thousand-pound bucking bulls, she had no fear. She thought. There's truly a first time for everything.

Rowdy jumped into the driver’s seat. Although his ankle hurt, he cranked the steering wheel and backed the trailer up to the bull pen. When the trailer was in place, she unlocked the gate, and swung it open wide.

“Watch your sweet ass! That balled-face black one will get you!” Rowdy yelled. Cheyenne remained calm, mindfully doing what she was told to do.

Angrily limping on one foot into the bullpen, Rowdy left his crutch behind. With a stick in hand he began to call the bulls by name.

“J-19, B-51, Cobra, Bull Durham. Get going. Let’s go!” he yelled. The animals lumbered into the stock trailer in the order he called out their names.

Cheyenne watched ten massive rodeo bulls load into the back of the stock trailer. She heard Rowdy continue to bark orders.

“Stand back behind the pickup! If they see you they won’t load! Stay back!” he screamed.

Seeing he was having a bad day, she smiled saluting him with a hand on her forehead.

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“Yes, captain! Okay, Rowdy! Calm down! I hear you, damn it! I’m behind the truck.”

Doing what she was told, she watched him methodically load the bulls. He’d tap one on the back with his loading stick, gently saying its name or number. The bulls loaded one by one into the trailer. Seeing her cowboy do his job, she remembered her Grandpa Leo, and how gentle he’d been with his animals. She thought. Rowdy is the same kind, gentle man. She loved him even more.

When the bulls were loaded, they returned to bunkhouse to shower and get ready for the trip to Wichita. She helped Rowdy wrap a plastic garbage bag around his cast, so it wouldn’t get wet. Hearing him sing in the shower, she smiled happy that he was in a better mood.

Cheyenne hurried to pack her bags. Throwing several pair of cowboy boots and a large stack of jeans into the suitcase, she saw Rowdy hobble around on one foot. Seeing her pack everything in sight, he grinned.

“Baby, we’re only going to be gone two days!” He never understood why she had to bring so much.

Ignoring his comments, Cheyenne continued to pack seeing Rowdy struggle to dry off, and get dressed. When two suitcases were full, she stopped. She saw him throw his toothbrush, shaver and underwear into a

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brown paper sack. He grabbed a couple of shirts, and two pairs of creased, starched Wranglers out of the closet.

“You carry my grocery sack, baby, and I’ll grab your bags!” Rowdy finished blow drying his wet hair.

Picking up Cheyenne’s heavy bag with one hand, he held the crutch with the other and gently shoved her toward the door.

“You need to come back for the other bag! My cowboy boots are in it!” Cheyenne whined, afraid he’d forget.

He nodded. “Yes baby, for you the world. My cowgirl needs her boots!”

They walked outside, and hurried toward the truck. Cheyenne saw the heavy bulls move around inside the loaded trailer. Rowdy put the suitcase and brown paper grocery sack in the backseat. He hung his ironed clothes on the hook over the back window. She saw him struggle to walk with the metal crutch as he returned to the bunkhouse for another load.

On the way out the door, Rowdy grabbed two cold Bud Lights from the refrigerator. Using the crutch, he slammed the door shut behind him, and methodically made his way back up the hill. Sitting proudly in the driver’s seat, she saw him drag her suitcase up the hill. She was comfortably waiting with her seat belt buckled. Her heart was full of love as she watched Rowdy climb in beside her.

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“Buckle up, baby! Are you ready for a wild ride?” she asked.

Rowdy clicked his seat belt shut, and rummaged through the glove compartment.

“Great! I’ve got enough Copenhagen to make it to Kansas! We need to stop in Harper on the way so I can check these lottery tickets!” He was excited like a kid. Flashing a handful of old lottery tickets, he smiled. “You never know, I might be a winner!”

“Oh, you’re a winner all right!” Cheyenne laughed out loud.

They stopped in Harper, Kansas at the truck stop. She saw several truck drivers standing in front of the small store. Maneuvering the big Ford dually and long stock trailer, into position next to the gasoline pump, she saw the men point and laugh. Wondering if she were doing something wrong, she turned off the engine, Rowdy jumped out.

“You handle it, Babe! I’ve got to take a leak, and check these tickets!” He hobbled into the quick-stop.

Opening the door, Cheyenne jumped down from the driver’s seat. Giving a large wave to her admirers, she filled the gas tank with diesel. She saw why the truckers were laughing when she walked around the side of the stock trailer. The bucking bulls had decided to take a pee. Pissing out the

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metal slatted sides of the stock trailer, she saw it run all over the parking lot, like an uncontrolled river. Cheyenne was embarrassed.

“You sons-of-bitches, couldn’t you’ hold it for just another few miles?” she laughed out loud at her private outburst. She thought. I act like a farmer, and talk like a truck driver. What would my friends say if they could see me now?

Rowdy hurried across the parking lot with a handful of lottery tickets. He held his crutch in one hand and a half-case of Budweiser under his arm. She thought. For a man with an injury, he sure has no problem packing the beer.

“Baby, we’re rich! I won five dollars on the fireball ticket so I bought ten more!” She saw the excitement in his eyes.

“That’s great news!”

Cheyenne walked into the market. Once inside, she headed straight for the ladies’ room. Hastily using the toilet, she washed her hands. Feeling a little tired, though it had been a short drive, she picked up a bottle of Starbuck’s and a Snicker’s bar.

“I’ll take one Powerball ticket, please!” She handed the clerk a dollar bill.

Despite the circumstances, Cheyenne enjoyed driving the truck. Rowdy didn’t like to drive, with or without, a broken ankle. Pulling away from the

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gas pumps in Harper, he gave her a few last minute driving instructions. Then putting a pinch of Copenhagen into his cheek, he drifted off to sleep. Glancing toward the sleeping cowboy, she thought. Look at you. You’re such an angel! Enjoy your sleep!

Going east on Highway 160 toward Interstate 35, she picked up speed. The big truck cruised down the narrow highway at seventy miles an hour. She saw red lights flash in the rearview mirror at the same time she saw the exit to I-35 north.

“Baby wake up. I’ve got a Smokey on my tail! He’s coming after us! Where should I pull over?” She slapped Rowdy on the leg.

Waking up fast, he seemed irritated and confused.

“Damn it baby! What trouble have you gotten us into now?” he asked doggedly.

He saw red flashing lights. Putting on the blinker, Cheyenne slowly pulled over into the right lane. The patrol car speed by. They were thankful the highway patrolman was in a hurry to get somewhere else. She drew her hand over her forehead.

“Shit! I thought we had it for sure!” She signed.

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“Your fast driving will get us in trouble! Slow this damned truck down! We’ve got plenty of time to make it to Wichita in time before the bull ride starts!” He was in a bad mood. His ankle throbbed and his head ached.

Cheyenne pulled slowly back onto the highway and headed north on I-35. The show was scheduled to start in three hours. After the trooper incident, she stayed in the right hand lane, cautiously moving into the left lane only when passing a slow-moving car or semi-truck.

Pulling into Wichita, an hour later, she saw Rowdy was in a better mood. Suddenly wide awake, he was excited about seeing the bulls perform.

“You look so sexy and handsome when you’re excited!” Cheyenne was happy to see he seemed to be feeling better.

She was glad she’d let him sleep. She knew Rowdy loved to show off their bucking bulls.

“I wonder how they’ll do tonight. I hope they don’t embarrass me. We’ve put a lot of time into the training. Hopefully they’ll buck and head back to the pens.” He opened a cold beer.

Driving the heavy rig into the rodeo grounds she saw several young men wave and holler hello. She was proud everyone seemed to know her cowboy. Situating the truck and trailer behind the announcer’s stand, she turned the engine off.

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“Who’s going to back this thing up?” she asked in a panic. Cheyenne didn’t know how to back up a trailer. She really didn’t want to learn how to do it. Rolling his window down, Rowdy yelled. “Hey Jesse, get in here and back this rig up!”

Seeing a young bull rider jump into the truck, Cheyenne scooted across the console to give him room.

“It’s good too to see you guys! Tell me about Monster Mash. What’s he going to do tonight? I got him in the draw!” Jesse said with a wide grin.

He was a world champion. Jesse knew how to ride bulls.

“He’s going to eat your shorts!” Rowdy laughed.

The bull rider shrugged, expertly backing the truck up to the gate. The bulls appeared ready for action as they sauntered into the pens. Cheyenne heard the announcer tune up his microphone. Loud country-western music played over the large arena speakers. Cheyenne loved a rodeo! She especially loved to see her bulls buck. She was excited and happy to finally be in Wichita.

When Rowdy was satisfied the bulls were in the right pens, he moved the truck and trailer out onto the grass where it would be out of the way.

“Come on, baby, let’s find us a cold beer!” He took Cheyenne by the hand and they walked together toward the beer stand.

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With visions of victory swirling in their heads, they headed out across the arena in search of a free beer. Rowdy forgot about his ankle. He moved effortlessly along on his casted foot searching for the beer garden. Cheyenne thought. You shit ass! You’re getting along pretty darn good! You can drive home!

The grandstands filled with excited rodeo fans. Cheyenne enjoyed seeing the young cowboys imitate the older bull riders. The little cowboys dressed the part. They would stand still in the dirt, with a rope wrapped around one wrist, and a hand held high. Giving a signal to an imaginary gate man, they would snort, buck and kick at the dust like they were riding a bull. She thought. They train em’ young! The young boys stomping around in the dirt would grow up to be bull riders. There was no doubt in their mind, or in hers.

As the time grew near for the event to begin, Rowdy pointed toward an open seat in the crowded grandstands. Walking behind the chutes, he liked being behind the scenes when their bulls performed. The stock contractors putting on the show normally did most of the work. Rowdy wanted to be there to tell them exactly how to handle their bulls. He’d occasionally flank their bulls, when a rider asked him to help.

The show went on in Wichita. Jesse got bucked off Monster Mash, just as Rowdy thought he would. Monster Mash was named the Bull of the Night, which meant a nice paycheck for Rocking A Rodeo Company.

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The rodeo was over at ten o’clock. Cheyenne looked forward to a good night’s sleep at the Holiday Inn. It was after midnight by the time the bulls were fed and Rowdy was convinced they were safe for the night. The tired couple headed for the truck. Climbing into the driver’s seat, she saw Rowdy open the ice chest in the back of the truck and take out a cold Budweiser.

“Can I get you a beer?” he asked.

“No thank you.” She was in no mood for a party.

Leaving the trailer behind, they drove away. She noticed a big difference in the way the truck handled without the heavy load. Rowdy drank down the beer and reached for another. Cheyenne was amazed at how fast Rowdy could drink down a beer. She thought. He lives for his beer. I wonder what kind of man he’d be if he were sober once in a while.

Pulling the Ford truck into the Holiday Inn, she knew she wouldn’t be going to bed any time soon. The parking lot was alive with fun-loving, drunken bull riders. Rowdy seemed to know them all. Jesse saw them drive in and greeted them with a cold beer as they got out of the truck.

They walked through the parking lot into the hotel lobby. A loud country western band played a Chris Ladoux song about Copenhagen. The place was alive. Cheyenne was suddenly awake. She was excited and ready to join the party. Several cowboys came up congratulating them on the quality of their bucking stock. Glancing around the crowded room, she hoped to find an

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older crowd. She saw there wasn’t anyone there over thirty. Clinging tight to Rowdy’s arm, they joined a group of young, good-looking bull riders in the busy lounge. He called them all by their first names quietly explaining who it was he’d just waved to.

“That’s Justin McBride. There’s Tater Porter and Jesse Shelhammer. Hey Bodie Peach, he’s from Mooreland; and Gilbert Carrillo, Cody Lambert, J.W. Hart, and Ty Murray.” He thought about when he’d ridden so many years before. Rowdy knew all the young cowboys, and they knew him.

Cheyenne was overwhelmed, trying to remember their names. She was in a room filled with the top bull riders in the world. They were a friendly bunch of bull riding champions, who partied until the early hours. Rowdy was in his element. He was having so much fun; he would have liked to stay up all night. She finally persuaded him it was time to go at 2:00 a.m.…there was no lovemaking that night when they got to the hotel room. They were exhausted, and a little drunk. Cheyenne smiled, closing her eyes, she drifted off to sleep. She thought. I’ll always remember this trip to Wichita.

When they woke the next morning, Rowdy said, “My ankle’s killing me!” Cheyenne understood she would be driving home. Her head pounded from one too many Bud Lights, and the shot or two of Jack Daniels she drunk the night before.

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The left the hotel by ten o’clock and returned to the rodeo grounds. She watched Rowdy hook up the trailer, and load the bulls. When his job was done, he reached for a beer from the cooler in the back of the truck, and climbed into the passenger’s side.

“I don’t know how you do it, man!” She shuddered at the thought of drinking beer after the night before. Thinking it was sad; she started the truck and drove away from the rodeo grounds. She imagined the bulls were ready to go home. Rowdy was ready for another party. He wasn’t ready to go back to Freedom. In an exceptionally good mood, he proudly displayed Monster Mash’s prize money. Turning south onto I-35, she headed for the barn. A few miles down the highway, she heard Rowdy snore. He’d gone to sleep with a beer in his hand, and the winning check hanging from his shirt pocket.

She’d seen firsthand what went on behind the scenes at a bull ride; Rowdy was used to the action. Cheyenne had no problem keeping up. As she drove, she wondered. Now that he knows I can drive a truck, how will I get him back behind the wheel? As if reading her mind, Rowdy opened one eye. He saluted.

“There’s no turning back now, baby! You’ve got yourself a job!” He closed his eyes and pulled his hat down over his face.

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“Do you know what I’d really like to do? I want to know how to flank them! I want to slap those bucking bulls on the butt, and pinch those good- looking riders on the cheek. When they open the gate, I want to scream Yahoo, and send them on their way!” She smiled hearing Rowdy chuckle at her enthusiasm.

The roaming cowboys, and PBR bull riders, who stopped by the ranch from time to time, liked Cheyenne. They asked what a nice gal like her was doing with Rowdy in a place like Freedom. She rarely gave them an answer. Cheyenne wanted to keep her personal life to herself. The young cowboys made her feel welcome. They liked her, and they liked her money. They especially liked her bulls and the new diesel Ford trucks. They often complimented her on her good looks. Cheyenne understood it was their way of sucking up to the boss lady.

The efforts she put forth in Freedom were all for the love of one cowboy. She shrugged off the flirts and offers from the others. When they sometimes ask, “What do you see in a guy like Rowdy?” She’d give them a good story hoping to temporarily satisfy their inquiring minds. One cowboy was enough for Cheyenne. At her age, she didn’t have the stamina for more than one.

As time passed by, she felt a little insecure. She worried Rowdy didn’t truly appreciate her. She thought. It's too bad the son-of-a- bitch doesn’t realize what he has or how good he has it! She wondered if he loved the bulls, and the fame her money brought, more than he loved her. Someday

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he'd figure out what she’d brought to the table had drastically changed his life. She hoped he had the good sense to keep a great thing going. They were sitting on top of the rodeo world. They bred and raised the best bucking bulls in the country. She was proud to be involved.

Settling into a routine, Cheyenne was resolute the relationship wouldn’t become boring. She did everything she knew how, to keep Rowdy satisfied. Like Ryan, Rowdy had a wandering eye. She’d sometimes see him undress other women with his eyes. Looking away, she’d pretend it didn’t matter. But it did. She didn’t want her heart broken again. What was wrong with her picker? She’d picked another Romeo. Wishing Rowdy were more like her father, she doubted there was a man alive who could live up to the high standards he’d set.

She had the ability, to mold losers into desirable men. Other women liked what she created. Sometimes she felt it was a curse, but she couldn’t blame it on the other women. The men in her life were the reason her heart hurt.

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CHAPTER NINE

Cheyenne’s strange new life in Oklahoma kept her very busy. She was rarely alone. She spent her days caring for everyone, and ignoring her own needs. The hectic lifestyle, and hard ranch work, kept her mind busy. Having spent three years in Freedom, she felt physically, mentally, and financially drained.

Cheyenne was a hard worker. Taking care of business with little help from the cowboy, she cooked, cleaned, and faced the daily grind, hoping to somehow make a difference. She drove trucks and pulled trailers filled with wild bucking bulls, and drunken cowboys. She used her credit cards to pay all of the expenses for the bull business. She bought gas and expensive feed for the bulls, and paid for motel rooms and meals when they were on the road chasing rodeos. She fed hungry cowboys cheeseburgers, and she bought their beer.

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wondered if she was subconsciously trying to get even with Ryan by staying there. What evil force was driving her? She had no clue. She was reckless enough not to care. Although surrounded by strangers, she was alone. Her life changed dramatically. Ryan was gone. He’d taken her pride with him when he left.

Cheyenne felt like she was riding on an out-of-control Merry Go Round. She’d turned her attention from Ryan to Rowdy, not understanding they were two different souls. The men in her life were as different as night and day. It was like jumping from the frying pan into the fire. Ryan was self- sufficient, in many ways. Rowdy was a loser. She bought him new cowboy boots, paid his bills, paid his way, and gave him anything he asked for; from booze, to Copenhagen. She was as generous with Rowdy as she’d been with Ryan. It was like she transferred her feelings from one man to the next. The only difference was Ryan had been a good provider. He at least brought home a substantial paycheck. Rowdy was always broke. She encouraged him to get a day job.

“I was married for twenty years to a hard-working man who enjoyed accomplishing things in life. Get your butt out of bed and go to work. I can’t support you forever!” It upset her to see Rowdy lay in bed nursing a hangover.

There were days when she feared she couldn’t continue. She’d made a huge investment in Freedom; both time and money. She was determined not

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to leave until her money was back in the bank. Hanging on to the impossible dream, she hoped in the end, her efforts would have been worth it.

Rowdy had a stock response when she compared him to Ryan. “He was a hard worker all right. He was out the door early in the morning, chasing women and having sex with his secretary! Quite an accomplishment I’d say!” He turned his back, and laughed. Rowdy was always broke. He had nothing to contribute financially. She eventually stopped asking him to contribute. There was no changing the irresponsible cowboy.

Never considering the well may run dry, she was in love, and she believed in the cowboy’s dream. She believed if she helped to make his dreams a reality, she’d one day share in the rewards. Unfortunately, Rowdy’s dreams never came true. Regardless of the situation, life with him was still more gratifying than what it was with Ryan. Despite the heavy financial investment, in many ways, the Freedom experience made her a stronger woman.

Cheyenne enjoyed the occasional quiet and peaceful times on the ranch. The whippoorwills singing on the graying split rail fence just outside the bedroom window woke her each morning. They brought back memories of hearing the trill of the birds in the treetops on her family ranch in Washington, when she was a child.

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The large variety of birds in the area, were a beautiful sight in an otherwise bleak world. She enjoyed watching the red birds, blue birds, yellow birds, sparrows, mocking birds and robins, fly across the land. They would land on the sagging fence posts and nest in the splintered trees. Large golden eagles and brown hawks spread their wings and glided across the blue sky. A flock of ugly buzzards returned to Freedom each spring and nested on the tall grain silos in town. Cheyenne liked to sit and watch them build their nests and go about their business. The sound and beauty, of the entertaining birds on the ranch brought peace to an otherwise chaotic world.

She’d begin most days with a walk or run in the country. Getting up early, she would pull on her jogging clothes, slip on her tennis shoes and head out the door. The country air was usually fresh and clean. The old farm dogs loved to tag along, as she jogged down the red dirt roads. Babe and Bear would occasionally run off into the fields to chase a jackrabbit, or other unknown creature. They would return with their tongues hanging out, and feathers dangling from their jowls. Babe was a frisky Great Dane. Old Bear was a mongrel. Rowdy claimed he was part wolf. He had a hard time keeping up with Babe, but Bear gave it his best shot. When they returned to the bunkhouse after the long morning walks, he’d fall asleep under the front porch for the remainder of the day.

The friendly ranch dogs were with her early the morning she saw a pickup roll toward them through the deep dust of the back country road. The

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truck slowed down as it got closer. Frightened, Cheyenne called the dogs close to her side. The dirty old farm truck came to a slow stop. The driver lowered a dusty window speaking with a deep drawl.

“Are you out here for your health, or do you need a ride? My name’s Sheldon. I’m your neighbor to the north.”

Seeing the friendly face, Cheyenne relaxed. The driver’s outgoing, gracious demeanor surprised her. She thought. Thank goodness! He seems like a decent guy.

“I’m out here strictly for my health, but thanks anyway!” She gave the stranger a big smile and continued on.

The man nodded. She saw him give her a short salute, roll up the truck window, and drive away. Stopping by the local cafe for coffee later that morning, he explained how he'd met Rowdy’s new woman.

“Boys, you won’t believe what happened to me on my drive into town. I was making my daily rounds and I thought my dreams had all come true. I spent many years driving the old John Deere around in circles, thinking about what I’d do if a beautiful woman ran toward me across the field, with her arms open wide. It finally happened. My dreams came true this morning! She was the most beautiful red-head you ever saw. She smiled and it took my breath away. You fellas ought to meet her. She’s real! I ran into

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Rowdy’s new gal friend this morning!” Sheldon knew the men enjoyed hearing his silly story.

When Cheyenne and the dogs returned to the ranch, it was almost noon. She couldn’t wait for Rowdy to come home for lunch. She wanted to tell him she'd met Sheldon. She made several bologna sandwiches and opened a can of pork n’ beans. Pouring a generous amount of Tequila into the blender, she made frozen Margaritas. Satisfied lunch was ready, she glanced at the clock, wondering why Rowdy was late. Enjoying the taste of the frozen cocktail, she busied herself straightening up the bunkhouse. Sitting down to watch the noon news on TV, she heard the dogs bark and assumed Rowdy had finally arrived. The soft knock on the door told her it wasn't so. She prayed it wasn’t Arlene coming in for an afternoon scavenger hunt. Seeing a tall, pretty, dark-haired cowgirl smile at her through the dirty window, she opened the door and extended her hand for a shake. “Hello! I’m Cheyenne.”

“Howdy Cheyenne, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Brenda Sparks, one of Rowdy’s ex-wives!” Brenda giggled nervously.

“It’s nice to meet you Brenda, would you like to come in?” Cheyenne stepped to the side. She saw Brenda hesitate and look her over from head to toe.

“Sorry, I don’t have time to visit. I spoke to Rowdy on the phone yesterday. He said it would be okay if we left our steers here for a few days.

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My husband is up at the pens unloading the cattle, maybe another time.” Brenda couldn’t believe Rowdy had found himself such an amazing woman. She thought. Old Rowdy’s out done himself. Where’d he find this one?

As if reading her mind, Cheyenne took a drink of the Margarita and smiled coyly.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you, ma’am! I just wanted Rowdy to know we dropped off the steers,” Brenda appeared to be uncomfortable with the situation.

“He’s coming down the driveway right now. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”

Rowdy jumped out of his pickup and ran up to where they were standing. He gave Brenda a big hug and kiss on the cheek. Cheyenne wondered why he was so happy to see his ex-wife. She relaxed when he turned and gave her a hug and kiss too.

“It’s about time you got here. Lunch is getting cold.” She took another sip of her drink.

Brenda chattered away explaining what was going on in her life. She made a lame attempt to include Cheyenne in the conversation. Her husband joined them in the yard. Dick Sparks had a friendly grin on his face. It amused Cheyenne, seeing the way he was dressed. She thought. Those spurs

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and the Wranglers tucked into those fancy boots won’t cut it around here cowboy! He wore a red bandana around his neck, and a ten-gallon cowboy hat. Holding out a hand for a shake, he nodded toward Cheyenne.

“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am! Brenda has told me a lot about you, Rowdy! She talked me into moving back to Freedom. My little bride wasn’t very happy in Texas. Thanks a lot for letting me put the steers in your pasture. I’ll pick them up in a few days,” Dick grinned and spit out a large brown chew of tobacco on the ground.

“No problem. Leave them here as long as you like. Let me know when you’re ready to move them. I’ll give you a hand.” Rowdy shook Dick’s hand. Taking a sip from the red plastic cup, Cheyenne thought. Sure Rowdy, let him keep them here forever. We need to take care of your ex-wife. Why not let Dick and Brenda take advantage of you like everyone else in this town.

Feeling uncomfortable, Brenda took Dick’s hand anxious to leave. Rowdy and Cheyenne walked with them to their truck, making small talk.

“Good to see you again Harrison, it’s been a long time. It’s so nice to meet you, Cheyenne. I hope to see you again real soon!” Brenda smiled coyly with a foot on the running board as if she was in a hurry to leave.

“The same to you Brenda, you’re welcome to stop by any time!” Cheyenne took another long drink from the red plastic cup.

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“What are you drinking?” Brenda asked.

“It’s a Margarita, would you like a taste?” Cheyenne handed her the cup.

“Sure enough would, thank you.” Taking the drink from her, Brenda got into the truck. Dick started it up and they pulled away.

“Son-of-a-bitch, your sweet ex-wife just stole my drink,” Cheyenne seethed. She saw Brenda take a long drink and smirk as she waved good- bye. Rowdy thought. Women! I’ll never understand what makes them tick.

“Tell me more about sweet Brenda.” Cheyenne frowned as she watched the old cattle truck roll down the dusty road.

“Don’t mind her. She’s okay. After our divorce she moved to Texas. I haven’t seen her in a very long time. She still looks pretty good for an old broad.” Rowdy grinned. He was happy that Brenda was back in town.

Seeing the look on his face, Cheyenne knew he still had feelings for his ex-wife.

“We parted friends after going together for a couple years, we got married. It all changed then. We were only together a year. When we divorced, I set out to rodeo and Brenda moved to Texas. That’s about it!” Rowdy looked sad.

Holding hands, they walked toward the bunkhouse.

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“Don’t hold the drink thing against her. She’s a good woman. Brenda’s never done anybody wrong. She was probably just thirsty.” Rowdy laughed. “Where’s the tequila? I’ll make you a fresh drink.” He kissed Cheyenne when they walked inside.

Rowdy was a fast thinking smooth talker. Despite it all, she’d liked his first ex-wife. The woman was pleasant enough. She looked like a hard worker. In a small way, Cheyenne felt sorry for her. Brenda was well respected in town. She had a lot of friends and family there. Although everyone liked her, they didn’t think much of her loud mouthed Texan husband.

Dick Sparks moved into the county like a tornado. His attitude, and actions, made the locals skeptical of his motives. He wasn’t a humble man. It was all for him or nothing at all. He was full of himself. Growing tiring of listening to him complain about life in Freedom, in the bar one night, Cheyenne suggested he’d be happier if he moved back to Texas.

Cheyenne imagined things weren’t so perfect between Brenda and Dick behind closed doors. Although everything seemed rosy on the outside, her intuition told her Brenda wasn’t happy. Dick continuously tried to take advantage of everyone in town. In Cheyenne’s eyes, he joined in the long line of losers around Freedom with a hand out, and no money in their pocket. It didn’t take long for Rowdy to wise up, and when Dick left the steers at the ranch for over a month without paying for their feed, Rowdy ran

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him off. He set the steers loose to run down the highway. Rowdy had a cowboy way of getting even.

Spending several hours one day, doing the laundry and cleaning the bunkhouse, Cheyenne put a roast in the crock pot. Rowdy had been in the fields most of the night harvesting wheat. Coming in to the bunkhouse for a break around noon, he plopped down in the worn recliner. Drifting off to sleep he complained of heat exhaustion. She walked into the bedroom and closed the door. Feeling tired, she fell onto the bed and closed her eyes. They were starving when they woke a few hours later. The smell of pot roast engulfed the bunkhouse. Cheyenne scurried around the kitchen putting finishing touches on dinner. Hoping to camouflage the dismal surroundings, she lit a half-burned candle for the centerpiece; and set a table for two. Minutes after they sat down to eat, they heard the dogs bark. She thought. Who’s here now? It’s tough to have any peace and quiet in this hell hole!

Hearing Carey Baker, Rowdy’s cousin, pound on the door, she cringed. Without being invited in, Carey pushed open the door.

“Is supper ready? Something sure smells good!” He rubbed his large round stomach and smiled a crooked smile.

“Evening, Carey! We just sat down for supper. Would you like to join us,” Rowdy asked seeing Cheyenne roll her eyes.

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“I sure don’t want to impose, but something smells real good. I’ve never been one to turn down a hot meal!” Carey eagerly pulled up a chair.

Rowdy’s cousin was a lonely old bachelor who lived on a large ranch several miles out in the country. He was in the habit of showing up at the bunkhouse around dinner-time. Cheyenne was tired of feeding him.

Angrily slamming another place setting down on the table; Cheyenne filled Carey’s plate with fried okra, ranch beans, mashed potatoes, gravy, and two thick slices of roast beef. Within minutes, he had devoured everything on his plate. Eating like he hadn’t eaten in weeks, he scraped the plate clean. When he finished, he pushed away from the table, and moved like a slug toward Rowdy’s favorite recliner.

“I was thinking I’d lease you kids my ranch. It’s obvious you need more room for your bulls, and cattle. I’d be reasonable, maybe charge you just twenty-five thousand for a year’s lease.” Carey stuffed a tooth pick between his front teeth and plopped down in the recliner. Cheyenne smiled when she saw him rub his full stomach.

Quietly clearing the table, Cheyenne couldn’t believe Carey would suggest they rent his ranch. Waiting for Rowdy to say no, she nearly dropped to the stack of dishes when he agreed.

“That sounds like a great idea, Carey! We’ll take it! Write him a check, baby!” Rowdy pushed away from the table looking satisfied and smug.

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“Sure we will! Where’s your checkbook?” she asked, not fully recovered from what she’d just heard.

“Trust me! I don’t have any money in my account. You’ll need to cover it for now,” Rowdy picked his teeth. Taking a drink of wine, he saw her glare at him from across the room.

Slamming the dirty dishes into the sink, she wiped her hands on a dish towel and moved toward the desk. Taking her checkbook from the drawer, she wrote the check. Scribbling her signature, she tore it out and threw it toward Carey.

“Y’all got any chew?” Carey asked. Folding the check in half, he put it into a wrinkled shirt pocket

Rolling his eyes, Rowdy handed Carey an opened can of Copenhagen. Watching in disgust, Cheyenne saw him stick a fat tongue into the can and scoop out a chew. Rowdy pitched the half-full can into the garbage when Carey gave it back.

Pushing back the recliner, Carey relaxed and enjoyed the snuff.

“What are we watching?” Carey kicked off his shoes and when he grinned, brown chew ran down his unshaven chin.

“You boys can watch whatever you like! I'm going to bed,” Cheyenne glared at the men with hands on her hips.

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Leaving Rowdy alone to entertain his irritating cousin, Cheyenne walked into the bedroom and slammed the door shut behind her. Throwing herself onto the bed, she buried her face in the pillow, and cried herself to sleep.

“Wake up, Carey! It’s time for you to go home. I’m ready for bed!” When he woke from a nap on the couch a few hours later, Rowdy was surprised to see Carey was still there. He sat slouched over in the recliner nonchalantly flicking through the TV channels.

Hearing the door open and close, Cheyenne was awake. She kept her eyes closed when Rowdy came into the bedroom. She was silent when she felt him lie down beside her.

“I’ll pay you back every dime when I sell the cattle in the fall.” He hoped she’d gotten over being upset.

In no mood for anymore promises, Cheyenne didn’t respond. Within minutes she felt Rowdy relax and heard his deep snore. Praying for answers, she was awake most of the night, praying the madness would end.

Up early the next morning, Rowdy called his friends and bragged about renting the Baker Ranch. He asked them to help him move the cattle that afternoon. Seeing Cheyenne was still in a foul mood, he planned to stay out of her way

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They leased the large ranch for several years. Cheyenne occasionally enjoyed riding along with Rowdy over the spacious parcel of land, to check on the grazing herd.

Driving across the vast ranch land one day, Cheyenne imagined they were alone. They had driven for miles, searching for lost cattle. Coming around a corner on the dusty road, she was surprised to see a Mexican family gathered under a lone tall tree.

“Baby, we are in luck! It’s Sophia and her family. I’m going to go get us a fish taco!” Rowdy was happy to see them.

Cranking the steering wheel hard to the left; he drove fast through the tall prairie grass toward the gathering.

“What do you mean you’re going to have a taco? Who are these people? Why are they here?” She didn’t understand why the trespassers would be picnicking on their land.

Rowdy ignored her concerns. Bouncing up and down on the truck seat, they made their way across rocky ground toward the picnic.

“Lighten up you haven’t lived until you’ve eaten one of Sophia’s fish tacos!” Rowdy said and laughed out loud.

As they got closer, Cheyenne saw the intruder’s wave and smile, acting as though they were happy to see them.

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“It’s the Juarez family. They work for Carey. They’re just having a Sunday picnic. Do you want a taco?” Rowdy asked pulling the truck close to the tree.

“I’m not hungry. I don’t want to eat their food.”

“Sophia makes the best fish tacos in town! I’m going for one! Are you sure you won’t join me,” he asked again.

There was no changing his mind. Coming to an abrupt stop, he turned off the engine and jumped out of the truck. Cheyenne saw him join in the party. He drank down a can of Tecate beer, and scarfed down a fish taco.

“Thank you Sophia, I owe you! You’re the best! Enjoy the day with your family!” He finally returned to the truck.

She saw him open the ice chest, and take out a couple of beers. Opening the door he jumped inside and popped open the Budweiser. Handing her a beer, he smiled when she drank it down fast. She was hot and thirsty. The cold beer went down like water. They continued on their quest to find the cattle. As they drove they discussed the Mexican family, their bulls and the summer rodeo schedule.

“Everyone in the Juarez family has worked for my dad at one time or another. I intend to hire Juan to work for me this fall. He’s a hard worker, works cheap. I don’t have to pay him much.”

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Cheyenne moved across the seat. She kissed Rowdy on the cheek, and wiped red sauce from his lips.

“It sounds good to me! You can hire Sophia to be your cook! I need a vacation. You know, Rowdy, I feel like a movie star when I’m with you!” She changed the subject.

“Why do you say that?” he asked shaking his head.

“Because riding around in this damned old truck reminds me of Ma and Pa Kettle. Do you remember them? I watched them on TV when I was a kid. I feel like Ma! You look quite a bit like old Pa Kettle himself!” She laughed out loud.

It was Sunday afternoon. Cheyenne was impressed Rowdy had taken the day off. She felt it was important for their relationship to spend quality time together. She loved that she could be herself with him. There was no pretending, she didn’t have to put on airs like she’d done with Ryan.

A few hours later, when the sun began to go down in the west, Rowdy turned the truck toward the ranch. She was sad the long day was coming to an end.

“Damn it! I wish we had a clean home to go to, instead of the rat infested bunkhouse.” She sadly meant what she said.

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“What are you saying? Is it time for you to take another break? Maybe you should take a trip to Arizona. Get out of here for a while.” He recognized the sad look on her face and the faraway look in her eyes.

“A break would be good.” She nodded. She hadn’t yet told him, she planned to leave the next day.

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CHAPTER TEN

Cheyenne was always at her best when her home life was in order. It was no different living in Freedom. She realized the bunkhouse wasn’t her home, yet she constantly worked to maintain it. There were days when she felt like she was beating her head against the wall. She hoped Rowdy and Shane appreciated her efforts. She cleaned for her own self-satisfaction. Cheyenne was worn out. There were days when she felt like she’d been banished to the end of the earth. Life on the ranch was far removed from the luxury lifestyle she shared with Ryan. She didn’t understand what motivated her. Where did the desire to succeed come from? Was it to mask the hurt she felt inside? As long as she was busy, she didn’t have time to feel the pain. If she could make it in Freedom, Oklahoma, she could make it anywhere.

Despite the love she felt for the cowboy, Cheyenne despised the old bunkhouse; and the squalor. She sometimes likened her life to being in prison. Although she tried to row with the flow, she hated her disgusting environment. She found no satisfaction in the daily routine of picking up 210

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after, Rowdy and Shane. It was a thankless job. She was never convinced they appreciated her efforts. Giving up on the idea of changing Rowdy’s bachelor housekeeping ways; Cheyenne planned how she would one day escape from the dirty bunkhouse.

Rowdy owned a small building lot in the town of Freedom, and Cheyenne envisioned herself living comfortably in a double-wide on the site.

“You never use the lot in town. Deed it to me. I’ll put a mobile home on the lot and have a place to call home. The bunkhouse suits you and Shane; I don’t belong there. We’ll consider it partial payment for the money you owe me.”

She dreamed of again living in a place where everything was in order. She needed somewhere she could go to escape the chaotic life on the ranch.

“No problem! I think it’s a great idea. You deserve a place of your own. Shane and I will get back to living like we used to.” Rowdy thought it was a good idea.

She bought a small, used, fifty-foot trailer and moved it onto the vacant lot. Working night and day for several weeks, Cheyenne tried to bring the mobile home up to her standards. She painted the paneled walls in the living room, and hung wallpaper in the bedroom. She laid new carpet, tiled the kitchen and bathroom floors, refinished the cupboards, and hung pretty

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checkered curtains on the windows. When the remodel was finished, she believed she’d created a castle.

However, in no time, Rowdy missed not having her at the bunkhouse. Days after she moved in, he began to spend the nights with her. Her solitude was short-lived. Soon Cheyenne’s castle was cluttered with Rowdy’s belongings. Shane dropped by the trailer every day after school, sometimes inviting his friends in to watch TV and surf the net on her computer.

The old timers in town looked down their noses at the trailer. She was the talk of the town. Gossip spread, and rumors flew that she’d moved out on Rowdy. She stopped by the cafe on the main street one day and ordered a burger to go. Glancing around the crowded café, she saw one of her least favorite people. Lucky Wilson glare at her from across the room. Opening his big mouth wide; he raised bushy eyebrows seeing her take a seat near the front door.

“Good afternoon Ms. Trailer Trash. How you doing today? Are you enjoying your new home? I see y’all got it fixed up pretty nice, I hear you booted ole’ Rowdy out. When are you going to invite me for supper?” Lucky smiled a toothless grin.

“I’m doing great thanks.” She thought. I’m in no mood to take any crap from you! She was determined not to let the bum ruin her day.

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Seeing her order was ready, she walked toward the cash register to pay the bill. Lucky Wilson glared at her across the room without saying another word. She wished she hadn’t come into the café. She didn’t like the old bachelor. She didn’t trust him. She thought. I’d better ask Rowdy to spend the night tonight so Lucky will stay away from my door.

A variety of misfits surrounded her in the restaurant. Her thoughts ran wild. Suddenly feeling paranoid, she was anxious to get back to the safety of her trailer. She thought. I might be trailer trash to the idiot, Lucky Wilson. What in the hell does he know. He’s the white trash. Screw them all! The bastards will never know anything about me. Let them keep guessing.

Cheyenne didn't consider herself, trailer trash. Yet she knew her old friends might think so if they could see where she lived. There were days her environment made her feel like poor white trash. She’d be damned if she’d admit it to anyone, especially the creep, Lucky Wilson.

For the first few weeks, Cheyenne enjoyed her new home. Feeling guilty about leaving Shane alone at the bunkhouse, Rowdy soon tired of spending nights with her in town.

“The trailer wasn’t such a good idea. I can’t run back and forth. I need to be home to fix Shane’s meals and take care of him. I know you worked hard. The trailer looks nice. It’s clean! This isn’t the kind of life I want. Come

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home Cheyenne. If you want to be a part of my life, you’ll have to accept things as they are.” Rowdy frowned and sucked down a cold beer.

“I can’t stay here alone at night. Every creep in town will be knocking at the door. You’re right I’ll sell the trailer! I thought it was a good idea, but I was wrong. I’m sorry Rowdy. I’ll move home.” She felt defeated. It surprised her to hear him agree she should return to the ranch.

“That’s a good idea. I know you’ve worked hard to create your castle, but damn it I’m a rancher. I don’t like living in town, I like it on the farm. I feel penned up here. Trailer life doesn’t suit me. Please understand.” Rowdy hugged her close and nuzzled his face in her hair.

“Will you remodel the bunkhouse? Maybe add another room? I’d like a new kitchen and bathroom.”

Rowdy promised he would, and she sold the trailer. Unfortunately nothing changed when she moved back to the ranch. In no time they fell back into the old routine. Rowdy sometimes talked about fixing up the old bunkhouse, but he never did. Cheyenne lie awake at night trying to come up with a solution, but nothing came to mind. It painstakingly re-occurred to her, she’d created a monster. She frantically tried to figure out how to make things better.

Time flew by. Cheyenne found herself spending more and more time in Freedom. She bought the thirty-five-hundred-acre ranch bordering Rowdy’s

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parents’ farm, hoping the two hundred and fifty dollars an acre she'd paid was fair. Coping with her hasty decisions, she deemed the Freedom investment an opportunity to leave a mark on the world, in a way most sane women would never do. She wanted to set an example, leave a legacy, or perhaps somehow encourage others to follow their dreams. A tenacious woman with high values and strong beliefs, Cheyenne prayed everything would turn out okay.

Without thinking of the consequences, she continued to invest large amounts of money in Oklahoma, with no one to turn to for financial advice. She soon saw a side of Rowdy she hadn’t seen before. He wasn’t living up to his promises. He seemed to be drinking a lot more, and he was reckless with money. The alcohol he drank daily affected his thought process, and it worried her.

Her life with Ryan was over. The divorce would be final soon. For twenty years he’d been her best friend, and closest advisor. He’d barely speak to her now. Her daughters were busy with their own lives. She knew her friends would just tell her to come home if she asked them for advice. The only solution she came up with, after weeks of sleepless nights, was to make the most of the cards she’d been dealt.

With God’s help, she unrealistically believed, she could turn the hell into paradise. Pulling herself together, she wiped defeatist thoughts from her mind. She faced each new day with a smile, burying the tears in her heart.

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She was too proud to let anyone know the defeat she felt inside. Cheyenne was no quitter. Having no one to turn to, she asked God for advice.

“There must be a reason I'm here oh Lord. What is it? I’m running out of patience. Thank you for showing me why I’m in Freedom. I’m here to serve you Lord. Thank you for your love and understanding.”

Saying her daily prayers, she continued to put one foot in front of the other. Living each day as if it were her last, she took one day at a time.

She didn’t cry much anymore. She stopped complaining and helped out wherever she was needed. Rowdy wondered if her spirit was broken. Cheyenne walked around in a daze, praying something good would come her way. She kept going forward, believing good times were just around the bend.

Her least favorite chore was the laundry. It was dangerous to spend time in the moldy basement laundry room. Doing the weekly laundry took a great deal of courage. Cheyenne considered the dark, dirty, damp hole in the wall life threatening. The washer and dryer were located in the basement of Rowdy’s parent’s old farmhouse. She’d heard one too many of his childhood stories.

“I slept there a lot when I was a young boy. If I was in trouble, my dad would banish me to the basement. When the ranch hands were drunk it was a place to retreat from the terror I sometimes faced in the bunkhouse.”

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Once a week, strictly out of the love for a cowboy, Cheyenne would creep into the basement laundry room. Determined to prove she could overcome any obstacle, she ignored the stinky mouse droppings and cob webs in every corner. Cringing each time she walked in, she never went there without wondering what her fate would be.

A single light bulb hung in the middle of the musty room. An awful smell came from the mold, and the piles of dirty, muddy clothes scattered around the basement floor. She’d only go there when it was absolutely necessary. She’d throw the dirty clothes into the washer, without first checking pockets, for fear she’d be bit by a spider. She never turned the socks right-side out, or sorted the whites from the darks. Filling the washer to the brim, she’d dump in the soap, turn it on and run for the door. Returning later to throw the wet clothes into the dryer, she devised a system where she could usually be out of there by the count of ten. She'd beg Rowdy to retrieve the clean clothes, hoping to avoid the trauma it caused just opening the broken down screen door. When she sometimes found a rumpled ten or twenty-dollar bill in the dryer, she stuff the money into her bra, thanking God for receiving pay for her efforts.

One day when Rowdy was in the fields, she looked for something to do to spend the day. Seeing the dirty farm trucks lined up by the barn, she pulled out the garden hose and went to work. She’d almost finished washing the last truck when she saw a car drive down the dirt driveway and stop in

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front of the farmhouse. Standing in the back of the truck with soapsuds up to her elbows, she saw an old man slowly crawl out. Without smiling, he pointed to her.

“Girly, I don’t know who you are or where you come from, but you sure do know how to waste good water!” He stood watching her for several minutes.

Assuming he was there to visit Wilbur and Arlene, Cheyenne ignored him. The old mane finally stumbled toward the farmhouse. Laughing remembering the odd look on his face she sprayed the red mud off the silver pickup. When the last truck was clean, she was proud of her hard work. No cranky farmer was going to ruin her day. Putting away the hose, she dumped the dirty bucket of water and walked down the hill toward the bunkhouse. She was excited for Rowdy to come home and see his clean trucks.

“Did you see the clean trucks? There’s a cranky old man up visiting your parents. He scolded me for wasting water. Who’s the mean old fart?” She asked when Rowdy walked through the door.

“Thanks for the effort, Cheyenne. I tend to agree with Uncle Wyman. It was a waste of water,” Rowdy smiled not wanting to upset her. Seeing the angry look on her face, he hugged her. “The trucks look great! Uncle Wyman was probably just jealous he doesn’t have someone like you around to wash his truck!”

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Rowdy smiled. He walked to the refrigerator. Opening two beers, he offered her one.

Taking the Bud Light from him she took a swig. She thought. Where I come from people consider it normal to have a clean truck. Not in Freedom! Here they call a car wash a good hard rain!

Wyman’s scolding didn’t do much good. When Cheyenne took Rowdy’s truck into Woodward for groceries, she drove it through a carwash. Placing quarters into the control box, she inched the pickup into the washing stall. Seeing the water spray, she looked in the rear view mirror, immediately feeling sick to her stomach. The back end filled with water, saturating the cattle feed. She hoped it would dry out on the way back to the ranch. But it didn’t. Seeing Rowdy standing by the barn, she pulled up next to him. Water still dripped from the pickup bed. He looked at her cross-eyed. “Baby I’m so sorry! I had no idea there was feed in the back. I wanted to surprise you with a clean truck.”

Shaking his head in silence, Rowdy stared at the ruined cattle feed. “When are you going to learn? Use your head, girl! You don’t need to wash my truck!” Seeing the tears in her eyes, he forgave her again.

Seeing how upset he was, she thought. What was my lesson today, God? Don’t test a cowboy’s patience? Despite the damage she’d caused, they made up when Cheyenne agreed to stop washing the farm trucks.

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There were days when Cheyenne couldn’t take anymore. She’d gather up her makeup from the bathroom, drag her suitcases out from beneath the bed, and prepare to leave. Rowdy didn’t like to see her go, but he understood a woman of her caliber wouldn’t stick around his mess for long. Expecting she may leave for good one day, he knew he wouldn’t have the heart to stop her. Each time she left, all he could do was hope she’d come back.

Helping her load the suitcases into the back of her truck the next day, he held her close feeling helpless. They kissed good-bye. His heart ached seeing her back down the dusty driveway. He could sense when she’d reached her limit. He’d feel her withdraw and see her silently stare out the bunkhouse window. He’d seen it many times. He always knew when Cheyenne was ready to jump ship. He had no option but to let her go. When the ranch world came down on her, Cheyenne walked away. She’d leave Freedom for weeks at a time, returning to sanctity of life far removed from the ugliness of the farm.

She enjoyed visiting with her family and friends. Whether in Washington, Arizona or Puerto Vallarta she loved being where things were clean and in order. When her sanity returned, she’d book a flight back to Freedom. As ruthless and crazy as it seemed, she’d miss her Freedom life after spending a few weeks away. She was in love with Rowdy and made it a point to focus on the good rather than the bad. She was afraid to stay away too long knowing she had a large financial investment to worry about.

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Returning to Freedom, time after time, she’d come back refreshed and ready to tackle whatever God had in mind. Rowdy was always there to greet her with open arms and a large stack of unpaid bills. No matter how hard she tried to get to the bottom of his bills, there were always more.

Rocking A’s rodeo bulls were some of the best in the country. The cowboys liked them and so did the rodeo fans. Rowdy and Cheyenne leased several of their best bulls to Billy Jackson, a dishonest stock contractor from Kansas. Billy was a short, stocky, cocky cowboy with a large smile, and a crooked heart. He never gave them a cent for using their bulls. Cheyenne’s red hair stood on end, when Billy claimed they were his bulls. He took all the credit. The bulls were nominated to perform at the National Finals Rodeo in Las Vegas two years in a row. Billy took all the credit. He received the money, the belt buckles, the jackets, and the glory. Cheyenne got nothing for her investment except more heartache.

Billy’s father was a successful stock contractor. When he died Billy ran his business into the ground. Cheyenne’s bulls saved him from going under for a couple of years, but eventually he went broke. Her bulls helped him to stay in business longer than anyone predicted he would. Life was good for old Billy Jackson when he was bucking their bulls at every rodeo and claiming they were his.

Monster Mash was nominated to perform in Vegas in 1998, and Cheyenne was thrilled. Bull Durham and Cobra were there too. Chris

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Shivers rode Monster Mash receiving a 95 point score on the final night. Shivers won the championship, and Monster Mash was featured on television as the “Bull of the Night.” Although she was proud, she never got paid. Seeing Billy Jackson enjoy the fame and glory and front row seats at the finals, curled her toes. Rowdy and Cheyenne sat in the back row watching Billy prance around the arena like a cock on a walk. Cheyenne and Rowdy’s bulls brought Billy a lot of favorable attention. Sensing he was uncomfortable around her, she understood why. He owed her tens of thousands of dollars for bucking her bulls. Seeing Billy wear the big silver belt buckle Monster Mash won at the NFR, she thought. He’s a frigging loser and user. I’ll put a stop to this bull shit!

Returning to Freedom after the 1999 NFR, Cheyenne was furious. “Why own rodeo bulls if we get no credit? Billy’s a crook. He needs to pay us every time they buck.” It made her furious to always be taken advantage of.

Over the next several weeks, the bulls continued to perform at rodeos in Kansas and Oklahoma. The fans and cowboys believed their bulls belonged to Billy. They didn’t! Cheyenne was mad as hell. She was determined everyone would know they belonged to Rocking A Rodeo company. It burned her to know the awards and credits the bulls received hung on Billy’s ranch walls. She was fed up with the unfair situation. “Get your butt to Kansas and bring the bull’s home. Pick up a check from Billy. Don’t come home without it.” Cheyenne was fit to be tied. She was finished. Billy

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Jackson could go to hell. Rowdy left for Kansas the next morning. Driving the red Ford diesel truck he towed the stock trailer behind him. He brought the bulls' home, but Cheyenne never saw a check. Rowdy stayed out of her way for a few days, waiting for her to calm down.

After five years of disappointment and worry, their bull breeding business finally took off. They earned the reputation in the industry of having a great pen of bulls. When the word got out they had bulls to ride, she saw a new breed of young cowboys move into Freedom. They came from Kansas, Texas, Eastern Oklahoma and other parts unknown. They were down-and-out drifters with no worldly possessions of their own; except a dirty old pickup truck, bull rope, and a pair of dusty spurs.

They came looking for glory and the power an occasional winning ride gave them. Most of the bull riders Cheyenne met in Freedom were cowards and thieves. They possessed a cowboy way of weaseling their free loading way into her life. Some would often stay the night at the ranch. They rode the wild bulls, and broke Rowdy’s horses. The drifters stole their tack and anything else they thought had value, driving away with a big smile and a large wave. “See ya’ll soon!” they would say with a grin, thinking the world owed them something. Many of them were fun loving, good looking--beer drinking fools. She learned to distrust them all.

The Freedom Saloon was busy every night of the week. The young cowboys gathered there to boast about the bulls they rode. They talked about

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how long they stayed on, when their injuries would heal, and what scores they had received on their winning rides. Many of them were drunks. In her eyes they were all losers. Ignoring their obvious faults, Rowdy would take them in like they were his sons. The kinder he was to the rebels, the more they took advantage. She wanted them around was when they were training young bulls. There were always plenty around to take the challenge. They had no fear. Sitting happily, high on the bull’s back, they would wrap the leather strap around their right hand, clamp their spurs into the bull’s flanks, and pull their hat down over their ears. Ready to ride, they would nod to the cowboys on the ground to open the gate.

Many Freedom bull riders were cocky young amateurs who’d get thrown in the dirt every time they got on. They would ride for one second and ditch; or sometimes make a three or four second ride. Rarely did any of them stay on for eight-seconds. A handful of professional riders would occasionally stop by the ranch for a cold beer, or sometimes to hunt for deer. They didn’t stay in Freedom for long. The smarter, more successful ones knew they better have an option when they didn’t win the world. A bull rider’s career was relatively short-lived. The dumber ones continued to ride bulls long after they should have given it up. They would beg, borrow and steal to get enough money to pay their entry fees, but rarely took home a paycheck. Cheyenne wondered what motivated any of them to want to ride bulls.

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As time went by, Cheyenne increased the herd. She bought more bulls and cows. Each spring she’d be thrilled at the number of new babies born on the ranch. The herd grew fast. The cost of feed skyrocketed.

Attending a bull sale in Oklahoma City one weekend, she got caught up in the bidding frenzy. Spending close to fifty thousand dollars, she bought a Plummer bull named Stingray, a yellow Highlander they called Cookie Monster; and a handful of other’s sold by well-known breeders. Rowdy was excited and proud when they pulled into the ranch and unloaded a trailer full of new bulls. Word spread fast in the small town that Rowdy’s woman had added to the herd. Several people from town drove out to the ranch to take a look at the prize bulls. Money wasn’t an object; as long as it was Cheyenne writing the checks.

Developing a breeding program, they kept records. They knew which bulls were with which cows. When the new calves were born in the spring, they knew which bull had sired each calf. As the herd grew into more than four hundred, it became difficult to keep track of them on the large Baker Ranch. Cheyenne agreed to pay for new bull pens on Wilbur’s ranch. Writing checks she saw the steel fence posts go into the ground. The welder worked seven days a week expertly welding the pipes together. Rowdy bragged they had the best set of bull pens in the country. Every other day the plans changed. They would add an extra chute or one more corral. The new corrals became bigger and bigger.

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“They’re big enough.” Without giving it much thought, she spent another sixty-five thousand dollars.

Wilbur and Jake drove past the expensive project several times a week. Jake convinced Wilbur his taxes would go up because of the high dollar value of the corrals. Wilbur brought it up one evening during dinner.

“If my taxes go up, you’ll pay for it.” Cheyenne thought. Why not! I’m paying for everything else around here.

The old farm trucks were either in the repair shop, or broken down along the highway. They bought used replacement farm trucks two or three times a year. Cheyenne paid for two used farm trucks; she bought a tall metal feed storage bin to hold the cattle feed, and began to pay wages to the new hired hands, Ronnie and Jimmie.

The two new Ford diesel F-350 pickup trucks weren’t so shiny anymore. Red mud was caked up under their fenders. The back tail gate was missing on the red dually. The eighty-thousand-dollar investment she'd made on the two trucks was a total waste of good money. They soon looked like wrecking yard junk. It drove Cheyenne crazy. She was used to keeping her vehicles immaculate. It was impossible to keep anything clean on the ranch. The trucks, trailers, boots-- the bunkhouse – nothing was clean. No one, but Cheyenne seemed to give a rat’s ass.

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The red Ford diesel truck rarely went down the highway with loads of bulls anymore. Cheyenne was upset seeing the hands use it as a feed truck. She wondered. If they paid forty-five thousand for a truck, would they take better care of it? She cried just thinking about it. Suddenly the tears stopped. She smiled remembering one of her mother’s sayings. What's the sense of crying over spilled milk?

The wind usually blew hard from the north. The day was cold. Upset, Cheyenne ran toward the bunkhouse. She wanted to escape, shut the doors and stop the ugly things running through her head. She thought. Shape up! You’re here for a reason. Everything will be okay. There’s no sense in losing your mind. You can do it. Don't let them get the best of you! Better days are just around the corner! Praying for answers, no answers came.

The next day, Rowdy’s stepson Trevor and Shane, took the red Ford truck and trailer to Shattuck to pick up a load of bulls from a feed lot. On their way back to the ranch, he wrecked the truck beyond repair. Trevor drove the truck into the front door of Lyon's Home Furnishings in Woodward, later laughing about the damage he’d cause.

“He was flirting with a cute girl driving alongside him. He wasn’t paying attention to his driving,” Shane ratted on his step-brother when she questioned him about the accident.

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Trevor, of course, denied being at fault. Nevertheless, the truck was history. Trevor and Shane weren't hurt, and the bulls came out unscathed. Cheyenne’s pride, however, took another nosedive. Her distrust and hate for Trevor grew like smoldering lava. She despised the cocky, good-for-nothing, short, ungrateful little prick. Trevor was along for a free ride. His mother, Wilma, deserted him years before. He'd never been taught right from wrong. During the short time Rowdy was married to Wilma, he’d accepted Trevor as his own. When they divorced, Trevor moved in with his real dad. Shane and Sally considered Trevor their big brother. She listened in dismay as they constantly made excuses for him.

Trevor moved back to the ranch shortly after Cheyenne arrived. His own father kicked him out. Trevor came back in search of a free-loading life he couldn’t have anywhere else. He was a misfit and troublemaker. An addicted gambler, he owed a lot of money to bookies. Trevor didn’t belong on the ranch. He hadn’t earned the privilege of being there. Balking at the hard work, he blamed everyone else for his problems and mistakes. He didn’t set a very good example for his younger siblings. Although she knew he hadn’t had much of a chance in life, very time she’d show any sympathy, he’d screw up again. She tried getting along with Trevor, and Wilma, but she found it impossible. Rowdy continued to take Trevor in when he was down and out. If he bought Shane a new pair of boots, he bought his ungrateful stepson a pair too. That’s just how it was. There was no changing it. Rowdy didn’t owe the greedy brat a thing. He’d take Trevor’s side regardless of the

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argument. Everyone in Freedom knew, if you gave Trevor an inch, he’d take a mile. Rowdy eventually figure him out.

Trevor apparently inherited his worthless ways from his useless mother. She’d abandoned him when he was very young. Wilma moved from Freedom for several years, living wherever her miserable, drugged, ass landed. Cheyenne had no respect for the kid’s mother. She thought. They would be better off if she stayed away.

Wilma returned to Freedom, when she saw how Rowdy’s life had improved. Her childish antics constantly got under Cheyenne’s skin. It was the small, petty, stupid things she’d do that drove her crazy. Like a bad weed, Wilma just wouldn’t go away. She’d show up at the ranch in a bikini, and beg Rowdy to saddle a horse for her to ride. After she bought the ranch, Wilma talked Trevor into taking her for a drive down on the ranch, in Cheyenne’s truck to pick up rocks for her yard. When she found out, Cheyenne threw a fit.

“Trevor is not allowed to drive my truck, and Wilma is not welcome on my ranch! Do you understand me, cowboy?” Cheyenne was fed up with everyone, and everything, going on around her.

Wilma had a loud, sassy mouth. She had a tough time keeping it shut. Seeing no one was around to hear except Cheyenne, she’d constantly try to

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provoke her. She’d say stupid things knowing it would cause trouble. When she heard Cheyenne forbid her to ride in her truck, she was mad.

“I hear you sell rocks for a living, Cheyenne,” Wilma smirked.

Realizing she should probably consider the source and ignore the bitch, she couldn’t hold back.

“I paid a lot of money for the big old ranch. If I have to sell rocks to make the payments, I’ll sell rocks. I’m telling you my friend to keep your uneducated ass off my property, and out of my truck!” Cheyenne grew tired of the craziness.

Rowdy’s ex-wife wouldn’t go away. She’d show up in short shorts and a bikini top at the rodeo arena when they bucked their bulls. It embarrassed Shane and she knew it embarrassed Rowdy. No one could control Wilma. She’d lay back on the bleachers with her legs spread as if to say, Look at me! Want some of this?

Cheyenne felt sorry for her kids. The woman came around to humiliate Rowdy. She wasn’t there to support her son’s bull riding. Everyone in town thought agreed she was a psycho mental case. She was a thorn in their side. Rowdy hated her, but he wouldn’t stand up to her. Cheyenne could never understand why he put up with her childish behavior.

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“I’d tell her what to do with it, if I were you! You’re not married to her! Run her ass out of Freedom!” Cheyenne was fed up with the bitch.

“Unfortunately she’s the kids’ mother. I won’t do anything to hurt the kids. They’ve already been hurt. Nothing will stop Wilma. She’s an attention whore. Ignore her. She’s worthless as tits on a boar!” Rowdy was unhappy to constantly be put in the middle.

Finally understanding where Rowdy was coming from, Cheyenne resolved to consider the woman one of the kids. She couldn’t consider her an adult, she behaved like a child. Her drug use had obviously affected her brain. Knowing she was a drug addict made it easier for Cheyenne eventually to tolerate Rowdy’s second ex-wife. She never learned to like her. It made her laugh to see Wilma behave like she had something over on Rowdy. She knew about his past. He’d shared everything with her. The women were as different as night and day. Cheyenne had class. His ex-wife was just a pain in the ass. Rowdy likened their relationship to a lion and a mouse living in the same world. Cheyenne knew she was the lion!

Trevor and his mother were a small part of the large, complicated picture. Cheyenne compared her life to Elizabeth Taylor’s role in the movie Giant. She was surrounded by greed, moral dissipation, racism, oil wells, and oppression. Trevor could have easily played the part of James Dean. Rowdy resembled Dennis Hopper.

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Unfortunately, it wasn’t a re-run of an old movie. It was Cheyenne’s true life story. She lived it on a day-to-day basis. Good or bad, right or wrong! She was determined to make the best of it. Cheyenne wasn’t a quitter!

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CHAPTER ELEVEN

When the corrals were finished at Wilbur’s ranch, Rowdy began to wish out loud again. He knew by then how to work Cheyenne; and when to turn on his cowboy charm.

“We need an arena. It would be much easier to train the bulls closer to the ranch. It’s a pain in the ass to drive six miles into Freedom and back to buck the bulls.” He hoped to convince her to go along with his plan.

“I won’t spend any more money making improvements on property I don’t own. Ask Walter to sell me the forty acres across the highway. If he agrees, I’ll think about it.” She felt used, and confused.

Rowdy agreed. He met with his father after dinner.

“We want to build a new arena. It’s too far to take the bulls into town every time they need to be bucked. Will you sell Cheyenne the forty acres next to the park? What do you think, Dad? It’s rocky land, not good for much. We don’t even farm it anymore,” Rowdy pleaded, without looking his father in the eye. 233

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“I agree. It’s not worth much. Cheyenne’s done a lot for you, son. Where does she get her money? You sure fell into a good situation. I’ll agree to sell it to her if it helps you out. Tell her I’ll sell it for sixteen thousand. I like the gal’s determination. I’m sure she’ll build something we’ll all be proud of.” Wilbur loudly cleared his throat. Spitting into the fireplace, he wiped at his chin with a tissue.

Rowdy was nervous about asking his dad about the property. Wilbur wasn’t one to part with his precious land. The forty acres had been in the family since the land rush. He couldn’t believe his good fortune when Wilbur agreed.

Paying the old man the asking price the ink barely dry on the deed, they broke ground. Cheyenne had no one to turn to for advice. She’d built a lot of things, but never a rodeo arena. Imagining what it should look like as the construction began, she listened to Rowdy’s ideas. He wanted a first class facility, giving no thought to the cost.

They went to work on the project. Rowdy built it his way, rarely taking Cheyenne’s suggestions. They argued about things like the high cost of pipe, labor, lighting; which chutes to buy, and how many pens they needed. Rowdy usually won the arguments. Cheyenne wrote the checks. She was shocked two months later to see it cost over a hundred and eighty-five thousand dollars. Rowdy was pleased they built a nicer arena than the one in

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Freedom. He’d insisted they add bleachers, restrooms, and an announcer stand.

“We’ll have all kinds of rodeo events here. Bull riding, bucking horses, barrel racing, team roping, penning, you name it. We’ve got everything we need right here. We’ll make a ton of money. People will pay to see what we have to offer.” He hoped to convince her, the large investment had been worth it. The new arena was perfect for training their bulls. He thought it was better than the arena in town.

When the arena was finished, the wheels began to turn in Cheyenne’s mind. She thought. If people are going to flock here to see the events, we’ll need a place for them to eat and sleep. The idea of building a steakhouse and lodge consumed her every waking moment.

“What do you think about building a restaurant and lodge? We’ll call it a guest ranch. People will come from miles to enjoy the solitude and live the western lifestyle! They’ll come to enjoy a good steak and pay good money to sleep in a nice room with a comfortable bed. I like the idea! We’ll make a fortune!” Although naïve, she was excited about the possibilities.

“Have you lost your ever loving mind? I’d agree on a small hamburger stand where we could sell cold beer. A motel and fancy restaurant is out of the question. People can camp out or sleep in their horse trailers if they come

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to watch the events. We don’t need a high dollar place. Freedom isn’t ready for it.” Rowdy was concerned. Cheyenne never did anything small.

Ignoring his concerns, she sketched out the plans in her head. He had his bull pens and his arena she’d have what she wanted. Cheyenne was determined to build something grand! Something the people in the area had never before seen. She imagined movie stars and celebrities would flock there for the solitude and privacy; and to play cowboy. In her mind it was perfect. There were three small airports within thirty minutes. Private pilots would fly there for dinner and spend the night. It would be a lavish place with brocade bedspreads and colored televisions in every room.

She’d make the rooms large and hang fluffy white robes in every bathroom. Her friends would come. They liked nice things. They would pay good money to stay, if it were a special place. She’d fill the rooms with antiques, and install plush carpets on the floors. Western art would hang on the walls. She’d build covered porches with porch swings and comfortable outside seating so her guests could enjoy the great outdoors. A hot tub would add to the ambiance.

Many times in the past, she’d designed and built strip malls, and speck homes, and car dealerships. She could easily build a restaurant and lodge. What would be so hard about it? Being an excellent promoter, she’d filled the rooms with wealthy guests from around the world. Cheyenne saw no limits to the possibilities.

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The divorce would be final soon, giving her an abundance of cash to finance her dreams. She was ready for another project, afraid if she stayed idle too long, she’d worry about her future. A creative woman, her homes were lavishly decorated. She had an eye for pulling things together and loved a challenge. It would be great fun to build and decorate a western lodge and restaurant.

Eager to share the western lifestyle she’d come to love, with the world, she believed Oklahoma was the perfect place to build a guest ranch. She pictured busloads of people arriving at the lodge, anxious to be a cowboy or a cowgirl, if only for a weekend.

Researching the demographics, she saw seventy-five thousand visitors a year came next door to visit Alabaster Cavern’s. Surely they would stay a night or two at the lodge, and stop in for a meal or a cold drink. She imagined a steady, wealthy clientele, before the doors were even open.

Concerned, Wilbur may think it a crazy idea, she worried he’d resent her for destroying the peace and quiet. She need not have worried.

Wilbur was very pleased with her plans. He gave her his blessings. “Several years ago, my wife, Arlene had a small cafe on the same land. It will be nice to have a restaurant close by again. If anyone can build it, it’s you, Cheyenne.” He was pleased with her plans. “You have my blessings.

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Good luck! I get to drink the first cold beer!” He grinned and wiped at his eyes.

“Thank you, Wilbur, you’re the best. I can’t wait to get started. I’ll make you proud! I promise!” She took his hand and lovingly kissed the old man on the cheek.

Cedar trees grew in abundance across the forty acres. The deep canyon to the north was traditionally known as Cedar Creek. Giving it great thought, Cheyenne named the new guest ranch, Cedar Creek Ranch and the Rusty Spur Café.

Her ambitious plans included a five-thousand-square-foot restaurant and eight-thousand-square-foot lodge. Allowing space for living quarters in the lodge plans, she saw it as an opportunity to escape the bunkhouse. Her motives for building a beautiful log facility were somewhat selfish. Thoughts of having a luxurious western style log home in a place like Freedom, Oklahoma was exciting. If for any reason the business wasn’t a success, at least she’d have a lovely home where she could live.

Wasting no further time, she hired a crew to tear down the dilapidated horse stables. Setting the rustic barn wood and tin roof to the side, she intended to use it for decorating the restaurant interior. Hiring an architect, she rushed him through the plans. By January 2000 construction was underway. Licensed contractors came from all over the state. Logs were

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ordered from Idaho, they arrived by the truck loads as workers poured yards of concrete foundations and retaining walls. She hired a firm from Shawnee to erect the buildings, and a local guy for the finish work.

Rowdy stood back in awe. He was amazed a woman was willing to take on such a project. He stayed out of her way, unless, on a rare occasion, she asked for help. Though it was a difficult project to complete, Cheyenne saw things go relatively smoothly. The construction activity gave the locals something to see. Shaking their heads, no one believed she’d build a log structure in the middle of the prairie. Impressed as things took shape, many said it looked out of place. It belonged in Colorado or Montana, not in Freedom, Oklahoma.

The days were long. Cheyenne worked effortlessly side by side with the laborers. Her days began early. She’d be at the site by seven in the morning, and the last one to leave at night. She believed anything was possible if you set your mind to it. Cheyenne’s mind was set. Seeing the progress made each day satisfied her persistent soul. She never faltered. She spoke her mind and stood up to the chauvinistic men she worked with each day. The men did it her way or took the highway. She didn’t take any crap from any one, knowing Rowdy was in the wings if she needed him.

Insisting the sub-contractors were certified and qualified for the job, she was surprised to find there were no building authorities in Woodward

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County to oversee the job. However, since it was a restaurant, the health department issued specific regulations. She made sure to follow every rule.

Encountering many obstacles along the way, she was determined to do something never before done in the area. Build a log building. Despite the challenge, she held steadfast, focusing on keeping a good attitude. She found a way to overcome every obstacle. Her biggest headache was the building contractor she hired from Shawnee. He was a novice, not as capable as he first held himself out to be. She didn't like his attitude or lack of good judgment. He was a deceptive crook. Putting up the log buildings took several months longer than he’d said it would. She was disappointed and disgusted by the quality of his workmanship. Considering herself to be a savvy businesswoman, she recognized it when someone tried to take advantage. It never took her long to put a stop to it. Fighting the inept log contractor every step of the way, Cheyenne’s ideas prevailed. She expected him to live up to his promises. Though it took him three months longer than he’d said it would, the buildings were finished at the end of the year.

The day she opened for business, she was shocked realizing she’d been in Freedom for four years. No one, including her, ever thought she’d stay so long.

Cheyenne and Rowdy celebrated the day the project was finished.

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“Can you believe it, baby? We made this happen. Aren’t you proud of this beautiful place?” At the time, she was very happy.

“It’s more than I had imagined it would ever be. Unfortunately, it’s not over; I think the hard work is just about to begin,” Rowdy frowned. “I can handle it. What else do I have to do? We’re going to work hard, but we’ll have plenty of fun along the way,” Cheyenne felt positive things would change for the better.

Opening a bottle of champagne, they drank the entire bottle sitting alone in the empty restaurant. They were exhausted as they walked down the hill toward the new apartment in the lodge, and they laughed together as they carved their initials in the damp cement on the front porch.

“I love you, Rowdy. My love for you will never wane. You’re the love of my life. I look forward to spending the rest of my days here in Freedom with you.”

“Yeah, I can see us sitting together on the old front porch swing watching the birds fly by,” he joked.

Cheyenne took him by the hand and they walked inside. Minutes after crossing over the threshold, they lay together on the new carpet, and made tender love.

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“I’ll never forget this day. We’ve carved our initials in the concrete, and we’ve christened the carpet! It’s been a very special day.” She held him in her arms.

“I love you, baby,” Rowdy said sleepily.

Exhausted, they drove back to the bunkhouse feeling satisfied in all ways.

Cheyenne owned an antique shop in Washington State. She asked her manager to set aside anything western that came into the store. Cheyenne made plans to return to Washington to bring the items to the lodge when construction was complete. She accumulated a large sampling of western antiques, and a wide variety of artifacts, oil paintings, Indian pottery, and Navajo rugs. Buying a tall Remington bronze horse and rider with a snake curled up on the ground at the horse’s feet, she knew her mom would love it!

Anxious to pick up the decorative items, Cheyenne planned on stopping in Montana and Wyoming on her way back to Freedom. She hoped to buy even more western items to display at the lodge. Her passion was decorating. She was especially excited about decorating her first western lodge. The sky was the limit. She spent thousands of dollars filling the spacious lodge rooms with fabulous cowboy art, antiques and fine furnishings.

Cheyenne took every opportunity to shop during the year the lodge was under construction, and she’d stockpiled western decorator items. Leaving

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no stone unturned, she searched far and wide, scouring every western and antique store she come across, looking for the perfect items to display in the lodge. Cheyenne made plans to return to Washington to pick up the trailer full of antique items waiting there for her. With the lodge and restaurant complete, she had plenty of time to devote to decorating.

She asked her Seattle friend Jennifer King to help her bring the antiques to Freedom. Jennifer agreed to ride along. When Cheyenne returned to Washington she was packed and ready to go. They wasted no time loading a small trailer with antiques. Within a few days after Cheyenne arrived in Washington, they were on the road driving to Oklahoma.

The women got a late start leaving Skagit County. The heavy Seattle traffic slowed them down. It was late when they pulled into Spokane. By the time they located a hotel off the interstate, and checked in, it was after midnight.

“Thanks for being such a good friend, Jennifer. I realize you don’t approve of my life in Oklahoma. Your support means the world to me,” Cheyenne was glad Jennifer was there with her as she drifted off to sleep.

“What else was I going to do? I’ve tried to talk you into getting out of Freedom for the last four years. I think I know by now that you never listen to me. I just hope that we can have a little fun along the way. I imagine when we get there, it will be a lot of work,” Jennifer replied sleepily.

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“You’re certainly right about that!” Cheyenne sighed and closed her eyes. They had been friends since they were eighteen years old. Neighbors when their kids were young, they went through a lot of good and bad times together. Jennifer’s husband was abusive. It was Cheyenne who loaned her a down payment on the attorney fees, so she could divorce him.

Jennifer was always there for her. She was a true friend; a pretty blonde, with a beautiful shape, long legs and full, rounded, artificial tits. Cheyenne often chided Jennifer about her breasts.

“I can just picture it! When you’re dead, lying in your casket, everything else will be sagging. Those boobs will still be standing up hard and tall.”

“It’s just the way I’d want them to be, standing tall!” They laughed out loud.

There was a strong connection between them. Cheyenne often thought she was closer to Jennifer then she was to her own sister.

They woke up early the next morning. By five-thirty they were back on the road. Driving across Idaho and through the mountains of Montana, they shared stories of some of the good times they had experienced during the lifelong friendship.

“Remember the night you stole the pizza out of the delivery truck at your apartment complex?” Cheyenne chuckled. “Bull shit, Cheyenne! You stole

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the pizza!” They laughed out loud remembering how their kids had gobbled the pizza down when they brought it into the apartment.

They remained close during Cheyenne’s marriage to Ryan. Before Cheyenne moved to Freedom, it wasn’t unusual for them to go out for dinner or drinks once or twice a week.

Cheyenne suddenly reminded her of the night in the dark disco in Puerto Vallarta when Jennifer broke her ankle.

“Remember the dirty hospital? I’ll never forget the doctor driving us home at two o’clock in the morning. You made a move on him!” Cheyenne laughed remembering the terrified look on her friends face when the nurse tried to inject her with a pain killer.

“You were no saint! Remember Howard? Jennifer asked with a sly grin.

Time flew by and before they knew it, they were crossing the Wyoming State line. Cheyenne changed the subject.

“God, how would you like to live here? There’s nothing but sagebrush for as far as the eye could see!” Cheyenne stared out the car window at the barren land.

“No thanks! You know I'm a city girl.” Driving fast, she hoped to get to Laramie before dark; Cheyenne’s driving made Jennifer nervous. She constantly warned her to slow down.

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“You’re going to flip the flipping trailer, I swear! It’s windy! You can’t drive eighty miles an hour all the way to Oklahoma! Slow this truck down!” She was irritated.

Cheyenne laughed. “We’re going to be okay! God is watching over us! Relax, girlfriend! Enjoy the ride!”

Keeping her foot on the gas pedal, and an eye on the side mirror, watching for the law, Cheyenne barreled down the highway heading for Laramie.

They were close friends. They knew how far they could push each other. Seeing Jennifer’s knuckles turn white as she held tight onto the handle above her side window. Cheyenne knew she’d reached her limit. She slowed down.

“Okay, Jenny, I’ll slow down. Try to relax. We’ll be in Laramie soon. I’ll buy you a cold one, and a big ole steak! I’m sorry if my driving bothers you! I’ll take it down to seventy. Okay?” Cheyenne smiled and drove on.

When they arrived in Laramie, they were exhausted. It was dark. A light snow dusted the roadways.

“I hope the snow doesn’t stick around. I hate driving in this shit,” Cheyenne was glad to have arrived at their destination.

“I do too!” Jennifer said with a worried look on her face.

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They checked in to the hotel. Dumping their suitcases on the bed, they were out the door in ten minutes in search of a cold drink and a large steak. When the women walked into the hotel lounge, they saw it was full of cowboys and truck drivers. Besides the barmaid, they were the only women in the bar.

“Shit girlfriend! Do you think we’ve died and gone to heaven?” Cheyenne asked looking at her friend with wide eyes.

“Thank you, God!” Jennifer forgot all about being tired. She was suddenly aroused and ready to party.

The women knew how to flirt and just how far to take it without getting into too much trouble.

“For the record, you’re Thelma, and I'm Louise!” Jennifer said with a mischievous grin.

“We’re damned near as pretty. Take a look in the mirror! Who do you see? You look more like a tired Farrah Fawcett than Thelma or Louise!”

They decided for the moment to be Thelma and Louise. Sauntering up to the bar, they sat down, making friendly conversation with the men gathered round. A tall, thin, lonesome-looking cowboy took a liking to Jennifer.

“Howdy ladies, can I buy you a drink?” he asked with a grin.

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Jennifer thought he had a nice smile.

“Sure enough cowboy! I’ll take a Silver Patron Margarita, frozen, no salt.” Jennifer shuddered anticipating the taste of the tequila.

Seeing anger in the stranger’s eyes, Cheyenne pinched her friend in the ribs. “Watch him! He looks dangerous!”

“Don’t worry about me, Louise, I can handle the cowboy!” Jennifer was looking forward to enjoying the Margarita.

The balding truck driver sitting on the bar stool next to Cheyenne tried to engage her in conversation. “What kind of load are you carrying, pretty girl?” he asked.

“To tell you the truth cowboy, I’m carrying my horse,” she said with a phony southern drawl.

Jennifer overhead Cheyenne’s bull shit story. She laughed out loud. “Trust my friend Louise, she’s telling the truth. We really do have a horse in the trailer.”

Someone put a quarter into the jukebox. The George Strait song: Today my World Slipped Away began to play. The cowboy asked Jennifer to dance.

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“Yes.” She looked him over from head to toe. Mumbling to herself, Jennifer stumbled off the stool. “Tequila makes me want to dance. This reminds me of many trips I’ve taken with Cheyenne to old Mexico.”

Having quickly downed three Margaritas and a shot of gold, Jennifer was ready to dance. She’d grown up in Georgia. Jennifer loved the south. She had southern moves and a very unique Louisiana style of dancing. The tall country cowboy tried his best to teach his drunken partner the western swing. He swung her around the small dance floor. Jennifer wasn’t going for it, determined to teach the reluctant cowboy how to dance it her way. He was obviously used to being in control. He soon became angry with the show off he was dancing with.

Cheyenne laughed seeing Jennifer break loose and gyrate across the dance floor. Shaking her booty, she moved across the floor in all directions. A handful of men standing near the bar appreciated her shimmy. They licked their lips copying the way the sexy blonde licked hers. The men roared seeing Jennifer take both hands and push her long blonde hair on top of her head. She danced like a wild gypsy.

Cheyenne thought she’d better get Jennifer out of there before all hell broke loose. The bald truck driver excitedly watched Jennifer dance. He tried to put his hand on Cheyenne’s knee. She’d had enough.

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“If you touch my knee one more time I will knock you off the damned stool!”

“What’s a pretty little gal like you doing with a mouth like that?” The man said with a frown.

She thought. Maybe it comes from the life I live in Freedom. Cheyenne rarely used profanity. When she did, she didn’t hold back.

Giggling like a school girl when the song was over Jennifer returned to the bar. Her long blonde hair was wet and matted. It was obviously time to go. “Drink up, my dear, we’re going to bed!” Cheyenne pushed a half full glass of Margarita toward her.

Ushering her drunken friend out of the bar, Cheyenne saw through the smoke glazed window the snow continued to fall. She thought. Thank God, I’m pulling a heavy load! It may be treacherous by morning!

She had a long way to drive the next day. She didn’t want to be impaired with a hangover. One night in Laramie was enough. She had no plans to return. Cheyenne was ready to get back to Freedom.

The women returned to their hotel room and Cheyenne insisted Jennifer take the aspirin and sleeping pill she handed her.

“I don’t take that shit!” Jennifer protested in a drunken slur.

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“Trust me! They won’t kill you! Take the Excedrin PM! It’s for your own good! You’ll thank me in the morning,” Cheyenne said doggedly

She wanted her friend to sleep well so she’d help her drive. The plan was to go all the way to Freedom the next day. Jennifer woke up early, complaining she felt terrible. She had a terrific headache.

“What time did we get home? Where’s the coffee?” she asked sleepily rubbing her temple.

“Dang it, Jennifer, I knew you were going to feel bad today. Let’s get out of here! I’m ready to hit the road. We’ll stop at a truck stop down the road somewhere for coffee.” Cheyenne was ready to roll.

They dressed in jogging suits and warm jackets. Stepping out of the hotel room door they sunk to their knees in a foot of fresh-fallen snow. They ran hopping through the snow like rabbits toward the truck. Cheyenne insisted Jennifer help clear the snow from the windows.

“It’s freezing out here. Get me out of this Godforsaken place,” Jennifer angrily scraped the freezing snow from the back window.

“Man, if you hate it here, you’re really going to hate Freedom,” Cheyenne laughed.

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Satisfied she could see clearly, they got in and drove away. Thankful for the four-wheel drive, she made her way through a sea of semi-trucks parked every which way in the hotel parking lot.

Turning right out of the parking lot onto I-25 south, they saw Laramie disappear behind them. Driving south, within an hour, they crossed the Colorado state line. The sun came out and shone bright; the snow began to melt. The roadway was clear, but wet.

Cheyenne enjoyed the beautiful mountain views, unconsciously inched her speed up to eighty. Jennifer paid no attention to how fast they were going. She sat curled up in her seat, smelling like tequila and snoring like a logger. They were south of Denver, when Jennifer woke up looking tired and hung over.

“Find me a truck stop! I’ve really got to pee!” She wiped wet slobber from the corner of her mouth.

“Are you ready to drive? I’m tired! You promised you’d drive today! It’s your turn!” Cheyenne was glad to see the truck stop at the next exit. She was tired. She couldn’t drive another mile.

“Thanks for letting me crash! I needed it! I don’t know why I was so tired,” Jennifer rubbed at her eyes and lifted her arms high in the air for a stretch.

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“Right, Jennifer, I can’t understand it myself!”

Taking the off ramp, she pulled into the truck stop. Using a credit card, she began to pump gas into the tank. Jennifer opened the car door and ran for the ladies’ room holding her hand over her mouth. Cheyenne didn’t ask how she felt when she returned wiping at her chin. Shaking her head, Cheyenne felt no pity. It was Jennifer’s own fault she’d drank too much the night before.

“It’s your turn to drive, sweetheart!” Cheyenne tightened the gas cap.

Reluctantly opening the driver’s door, Jennifer got in. Shoving the key into the ignition, she started the car.

“You look like shit! I hope we’ll be there soon. We could both use a good night’s sleep,” Jennifer saw how tired Cheyenne was as she climbed inside. She reached for a piece of jerky. Returning to the interstate, Cheyenne reclined the seat, closed her eyes, and drifted off to sleep.

Driving from Denver to Guymon, Jennifer was tired when she crossed the Oklahoma line.

“That’s it. I’m done. No more driving for me. It's time for you to take over.” She heard Cheyenne snore lightly.

Pulling into an empty parking lot she accidently ran over a curb.

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“What the hell,” Cheyenne screamed waking from a deep sleep.

“We’re in Oklahoma! It's your turn to drive!” Jennifer got out of the car. She crossed the street and went inside a small market.

Cheyenne felt rested. She was ready to drive. They were only a couple of hours from Freedom. Glancing at the clock on the dash, she saw it was nearly three o’clock. She’d planned on being home before dark. She saw Jennifer return carrying a six pack of Miller Light beer, and a bag of trail mix.

“Is that lunch?” Cheyenne asked with a grin.

“I don’t want to hear it! I’m starving. I’m tired, and I’m really thirsty!” Jennifer felt the effects of the alcohol she’d drank the night before.

The drive from Guymon to Freedom went by fast. Jennifer was wide awake, drinking beer and eating Beef Jerky. Seeing her open another beer, Cheyenne warned Jennifer to keep her eyes open for the law.

“I don’t want to get a damned ticket for driving with an open container in the car. It isn’t legal for you drink beer while I'm driving!” Cheyenne was happy to see her friend relax and enjoy the ride.

She appreciated the company. Jennifer kept her entertained, telling funny stories as they made their way across the boring panhandle. Cheyenne

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especially enjoyed the tales about Jennifer’s days serving in the Air Force Reserve.

Turning right on Highway 50, they drove the speed limit through Freedom. They saw a handful of pickup trucks parked in front of the Freedom Saloon.

“Should we stop for a cold beer with the locals?” Cheyenne asked.

“No thank you. I’ve heard enough stories about the place. I’m not going near there. Take me home. I’m ready for bed,” Jennifer was dead serious.

In minutes they were driving down the dirt road leading to the ranch. The sound of Cheyenne’s cell phone ringing startled them both. “Hello.” She didn’t recognizing the caller’s number.

“Cheyenne! Where are you?” Tim sounded upset.

“We just got here. I’m almost to the bunkhouse. What’s up?” Cheyenne glanced at her reflection in the rear view mirror. She straightened her hair with one hand while holding the cell phone in the other.

“Have you heard what happened to Rowdy?” he asked.

“What are you saying? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Is there something wrong?” she asked suddenly concerned.

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“He’s in the Woodward Hospital paralyzed from the neck down. His horse fell on him. I don’t know anything more,” Tim heard the fear in her voice.

“Tell me again what happened! What do you mean he’s paralyzed? Will he be okay?” she asked struggling to maintain control.”

“What’s the problem?” Jennifer asked seeing her friend suddenly become emotional. Begging Tim for answers, Cheyenne ignored her friend’s question.

“He was helping gather cattle down on the Baker Ranch this afternoon. His horse fell on him. He’s paralyzed! That’s all I know!” Tim was unsure of all the details.

She couldn't believe what he was saying.

“Where is he? When did it happen? How did it happen? We’ve got to get to Woodward right away! Rowdy’s hurt bad!” Cheyenne was in shock. Pulling the car up in front of the bunkhouse, she jumped out frantically trying to unhook the trailer.

“I’m so sorry! What can I do to help? I have to pee. Where shall I go?” Jennifer asked.

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Pointing toward the dark bunkhouse, Cheyenne motioned for Jennifer to go inside. Her frightened friend returned a few seconds later. They climbed back into the car. Cheyenne began to back out the muddy driveway.

“I’m not sleeping there!” Jennifer said with tears in her eyes.

“What are you talking about, Jennifer?” Cheyenne asked.

“I'm not sleeping in the filthy place!” She repeated herself slowly, and deliberately.

“Everything will be okay! We’ll figure it out! Right now, I’ve got to get to Rowdy!” Cheyenne was hysterical.

Speeding down the highway they approached the town of Mooreland, she slowed down and stopped to watch a very long freight train cross the tracks in front of them. The women sat in silence seeing the railroad cars whisk by. It was the longest damn train she’d ever seen.

“Heavenly Father, please let Rowdy be okay! Damn it! I need him in my life! Take care of him, Jesus! Amen!” She prayed and cussed in the same sentence.

Jennifer was lost in her own world. Although trying to comfort her friend, her thoughts returned to the filthy bunkhouse.

“I'm not sleeping there!” she protested one more time.

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The rumbling train passed, the red lights stopped blinking, and the bells stopped ringing. The barrier keeping Cheyenne from crossing the tracks lifted. They were finally free to continue on their way. Cheyenne realized she was speeding. She wanted to get to the hospital. Rowdy was on her mind. She thought. Life without him wouldn’t be worth living!

Reaching the emergency room parking lot, Cheyenne sprang from the car. Scrambling to keep up with her, Jennifer ran with her into the hospital. Once inside she saw Rowdy’s sisters, Wilbur, and Shane waiting. Moving grimly toward Shane, she hugged him close.

“Shane, I love your dad so much. How is he doing? Do you know? Please tell me!” Cheyenne shuddered fearing things were serious. How could she live without Rowdy? She needed him more than he realized.

“His pelvis is broken. He has serious unknown internal injuries. I don’t know any more.” Shane was pale and visibly upset.

“He’s awake and alert. He’s asking for Shane and Cheyenne.” A young nurse walked toward them. “Who are you? He’s asking for Shane and Cheyenne. Only family can go in!”

“I’m his son! This is his wife!” Shane stuttered. His voice shook, he held on tight to Cheyenne’s hand. They followed the nurse into the sterile hospital room. Cheyenne was frightened seeing the pain in Rowdy’s eyes.

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The doctor instructed him to wiggle his toes. She saw he was trying, but his toes weren’t moving.

“How are you doing, Dad? You took quite a spill. Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Shane asked nervously.

“I think I’ll be fine son. Thank God for Duke!” Rowdy grimaced with each word he spoke.

“We were busy gathering cattle. The only way we found Dad is we saw Duke standing still without a rider. One of the guys rode toward his horse. As he got closer he heard him call out. Sure enough, there he was lying in the tall prairie grass. He was hurt bad.” Shane eyes filled with tears as he told the story.

“That’s right. Thank God for Duke,” Rowdy said again.

Cheyenne watched with wide eyes as the doctor and nurses focused on caring for the love of her life. Rowdy saw the tears in her eyes, and the fear on Shane’s face. It pained him that he couldn’t do anything to make them feel better. Unfortunately, at the time, Rowdy was the one who needed attention. He was concerned about his injuries. He couldn’t move his legs. He wasn’t able to wiggle his toes. In his mind, Rowdy feared he may even die. Despite the pain, he managed a faint smile.

“I love you Cheyenne!”

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“I love you more!” Cheyenne longed to hold him in her arms. She hated seeing him in such pain.

“We’ll run tests on him most of the night. There’s nothing you can do for him, but pray!” The doctor appeared concerned as a nurse shooed them away.

Returning to the waiting room, she saw Rowdy’s sisters were crazy wanting to know about their younger brother. Pestering the admitting nurse with questions, they were curious to know all the details.

“He will be okay. The doctor says there’s nothing more we can do for him, but pray. They’ll keep a close watch on him tonight. They’ll call if there are any changes,” Cheyenne was devastated. Putting on a happy face, she tried to console his family.

They reassured each other that Rowdy was a tough guy, he’d pull through it. Jennifer stood back. She looked pale and frightened in the room full of strangers. She’d never met Rowdy, let alone his family. She felt very much out of place.

Rowdy’s sisters insisted Cheyenne return to the ranch for the night. Knowing she’d just arrived, and that she’d been driving for days, they wanted her to get some rest. After all it would be up to her to take care of their brother.

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“That’s a good idea! Let’s go! I’ll drive you home!” Jennifer was anxious to leave. They walked outside together, knowing there was nothing more they could do, but ask God for a miracle. Leading Cheyenne to the truck, Jennifer opened the door and helped her inside. Fastening the seat belt snuggly around her friend, she walked around the car and got in. As they drove away from the hospital, Cheyenne broke down. She couldn’t stop crying. Jennifer didn’t know what to do about it.

“What would I do without you?” Cheyenne asked. Blowing her nose loud, she wiped at her eyes.

Cheyenne apologized for the filthy condition of the bunkhouse. And Jennifer resigned to the fact she’d be sleeping there.

“If it doesn’t bother you, it doesn’t bother me! I survived the Gulf War! I can survive a night in the bunkhouse!”

Cheyenne was too tired to give her friend encouragement. Arriving at the dark, dreary bunkhouse, they got out of the car. Leaning on each other for support, they walked inside feeling physically and emotionally drained. Cheyenne showed Jennifer where to find clean sheets and pointed toward an unmade, single bed in the corner of Shane’s messy bedroom.

Walking alone into Rowdy’s familiar bedroom, Cheyenne collapsed onto the old feather bed. Despite the bleak, dirty surroundings, the women were

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asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow. Shane and Wilbur stayed in Woodward to be close to Rowdy. The women were alone at the ranch.

Jennifer woke early the next morning to the strange sound of bawling cattle. She hurried into Cheyenne’s bedroom to wake her.

“It’s too noisy around here for me to sleep. What is the God awful noise coming from the barn? I’ll get the bags from the car. Where can we get breakfast? I’m starving. Get up Cheyenne, I’m ready to get out of this filthy place,” Jennifer’s eyes were wide with obvious fear.

“God bless you, Jennifer! You’re such a trouper!” Cheyenne rubbed her eyes. Slowly getting out of bed, she shivered when her feet touched the cold concrete floor. Calling the hospital, she reached the nurses’ station.

“I’m inquiring about Rowdy Harrison. How’s he feeling this morning? Have there been any changes in his condition?” Cheyenne listened closely for an answer.

“He had a miserable night. The feelings returned to his arms and legs. He’s lucky to have someone like you to care for him. He’ll need a lot of love to pull him through.” The nurse made it sound like he would be okay. Cheyenne thanked her for the information, and hung up the phone.

Looking forward to a hot shower, Jennifer cringed when she saw the green mold on the bathroom walls. Cheyenne convinced her it wouldn’t eat

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her alive. Jennifer took the fastest shower of her life. An hour later they left for the hospital. Feeling hungry, as they hadn’t eaten much the day before, they stopped at a cafe in Mooreland for breakfast.

“I’m sorry I didn’t fix dinner last night. There wasn’t anything in the cupboard. Rowdy’s fridge is bare.” Cheyenne chatted as she watched Jennifer scarf down the biscuits and gravy she’d ordered.

“No problem! I could stand to lose a few pounds. I didn’t feel like eating last night anyway. I had such a nervous stomach.”

“You won’t lose weight if you stay around here. Those biscuits will put the pounds on you,” Cheyenne laughed at her skinny friend’s concern about weight.

Arriving at the hospital at ten o’clock that morning, Jennifer was glad to see Cheyenne was calm.

“He’ll be okay, Rowdy’s a tough old coot.” They walked down the white hospital corridor toward his room. When they walked inside, they say Rowdy was awake and alert.

“Thanks for coming. I’m sure I don’t look very pretty. I could use a shave. You must be Jennifer. Cheyenne has told me a lot about you. How was your trip? Did you girls manage to get in any trouble on the way down

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from Washington?” Rowdy asked, happy to see them. Looking Jennifer over from head to toe, he openly admired her beauty.

The way he looked her up and down, made her feel uncomfortable. She suddenly felt like a piece of meat. She didn’t think the cowboy was particularly good-looking. Ryan resembled George Clooney. Rowdy was wrinkled and old. There was no comparison. Ryan was a better looking man, hands down. She worried that Cheyenne had lowered her standards. She thought. Well maybe he looks a little like Steve McQueen. What in the hell does Cheyenne see in this macho cowboy?

“The doctors want to keep me here a few more days,” Rowdy said not taking his eyes off Cheyenne’s pretty friend.

“That’s a good thing. I’m taking Jennifer to Oklahoma City. She needs to catch a flight to Seattle tomorrow. I’ll be back on Friday in time to take you home!” Seeing Rowdy flirt with her friend made Cheyenne smile.

They left the hospital a few minutes later. On the drive back to the ranch Jennifer suggested they leave for Oklahoma City. She didn’t want to spend another night in the rat-infested bunkhouse.

Cheyenne agreed. When they arrived at the bunkhouse Jennifer promptly packed her bag. Throwing a few things into a small suitcase, Cheyenne was ready. They looked forward to a good night’s sleep as they drove south on Interstate 40 toward Oklahoma City.

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Checking in at The Biltmore on Meridian, they hurried to unpack. Starving, they drove to The Ranch Steakhouse, Cheyenne’s favorite restaurant. She enjoyed sharing the comfortable western ambiance with her best friend. They ordered a salad, beef filets medium rare, and a bottle of Glen Ellen Merlot. The food was delicious, and the wine went down easy.

“How can you live in the filthy place? It’s infested with rats! They kept me awake last night. I heard them in the walls! I swear I could feel them walking on top of my covers!” Looking like she’d seen a ghost, Jennifer gulped down her wine.

“I’m sorry you had such a bad night. I don’t think you heard rats. Mice maybe! They’re my pets. The tiny little things don’t eat much. You’re exaggerating!” Cheyenne laughed out loud. “The next time you visit, we’ll stay at the lodge. It will be ready soon. You’ll absolutely love it there! I promise!”

They enjoyed cheesecake for desert and finished the wine. Taking the guest check from the table, Cheyenne insisted, “It’s my treat! I truly appreciate your riding down from Washington with me. You’re the best friend in the world. I’m sorry it’s hasn’t been much fun. Next time I’ll show you a good time.”

Leaving the restaurant around ten o’clock, the women returned to the hotel. They looked forward to a good night’s sleep. Jennifer’s flight left

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early the next morning. When Cheyenne dropped her off at the airport, she was sad to see her go.

On the drive back to Freedom, she stopped at the hospital in Woodward to check on Rowdy. He was heavily medicated, and drifted in and out of sleep. He seemed to appreciate her being there. She stayed by his side until late that afternoon.

Kissing him on the forehead, she said, “Get some rest. I’ll come back the first thing in the morning!”

“The doctor said I can go home on Friday. Will you be my nurse?” he asked sleepily.

“I’m not a nurse, but I’ll give it my best shot.” Cheyenne was tired. She backed out of the hospital room anxious to get home to rest.

Returning to the bunkhouse, she didn’t want to spend the night alone. Walking upstairs to the farmhouse, she saw Shane and Wilbur had just finished dinner. They were anxious to hear the news about Rowdy. She said not to worry he’d be home on Friday. Returning to the bunkhouse although exhausted, she wasn’t ready for bed. Staying up late, she cleaned and prepared a makeshift hospital bed for Rowdy on the couch. The old feather bed wouldn’t support a broken pelvis. After going to bed around two in the morning, she was still tired when the familiar sound of barking dogs and

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hungry, bawling cattle woke her early the next day. She called the hospital at nine and was surprised to learn he was being released.

“The doctor said I can come home. Come get me baby.” Rowdy was anxious to leave the noisy hospital. “I’ll heal just as well at home. I can’t stand it here. How soon will you be here?”

“I’ll be on my way as soon as I shower.” She was anxious to bring him home. The bunkhouse wasn’t the same without him.

When she arrived at the hospital, she saw Rowdy sitting patiently in a wheelchair by the front door. Seeing him dressed in a hospital gown made her realize the seriousness of it all.

“You’re looking good! What’s with the nightie?” She asked with a grin.

“They cut my favorite Wranglers off me. I should have asked you to bring a robe. This is all I have to wear!” Rowdy smiled a painful grin.

“That’s should be the least of your worries, we’ll buy you a new pair of jeans!” She was happy to see he still had a sense of humor.

The nurse pushed the wheelchair outside toward the Avalanche. Cheyenne imagined the pain medication must be doing its job, when Rowdy effortlessly pulled himself up into the truck.

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Shane was waiting on the front porch when they arrived at the bunkhouse. He helped his dad limp inside and onto the bed she’d made for him on the couch. Rowdy was happy to be home. For the next few days he was unable to get out of bed.

Pampering him like a baby, Cheyenne waited on Rowdy hand and foot. He seemed thankful to have such a caring nurse. But it didn’t take the city girl long to tire of the new job. She resented taking care of him night and day. Cheyenne was worn out.

On the eighth day, she’d finally had enough. When Rowdy asked her for a glass of water, she screamed. “Get it yourself! I'm sorry I’m such a bitch, but I'm not a nurse! You need to get better before it kills me, or I kill you!”

Rowdy’s feelings were hurt. Reaching for his walker, he slowly rolled over, and painstakingly stood up.

“See baby! I’m no cripple! I can get around!” He gave her a crooked smile, adamant from that day forward he would take care of himself.

Later that evening while lying alone on the feather bed, in the dark, damp bedroom, Cheyenne heard a scratching sound close by. She lay there without moving hoping the noise would go away. Suddenly feeling the weight of a very large rat land on her head, she feared she’d have a heart attack. Screaming at the top of her lungs, she grabbed the rat and tore it out of her hair. She threw it violently across the room.

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“Get in here Rowdy! A huge rat just jumped on me! Help me!” she wailed.

“Calm down, Cheyenne, you’ll be alright! Whatever you tossed against the door must be dead!” He laughed out loud.

“Thanks a lot cowboy! I thought you were my hero. I certainly have my doubts now.” Taking no comfort from Rowdy’s assumption she’d killed the rat, she began to pray,

“Heavenly Father, make sure the rat is dead. Protect and watch over me as I try to sleep! Amen!”

Hearing her prayer, Rowdy laughed out loud. Holding his stomach to ease the pain, he imagined she would be leaving Freedom again real soon.

Cheyenne woke the next morning feeling ashamed she’d been so cruel; but she was happy to see Rowdy finally begin to take care of himself.

“I apologize for being such a terrible nurse. I’ve had so much on my mind lately. There is still so much work to do at the lodge. I know I’ve been a bitch.” She had tears in her eyes.

“I understand completely. I’m sorry you’ve had to put up with me. I feel much better now. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I know it hasn’t been easy. I’ll be back to my old self sooner than you think.” Rowdy pulled her down beside him on the bed.

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She was happy he felt better. Anxious to resume decorating duties at the lodge, she left him alone over the next few days. She knew he could fend for himself.

Walking unexpectedly into the bunkhouse one afternoon, she saw Rowdy inject himself with the steroids he used to fortify cattle feed.

“This shit will make me strong again!” He said embarrassed she’d caught him doing such a crazy thing.

“You’re nuts!” She walked into the bedroom throwing her hands into the air.

Though she admired his determination to get well, she thought. Using cattle steroids is taking it a little too far.

Spending her days at the lodge, she was anxious to finish decorating the apartment. She was anxious to have a clean place to call home. When she finished, the new apartment looked like a picture out of a western design magazine.

Three weeks after the accident, Rowdy’s pelvis was healed. Cheyenne asked him to ride along on a buying trip to Santa Fe, New Mexico. Anxious to get away, he agreed to go along. Leaving that same day, they spent a night in Amarillo, and drove on to Santa Fe the following morning. Visiting the Santa Fe Swap Meet, they picked out large, round, heavy mesquite tables,

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with wagon wheel bases. They found heavy wooden bar stools with soft leather seats, and long-horned steer carvings on the backs. Cheyenne wasn’t satisfied until she’d also purchased lamps, pottery, Indian blankets and southwestern style rugs.

After arranging to have everything shipped, they returned exhausted to the Santa Fe Hilton Hotel. Happy to be away from Freedom, they made the most of the short, working vacation. They enjoyed massages, and relaxed in the resort hot tub.

Dinning in the hotel dining was an elaborate affair. They were seated before a tall rock fireplace and enjoyed the mountain views from the expansive tall windows. Service was great; the food outstanding. Cheyenne insisted it be a celebration of their love.

She toasted. “Here’s to the completion of a year of hard work! It’s amazing what you can accomplish when you’re in love.” Sitting back in the plush dining chair, she enjoyed her surroundings. She loved the beautiful southwestern ambiance. The Hilton Hotel in Santa Fe was a wonderful place. She made a mental note to visit again someday soon.

“When I'm finished decorating the lodge, it will be every bit as nice as this. I love the southwestern Santa Fe style.” Looking around the expansive dining room, she took it all in.

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“I’m sure it will. Here’s to the best damned decorator I’ve ever known!” Rowdy tipped his Martini glass toward her and turned to stare out the tall restaurant window admiring a spectacular sunset.

Driving for hours the next day, they returned to Freedom. The grand opening was only a week away and Cheyenne was anxious to put the finishing touches on her project.

Working non-stop for the next several days, she wouldn’t relax until everything was in place. She took pride in her decorating efforts, and it showed.

When the new furnishings arrived from New Mexico a few days later, she expertly showed the volunteer cowboys where to place each piece. A colorful antique Navajo rug lay at the entrance, and an old-fashioned wooden buggy sat under cover of the front porch. Western-style lamps and light fixtures lit up the rooms. A large Remington bronze statue of horse and rider sat in the corner of the main dining room next to the expansive river rock fireplace.

Hanging the head and horns of the pesky old cow, Rowdy named Old Blue, in the front dining room, she remembered the funny stories he'd shared about the animal. “Blue was forever escaping from the pasture. She tore down more damned fences than I care to remember. It was no problem for me to butcher her and tan her hide.” Rowdy was pleased to see the head and

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horns hang on the wall. The taxidermist did a fine job. Rowdy had a pair of chaps made for Cheyenne from the old grey steer’s hide.

A large black-and-white Texas longhorn, whose gigantic horns wrapped way down low on one side and stood up high on the other; was displayed on the river rock fireplace.

She carried the river rock theme from the floor-to-ceiling fireplace to the counter at the entrance. Installing copper bar tops in the main lounge, she created a spectacular western ambiance for customers to enjoy. Antiques, old cans and bottles and huge paintings filled the restaurant. A life-sized Iroquois Indian Brave, with tomahawk in hand, stood proudly behind the bar. She was proud of how well everything turned out. Cheyenne succeeded in designing an oasis in the middle of the Oklahoma prairie. It was a beautiful sight to behold.

There was something special about the land where the lodge stood; it was beautiful even in the middle of winter. The views from the restaurant windows were of miles and miles of golden prairie grass. Clusters of cedar trees and dark shadows hinted at hidden canyons to the north. Cheyenne was never fond of Oklahoma winters. As the winter months drug on, she grew anxious for the first sign of spring. She envisioned the beautiful wild flowers, amazing views, and the green fields, springtime always brought to the lonely prairie.

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The extravagant lodge grand opening party was a huge success. The entire town of Freedom was invited to enjoy a free Texas-style barbeque and live country western music. Many showed up for the meal. Others came to show their support, and to admire the beautiful lodge and restaurant she had created.

Cheyenne relaxed and enjoyed herself at the party believing the hard part was over. She was unaware at the time of the effort it would take on her part to make the business a success.

The construction period had been difficult, involving long hours and hard physical work. Despite it all, when it was finished, she felt it had all been worth it. The end result was a fine-looking western log facility she compared to the best in the world. The log exterior and old fashion design provided a feeling of down-home peace and serenity. Visitors compared Cedar Creek Ranch to fine places they had seen before in the mountains of Colorado and Montana.

The nature surrounding the lodge nurtured and de-stressed Cheyenne and her guests. The thirty-four-hundred-acre ranch provided visitors a fantastic place to escape, and explore. Cheyenne offered trail rides and outdoor country cookouts to the lodge guests. She compared her sprawling ranch to a miniature Grand Canyon. By damming up the creeks running freely through her land, she created a ten-acre manmade lake. Summer guests enjoyed fishing, and an occasional dip in its crystal-clear blue waters.

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Even in the dead of winter, a walk through the awesome ranch land revealed mule and white tail deer, and birds. Other wildlife grazed alongside the ranch horses, bucking bulls, and long-horned cattle. She found the scenic views amazing. The old homesteads, canyons, creeks, and ponds she came across as she drove over the expansive land made her feel breathless. Cheyenne took enormous pride in the spectacular surroundings she and the good Lord created.

No one could imagine the hard work, time and money it took for her to complete the project. Unfortunately, not everyone treated the efforts with respect. The envious destroyed some of the beauty she'd worked so hard to create. She hadn’t considered her guests would often include brash, calloused, indifferent, and demanding, drunken cowboys. Many of the ruthless cowboys in the area would sometimes enjoy a fine steak dinner and a bucket of beers, and then exit out the back door without paying the bill.

Cheyenne soon realized that along with the glory, came an occasional, overwhelming feeling of defeat. Life in Freedom was always full of surprises.

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CHAPTER TWELVE

Cheyenne respected many of the customers, especially an old man named Oliver Ward. The aging farmer had lived in Freedom his entire life. He owned a large farm just south of the lodge.

Oliver was a friendly sort who’d never met a stranger. Not only did he know everyone in Freedom, his friends were scattered all over the state of Oklahoma, and beyond. Oliver Ward and Wilbur Harrison were life-long neighbors, and good friends. Oliver and Maggie, his female companion, came into the cafe for lunch and dinner several times a week. He was a story teller. For a man in his late eighties Oliver had an excellent memory. He told some pretty tall tales about the Freedom people and the history of the small town.

Cheyenne waved when she saw Maggie wheel Oliver into the café for lunch one day. He was excited, anxious to tell his latest story. Once seated at their favorite dining table in front of the fireplace, Oliver called Cheyenne over.

“Good afternoon handsome how’s my favorite guy?” Cheyenne smiled as she gave them menus.

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“We’re exceptionally good, How’s my girlfriend today? If you have a minute, I’ve got a great story to tell you.”

“I’ve always got time for you Oliver.” Cheyenne pulled out a chair next to him and sat down. She held his hand, appearing anxious for him to begin.

“Every time I eat here, I help myself to a handful of your candy mints. I must have at least a pound stashed in the truck console. I’m a diabetic you know. Maggie and I were driving around the farm fields late yesterday checking on the oil wells. We got stuck in the mud. I couldn’t get the old Lincoln to go anywhere. We spent the night in the car. When Jed couldn’t find us at the farm this morning he drove around and found us about five miles from the house. He pulled us out of the mud with his truck a couple of hours ago. I swear the candy mints saved my life! I had a low blood sugar attack around midnight. I must have eaten a dozen of those peppermint candies. They got my blood sugar under control! I just wanted to tell you thank you for saving my life!”

“Are you kidding? I’m certainly happy my candy helped you make it through! What a horrible ordeal! Be sure and take a handful when you leave today! I’ll bet you were glad to see Jed pull up this morning.”

“Yes and no.” He said with a wide grin.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

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“Well I had Maggie to keep me warm. We pretended we were camping and forgot to bring dinner.” He laughed and then looked over her shoulder squinting to read the daily lunch specials written on the blackboard.

“I’ll bet you’re starving. It’s a good thing I had the cook fix your favorite liver and onions today. We’ve got plenty. How’s that sound?” Cheyenne stood up to take their order.

“We’ll have two specials!” Oliver gave her the menus. “I’d like a cold beer to wash it down. Maggie will have some iced tea. That’s all she could talk about during the night. She wasn’t hungry, just thirsty. She prayed for a tall glass of iced tea.” Maggie nodded her head in agreement. Cheyenne motioned for a waitress to bring over a tall pitcher of tea.

When they had finished lunch and were ready to leave, Cheyenne met them at the counter with their ticket. Oliver wrote out a counter check for the meal, and added five dollars for a tip. After ringing up the sale, Cheyenne moved around the counter to help Maggie wheel him outside. Tugging at her pant leg, he held his arms out for a hug. When she bent over to oblige, the old man gave her a friendly pat on the butt.

“Thanks again, girlfriend.”

“You can help yourself to my candy anytime boyfriend!”

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Cheyenne walked with them to the car and helped Oliver inside. She gave Maggie a hand lifting the wheel chair into the trunk. As they drove away she waved good-bye, feeling good inside knowing Oliver was truly a good friend. He was one of her biggest supporters. Seeing him and Maggie come into the restaurant always put a smile on her face. She was glad the peppermint candy had come in handy.

Oliver loved talking to people. He enjoyed visiting with everyone when he came into the restaurant. He and Wilbur met there a couple of times a week for lunch. They would order a cold beer and discuss what was going on in the world; and in their own lives. Freedom was a better place because of men like Oliver Ward and Wilbur Harrison. The kind, old, gentlemen touched her life in many ways. She would never forget them.

Cheyenne had posted a sign in the restaurant driveway saying Oliver Parking Only! The day of his funeral she took the sign down, and cried.

Funerals were a large part of life in Freedom. She attended several. Some of the deceased she knew well, and others she barely knew. The entire town would shut down so everyone could attend the funeral service. After seeing the last shovel of dirt thrown onto the coffin, the mourners would pile into vehicles and drive six miles back into town. They would always meet at the Legion Hall to console the grieving family, and enjoy a hot meal.

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Most local families owned a plot at the local cemetery. Wilbur pre- bought a large one with space for himself, his wife, his three daughters, and his son Rowdy.

One day while visiting the Harrison family plot, Cheyenne spoke out. “That’s really strange. What happens to the husbands or wives when they die? Are they cremated and thrown into the wind? What about me? If I die here I want to be buried beside you!” Cheyenne never understood why Wilbur wanted to have control over his family, even after death.

The situation made her wonder what life was really like growing up in Wilbur’s family. She thought. What domination the old man must have had over his grown daughters. Why would he want them with him in the grave? Are there family secrets I’m not aware of?

As time went by, when questions would pop in and out of her mind, if she wanted to know what went on in Freedom, she’d ask Rowdy. He’d tell her only what he wanted her to hear, and keep the rest to himself. Living in that small, country cow town was different than anywhere else she’d ever lived. Feeling like an outsider, she thought the community was rather clannish.

Leaving the lodge early one morning in late May, Cheyenne drove into Freedom alone. Business at the lodge had been brisk over the long Memorial

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Day weekend. She was tired, but pleased with the large amount of money they had made.

The weather was good, not a cloud in the sky. The wind had died down, for a change. In general, Cheyenne believed things were going quite well.

Dealing with the banker, Jake Harrison, Rowdy’s eight-five-year-old uncle, could easily change good days into bad. Cheyenne disliked doing business with the grouchy old man. He’d been president of the Freedom bank since the early fifties. A balding, shrewd-looking, short man, with spectacles riding low on his nose, Jake closely resembled an old-time banker in a classic black and white western movie.

Not wanting anything to spoil the perfect day, she briefly considered going through the drive-in window to make the deposit. Enjoying the nice spring weather, she decided instead to park across the street and walk to the bank. She stopped at the Freedom Hardware to say hello to Lonnie.

“How are you this morning?” She peered through the screen door. “I can’t stay long. I’m on my way to the bank. I’ve got to hurry back to the lodge. We had a busy weekend. There are lots of beds to make, and tons of sheets to wash.”

“It’s nice to hear you’re busy. I thought I would come by tonight. I’m hungry for a big steak and a glass of good red wine. We’ve been really slow.

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I guess it’s the long weekend. It’s good to see you Cheyenne. I’ll be out later; we’ll catch up on the local gossip.” Lonnie waved good-bye.

In a good mood, enjoying the beautiful weather, Cheyenne continued her stroll down the wooden sidewalk toward the bank. She was disappointed when she entered and saw the familiar face behind the teller’s window.

“Good morning, Jake. How are you today?” she asked with a smile.

Barely grunting, Jake nodded. Appearing angry, he took the deposit from her. Glaring over the top of wire-rimmed spectacles, he set the cash to one side. Slowly adding up the stack of checks listed on the deposit slip, he added them twice. Seeing him count the cash over several times Cheyenne felt impatient. She tapped her foot on the carpeted floor. When he re-added the checks again, her tolerance ran thin. It took Jake several minutes to complete the deposit transaction.

Wishing she’d gone through the drive-through, she let out a sigh. He finally stopped counting and printed out a receipt. When she reached for it, he pulled it back. He nodded toward his office door, and without a word, Jake walked away, beckoning her to follow.

Cheyenne had a full day of work waiting for her back at the lodge. She’d hoped to get away without hearing one of Jake’s lectures. Yet determined not to let him spoil her day, she followed him into his office situated just off

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the bank lobby. Aware anyone who came through the front door would see her inside, she felt embarrassed and frustrated.

Like it or not, it was Cheyenne’s day to be humiliated. Jake was deaf. He spoke in a loud, unforgiving voice. There were no doors on his office, consequently no privacy. Giving him a go-to-hell look, she plopped down in a chair sitting in front of his desk.

He spoke curtly and quickly. “The lodge account is overdrawn two dollars and seventy-nine cents.” She wanted badly to avoid eye contact as she saw him stare gravely into her eyes through thick glasses.”

Taking a deep breath, she stubbornly stared him down.

“The charges I ran through over the three day weekend total more than two-thousand dollars. That deposit will be hitting the bank by three o’clock today. You’ll see it’s more than enough to cover the three dollar overdraft.” It was all she could do to remain calm. The old banker was determined to ruin her day.

“The lodge account is overdrawn. I need three dollars.” He ignored her explanation, seeming determined to get the best of her.

She thought. What a damned old fool. This guy is nuts! He’ll have his money by three o’clock! What more can I do. I don’t have a dime on me. I’m not driving six miles to bring him three dollars. He can wait for the machine

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charges to come through. Screw you Jake Harrison! She’d had enough of his nonsense.

“There will be another deposit come into your bank at three o’clock. It will be more than enough to cover the three dollars! Give me a break! If you want to speak to me about my business, put a door on your office!” She slammed a closed fist down hard on his desk.

Pulling her hand back, it was all she could do to keep from smashing him in the face. Giving him another go-to-hell look, Cheyenne stood up and backed out of the office. Wild thoughts consumed her mind. She thought. I’ve had it with you old man! Why don’t you retire and let someone else run this place. Don’t waste your idiot lectures on me! I won’t take it! Screw you! Next time I’ll drive all the way to Woodward to do my banking, rather than put up with this crap!

Slamming out of Jake’s office, Cheyenne bolted through the lobby and out the front door. Running for the car, she briefly worried about the impression she’d made. The bank employees were all Jake’s relatives. The handful of customers in the front lobby stared at her with mouths open. Had she taken it too far?

Driving away, she feared she may have overstepped the boundaries. Although feeling a little foolish, she didn’t care what Rowdy’s relatives thought. She was mad as hell! She refused to take anymore. Driving fast, she crossed the Cimarron River, going eighty miles an hour. Within minutes, she’d arrived back at the lodge. Seeing Rowdy walk across the parking lot

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toward his truck, she gunned the Chevy Avalanche. Heading straight toward him, she saw him jump out of the way just in time to avoid being run over. Rolling down the car window, she hung her head out and screamed.

“Whatever you do cowboy! Don’t ever ask me to do business with your crazy uncle again! Next time, you go to the damned bank! I'm not going back! If I have to face the son- of- a-bitch again I may kill him; and then I’ll kill you!” Cheyenne was madder than a hornet.

Rowdy knew better than to ask questions. He got into his truck intending to drive away. He wanted to give her time to calm down He’d never seen her so upset, and he hoped he’d never see that side of her again. She was totally out of her mind.

Hours later, over dinner, Rowdy admitted he too had been humiliated by his uncle many times. He’d do anything to avoid going into the bank in Freedom. He’d grown up listening to Jake’s lectures and he had no love for his Uncle Jake. He threatened to someday put the old man in his place.

Closing the restaurant at nine o’clock that evening, they walked together down the hill toward the lodge. The wine with dinner mellowed her out. Cheyenne forgot all about Jake. In a good mood when they crawled into bed, Rowdy took her into his arms and made the world go away. The next day they laughed about the situation. Over the next several months, the incident with Uncle Jake remained a joke between them.

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When Rowdy saw Jake’s car pull into the restaurant parking lot, he would say, “Here comes your favorite uncle!”

“Where’s the gun!” she’d reply and then do a mental check wondering is my account overdrawn today?

As months and then years went by, Jake eventually treated her with respect. She sometimes wondered if the change in his attitude had anything to do with the day she’d gone ballistic in his office.

The old banker and his wife Polly were regular customers at the restaurant. They loved the Rusty Spur Café and often brought friends and family there for dinner. Anytime there was a function at the restaurant, or an event at the arena, Jake would be there with a smile on his face. In a cynical sort of way, the old banker seemed to develop a sense of pride in the place.

Every Friday night the aging couple would show up at the bar and effortlessly pull themselves up on the tall wooden bar stools. They preferred sitting at the bar rather than at a table; it gave them a good view of what was going on. Always ordering two red beers, they would ask to split a cheeseburger. If Rowdy was tending bar, they made him nervous. He believed old Jake came around just to keep an eye on him.

Having no sympathy, Cheyenne would say, “He’s your uncle! You take care of him!” She’d remind him they were relation, and tease. “You look just

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like him! Sometimes you act like him too. He’s not my favorite uncle. He’s yours!” She would laugh, and pretend to cock a pistol.

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Many local businesses from neighboring towns held company functions at the Rusty Spur restaurant. From the day she first opened, business was brisk. Weekend guests generally were required to make dinner reservations or risk being turned away. Many weekend nights they would turn tables three times over the course of the evening. They often served dinner to more than three hundred and fifty people in one night. Cheyenne couldn't imagine why customers would drive two or three hours just to eat dinner at her restaurant, but they did. Hungry customers came from miles around.

Once the word was out about the great food, friendly staff and beautiful ambiance, the restaurant was busy. The money began to roll in. Cheyenne ran her ass off paying attention to the guests. She kept their drinks full and made sure they were served without delay. Greeting them with a friendly hello at the front door, she was usually at the cash register to collect their money when they checked out. She saw to it the mint candy dish at the front counter was never empty. She insisted the place was always clean and inviting.

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Cheyenne dressed the part. The western outfits and stylish cowboy boots she wore became her trademark. Her feet ached from wearing the fancy cowboy boots. At the end of a long day Rowdy would gently massage the pain away. Cheyenne lovingly gave him backrubs in exchange for the attention he gave to her aching feet. They thrived on the close connection and the intimacy they shared behind closed doors of the apartment.

No stranger to hard work, Cheyenne did whatever it took to take care of business. She pitched in wherever she was needed. She was oftentimes the maid, bookkeeper, waitress, cashier, and always the promoter. Evenings were late and mornings came early. They worked together side by side making beds, washing windows, stocking beer coolers, and mowing the grass. Whatever it took to keep the place open, it got done.

Days were long and the work was strenuous. Together they were dedicated to taking care of the business at hand. Rowdy wore many hats. He was sometimes the bartender, the cook, the dishwasher, and janitor. He carried out the large, heavy trash barrels full of empty beer and liquor bottles each morning. He used his friendly personality to keep the large staff happy and under control. When he wasn’t working at the lodge, he tended to the ranching and farming, caring for his kids and elderly parents, and the large herd of bucking bulls.

It was difficult finding competent people who wanted to work. At one time or another, Cheyenne employed everyone in the area who was willing

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to work. Many locals seemed downright lazy, and content with their lot in life.

During busy times there were at least fifteen employees at the lodge. She liked many of her employees, and despised a few. She prepared an employee handbook, setting out the terms of employment. It worked great when she was there to enforce it. Nevertheless, if she wasn’t there twenty-four/seven the employees always went back to their way of doing things.

Cheyenne was initially impressed with a female employee, Diane Johnson, a local Freedom native, and one of her best waitresses. The employee owned a small sewing shop in town. Cheyenne believed the wages and tips she made at the restaurant helped to keep the doors open.

Diane was a pushy, get-it-done type of woman. The other waitresses could only tolerate her for only so long. Tiring of her bossy ways, they would eventually stand up for themselves, and put her in her place. Despite Diane’s demanding personality, the customers enjoyed her. Many requested to be seated in her section when they came in for dinner. Diane recognized the big spenders. She knew how to give them special care. She would rub their backs while engaging them in conversation, always selfishly expecting a large tip. Diane made good tips.

At the conclusion of a large Christmas party one evening, Cheyenne tallied up the restaurant receipts. She saw one of Diane’s customer’s bills

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totaled over three hundred dollars. As a part of her normal routine, Cheyenne looked over the charge slip, making sure the employee had received her tip. She was pleased to see Diane had received a seventy-dollar tip from the customer. However, her mood suddenly changed. Diane had collected more from the customer than he'd owed. The waitress had gone for the night. In her absence, Cheyenne questioned the remaining waitresses why she overcharged the customer. They confessed, “Diane does it all the time! She charges the customer more than they owe then she takes any amount over what they owe and puts it into her pocket. She showed us how to do it. She claims it isn’t wrong, that she's not stealing from you, she's stealing from the customer!”

Hearing what the other employees had to say made Cheyenne sick to her stomach. She telephoned Diane at home the first thing the next morning, asking for her side of the story. As she expected would happen, the waitress denied any wrongdoing. Cheyenne suggested they meet at the restaurant to discuss the discrepancy. Diane arrived in minutes and they reviewed the charge slip in question. The look on the employee’s face told the whole story. It was obvious, she’d caught a thief.

“You've overcharged a customer. The other employees say you do it all the time. I’m not going to put up with this type of thievery. I have no choice, but to fire you!” Cheyenne said with determination.

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She was cautious in confronting Diane, knowing she had a reputation for being a tough farm girl. However, Cheyenne understood she would need to be firm. It was in her best interest to make an example out of the thief, thereby discouraging other employees from believing they could get away with it.

Realizing she no longer had a job, Diane became furious. “You’d better watch your back, woman. I'm going to beat the shit out of you! It may not happen today or tomorrow, but I guarantee, it will happen! Your sweet city ass is grass!” She angrily threatened with a closed fist.

Startled customers saw the waitress flip a middle finger in Cheyenne’s face. Stomping out of the restaurant, she snorted and carried on like a mad bull. That same afternoon, Cheyenne filed theft charges with the Woodward County Sheriff. Although she was aware they turned the matter over to the prosecuting attorney, the disgruntled employee continued to call the lodge and harass her.

“You’d better drop all charges if you know what’s good for you. I’ll take you out with one shot from yards away. You’re a dead woman!” Diane screamed.

Cheyenne watched her back knowing Diane was crazy enough to follow up on the threats. She slept with one eye open and a loaded revolver next to her bed. Advising the sheriff and prosecutor of the threats, they merely

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suggested she be careful. Cheyenne was determined the crazy actions of a lunatic were not going to get her down.

Such was life in the country. There was never a dull moment at Cedar Creek Ranch.

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Cheyenne was excited the day she hired a cook, Tyler Whitfield a good- looking, young black man. Very few colored people lived in Freedom. Tyler moved there with his wife and children to be near his in-laws. The red-neck attitude prevailing in the area bothered Cheyenne. Although she initially hesitated to hire him because of local prejudices, after checking Tyler’s references, she found previous employers highly recommended him.

The new cook had a great attitude. During the short time he worked there, Cheyenne was convinced she'd made the right decision to hire him. The customers raved about Tyler’s cooking and food presentation.

Unfortunately, Tyler’s position at the Rusty Spur lasted only a few months. Cheyenne was angry and disappointed the evening she discovered the cook packing his car with expensive steaks, a gallon of Crown and a bottle of Yukon Jack. She'd imagined it wasn’t the first time he'd helped himself to her inventory. Feeling sorry and embarrassed for his young family, Cheyenne decided not to file theft charges against him.

"Get your ass out of here. I don’t want to see your face around the Rusty Spur again!” Seeing Tyler drive away, she thought. Will this shit ever end?

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She hired a replacement cook from Buffalo, a few days later, and hoped she’d found the right man for the job. George Harris began work as the weekend cook, and Rowdy filled in during the week. George was a decent cook, but he was a pain in the ass to get along with. He refused to clean up after himself in the kitchen. He left the dirty work to the waitresses and the dishwashers, who deeply resented him.

One weekend in early spring, Cheyenne and Rowdy hauled the bulls to perform in Fort Worth, Texas. George was her oldest, most experienced employee, and she left him in charge. She expected the cook was capable of running the restaurant in her absence. She was sadly wrong. George abused his power and neglected his duties. Cheyenne realized things were out of line within minutes after returning on Monday morning.

LuAnn Long, Cheyenne’s favorite waitress, nervously relayed the details of what had transpired under George’s watch.

“The bar was very busy last night. We stopped serving dinner around eleven. George offered to buy us drinks after we closed the restaurant, and stayed around for a while drinking several shots of Crown. George got hammered. He was so drunk he didn't even lock the doors to the restaurant when he left. We discovered him lying passed out in the doorway of unit number two when we came to work this morning. The kitchen door was wide open and the restaurant was ransacked. The entire liquor cabinet has been cleaned out.” LuAnn had tears in her eyes, she felt sorry for the boss.

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Expensive western decorations were missing. The entire inside of the once-lovely restaurant was trashed. Cheyenne began to cry. It wasn’t often LuAnn saw her boss lady that upset. She realized then they were all in big trouble.

Cheyenne saw George enter the kitchen appearing to be in a stupor. He smelled strongly of alcohol. He held a hand to his forehead. The stench coming from George’s person was so strong it practically knocked her over.

“What happened last night?” she asked glaring at him with contempt.

“Damned if I know! I can’t remember anything!” George looked miserable as he scratched his greasy head.

“If you don’t know, who does? You were in charge, George. What in the hell happened?” she asked again in disgust.

“I wish I knew.” He shook his head, and Cheyenne went ballistic.

“Get the hell out of my sight. I can’t stand the sight of your miserable ass. You’ve blown a great opportunity. Get the hell out of here, you’re fired!”

“I understand,” George muttered, and then stumbled toward the open door.

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Cheyenne stood motionless in the doorway watching George get into his car and drive slowly away. She saw him stop at the top of the driveway. He opened the car door, hung his head low, and violently threw up. Feeling sick to her stomach from the disgusting sight, she turned and walked away. Shaking her head in wonder, she thought. Good riddance to bad rubbish. What a slob!

She was surprised to see him again several months later. She was busy cleaning the restrooms at the restaurant one afternoon when a waitress interrupted her.

“There’s a man out front asking to see you.”

Walking out of the men’s room, she was surprised to see George at the front counter. After running a hand through greasy hair, he extended it toward her for a handshake.

“I hear you might be looking for a cook.”

“Good timing George!” she muttered under her breath. Cheyenne desperately needed to hire a weekend cook. But she cringed at the idea of rehiring George. Needing time to compose herself, she said “Take a seat at the bar. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Returning to the restroom to finish cleaning the toilets, she couldn’t believe he had come in to ask her for a job. Momentarily walking out to

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retrieve supplies, she saw George move around her and enter the men’s room. When she entered the kitchen she saw the staff was worried she would hire him again.

She asked, “Should we give George a second chance? He's here looking for work. We definitely need another cook. What do you think?”

“Hire him! But make sure you talk to him about his specific duties, cleanliness, drinking, and dirty mouth!” The employees knew Cheyenne was desperate. Deciding she had no choice but to rehire him, she left the kitchen and ran into George as he walked past her leaving the men's room.

“I’ll be right with you George.” Returning to the men’s room, Cheyenne was overcome with a horrendous stench. Holding her nose she ran from the room fearing she’d throw up. She scurried to escape the disgusting mess George had left behind.

It surprised her that he had rudely used the toilet without bothering to flush. There was crap smeared on the toilet seat. A humongous pile of poop and a large wad of toilet paper were left standing in the bowl.

“Rowdy, get in here now!” Cheyenne let out a blood curdling scream.

Following her demand, Rowdy ran into the men’s room. After seeing, and smelling, the filthy mess he grabbed his nose, and gagged out loud.

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Cheyenne stood trembling at the front counter, a hand covering her gaping mouth.

“You filthy pig, get out of my restaurant!” she screamed.

Retreating from the disgusting men’s room scene, Rowdy approached George with a hateful look and clinched fist. Cheyenne saw his jawbone twitch.

“Get out of here, you sick bastard. Don’t ever come back! You’re not welcome here!” Rowdy’s eyes blazed with hatred.

The startled cook from Buffalo ran from the restaurant. Rowdy followed close behind yelling at the top of his lungs. “I’m warning you, I’ll shoot your fat ass if I ever see your scum ball face in here again!”

When he was gone, Cheyenne refused to clean up after the slob. She kicked herself for thinking she might have hired him again. Rarely taking a drink of hard liquor, frustrated and upset, she poured a shot of Crown. Drinking the whiskey down in a gulp, she said, “I’m taking a break!”

Leaving the restaurant Cheyenne ran down the hill toward the solitude of the apartment. She felt light headed, and ill. Rowdy followed her into the apartment a few minutes later. Walking through the door, he went straight to the sink. Scrubbing his hands, he saw Cheyenne with a dazed look in her

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eyes, sitting in the leather recliner. Her eyes were glazed over. She held a bottle of Budweiser, tightly between clenched thighs.

“Baby, what are we going to do with this place? It’s killing us!” He looked at her with sad eyes.

“I’ve got to get out of here for a few days,” she whispered. Rising from the chair, she walked to the kitchen sink, and poured the half-drunk bottle of beer down the drain.

“Take me with you!” Rowdy begged with a tired look on his face.

“Let’s go spend a few days in Oklahoma City? This place is driving me nuts. I need a break or I’ll lose my ever-loving mind!” She was overwhelmed.

Rowdy didn’t hesitate. Walking into the bedroom, he quickly packed a bag. Cheyenne followed. Opening the closet door, she tossed clothes onto the bed. When she finished packing, she called the restaurant.

“LuAnn, I’m leaving things in your hands. Rowdy and are going to Oklahoma City to pick up supplies. We’ll be back on Friday.”

“You guys go. Have some fun while you’re at it! I can handle things around here! I’ll see you in a few!” LuAnn enjoyed being left in charge.

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“I didn’t sleep well last night. Will you drive?” Rowdy asked, as he carried their bags toward the truck.

“Of course, I’ll drive. I don’t trust your driving in the city.”

They drove away happy to be leaving Freedom. They were eager to escape the self-made prison, if only for two days. Using her cell phone, she called the Marriott on Northwest Parkway in Oklahoma City and made room reservations. The two-hour drive went by fast. They reached the City just in time for the evening rush hour. Enjoying their alone time on the drive, they kept the conversation light. They both looked forward to a brief vacation.

“The good old days are long gone. It seems like all we do is work, work, work.” She laughed. “That sounds like the words to a country song.”

“We might not get away very often, but when we do we certainly make up for lost time. Let's relax and have a good time tonight Baby!" Rowdy grinned and ran a calloused hand down Cheyenne’s well-toned thigh.

She knew it sounded crazy, but she looked forward to shopping for supplies at Sam’s Club in Oklahoma City. The occasional trips to The City somehow seemed to help them reconnect.

“Where are you taking me for dinner, Pearls or the Red Rock?” Rowdy opened a beer and guzzled it down.

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“I was thinking more about Denny’s, unless of course, you’re buying!” Cheyenne replied, focusing on her driving.

“Shit, baby, I forgot my wallet. You’re going to have to catch it this time. I’ll make it up to you. Trust me! Let’s go to Pearls.”

“Pearls it is!” she agreed. She thought. It will all come out in the wash! Smiling, she remembered the twenty-dollar bill she’d found in the clothes dryer earlier that morning.

Cheyenne loved dining at the restaurants on Lake Hefner in Oklahoma City. She particularly enjoyed being on the water when the wind blew across the lake and the whitecaps lapped at the pier. It reminded her a little of Samish Island.

When Cheyenne bought dinner the sky was the limit. That particular evening was no exception. They took a cab from the hotel to the restaurant, and were pleased when the hostess seated them in a booth overlooking the lake. She ordered a Cosmopolitan, and Rowdy asked for his favorite double Grey Goose vodka on the rocks with no olives. They fully intended to relax and enjoy their time away from Freedom.

“How about lobster and a large filet, want to share? What do you think; let’s have a nice bottle of Merlot with dinner?” Cheyenne nodded in agreement.

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“Order a bottle of Washington wine,” she suggested, looking forward to a glass of Chardonnay.

The night was no different than many of their other dinner dates. Rowdy ordered the wine, and dinner. The meal was excellent. The Grand Marnier they sipped with desert put the perfect finishing touch on a wonderful evening. The alcohol relaxed them. It helped them to forget, if only for a few hours, the work and responsibilities they had left behind at the Freedom ranch.

Leaving the restaurant around ten o’clock, they walked hand in hand along the pier. Coming upon a lone musician playing an acoustical guitar, they heard him sing Desperado.

“That’s your song, baby! You’re a Desperado!” Cheyenne cried out.

Dancing slow together, they swayed to the beat. In love, they were oblivious to the small crowd gathered to enjoy the music. When the dance ended, they made their way across the parking lot to a waiting taxi.

“Thank goodness for the taxi. I had way too much wine. I’m glad I’m not driving.” Cheyenne felt a little drunk and pleased a cab was available to drive them two blocks to the hotel.

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“What fun that was. I love you baby.” Rowdy kissed her and then tapped the driver on the shoulder. “Swing by a quick-stop on the way to the Marriott! I’m out of Copenhagen!”

A sense of happiness and peace came over her. Cheyenne was happy to be alone with her man. She slurred, “It was a good time! Maybe the best time of my life.”

“I love you so much baby! Thanks for being such good company.” Rowdy ran his hand up her thigh and squeezed. The cab pulled into a convenience store.

Leaving her alone in the back seat of the taxi, Rowdy dashed into the quick stop to buy a can of chew. For some crazy reason, Cheyenne suddenly thought about Ryan. She wondered how he'd felt when she'd fled to Freedom. She rarely thought about him anymore. Though sometimes questioning her sanity, she was over Ryan. She was in love with the cowboy.

“What’s this spell I’m under? I must be insane! Why did God send me a cowboy?” She saw the cab driver glance questionably at her in the rear view mirror.

Remembering when they first met. It seemed then that Rowdy was the one, who would help to mend her broken heart. He'd since replaced Ryan in her life. She loved his smile, his hugs, his smiling eyes, and crazy

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personality. Rowdy could still make her laugh even when there was nothing to laugh about.

The taxi drivers' gruff voice brought her back to reality.

“What’s a woman like you doing with a guy like him?” he asked as if reading her mind.

“I wished I knew. It was all an accident,” she laughed seeing Rowdy return to the cab happily flipping the Copenhagen can into the air. It truly had been a wonderful evening. When they entered the hotel room she felt the alcohol take over. Soon after crawling into bed beside her snuff chewing lover, she immediately passed out.

Suffering with the pain of a pounding migraine, Cheyenne woke early the next morning. She felt Rowdy stir and leave the bed. Hearing him brush his teeth, she knew within minutes he would return. It was a routine she always looked forward to, a ritual she'd grown to love, and expect.

She welcomed him with opened arms. Seeing him scamper naked across the hotel room toward her, it was obvious he desired her. Despite the pounding headache, she didn't turn him down. Having sex with her lover was a sure-fire remedy for anything that ailed her. There was no heartache, no worry, or doubt when he held her in his arms. She worshiped him. He adored her. Their love making that morning left them feeling invigorated

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and alive. Their brains numbed and bodies satisfied, they temporarily forgot the hectic lifestyle waiting for them in Freedom.

Rowdy refused to get his hair cut in Freedom. He swore no one there, or in the town of Woodward, knew how to cut hair.

“Why don’t you get a manicure this morning while I get a haircut?” He rolled out of bed anxious to shower and get out and enjoy the day.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” she said following him into the shower.

Walking with him to the door of his favorite hair salon in the Penn Square Mall, she waved good-bye and rode the escalator down to the first floor looking for The Nail Shop.

Meeting later at Rowdy’s favorite Mexican restaurant, they drank cold beer and snacked on warm tortilla chips and hot salsa. The morning sped by.

“We can’t stay here all day. I want to go to Langston’s. You need Wranglers, and I’d like to look for a new pair of boots!” She guzzled down the last drop of beer in her glass.

Rowdy never understood Cheyenne’s obsession with cowboy boots. He thought she must own at least thirty pair. He wondered if buying new boots gave her a sense of security. She had tried to analyze her own crazed addiction and gave up the day she counted two dozen pair sitting on the floor of the closet. She never passed up the opportunity to buy a pair of

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Lucchesse’s. They were the most comfortable boots she'd ever worn. She owned a pair in every color, style and texture. It was as though she expected by owning dozens of cowboy boots, it would insure her cowgirl longevity.

They were in the western store for over an hour. Cheyenne found the perfect red cowboy boots while Rowdy tried on several types of Wranglers, before deciding he’d discovered the right pair.

“Let’s go to Remington Park this afternoon!” Rowdy had a passion for betting on the ponies.

Cheyenne agreed. They spent the rest of the day at the race track. She played the slots and Rowdy made two dollar bets on the horses. They were lucky gamblers. Driving away late that afternoon, they were happy. They had won six hundred dollars between them.

“You’re buying dinner. Let’s go to Mickey Mantle’s!” she teased.

“What’s the deal? Are you going to make me spend my winnings?” He moaned.

“Yes! I do believe it’s your turn!”

Dinner was outstanding! Rowdy ordered steamed crab legs and she decided on prime rib. They enjoyed the excellent red wine highly recommended by the waiter. They made several romantic toasts as other the

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customers in the crowded restaurant looked on. As the night wore on, it was obvious to everyone in the room, they were in love.

“Drink up and be merry, for tomorrow the party is over. God, I wish we didn’t have to go back to the ranch so soon!” Cheyenne sullenly sipped from her wine glass.

“I agree! I’m not ready to get back to the bull shit. Let’s just keep on heading south; we could be in Mexico in a day or two.” Rowdy said with a grin.

They retired early and spent the next morning lying in bed at the Marriott watching old western movies on TV. Both dreaded their inevitable return to Freedom. They checked out of the room at noon. Settling up with the front desk, they walked outside and sadly drove away. Feeling tired and hung over, they stopped at Sam’s Club. Filling two large shopping baskets with supplies, Cheyenne saw, when they checked out, that she paid for a roll of Copenhagen and three cases of Budweiser. She questioned Rowdy about paying for his supplies with company money as they loaded the heavy boxes into the back of the truck.

“I haven’t had a paycheck lately. Consider the chew and beer payment for all my hard work.” He felt no remorse having Cheyenne pay for his supplies.

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“I’ll agree with you, if you promise to drive home.” Cheyenne walked around and got into the passenger side leaving Rowdy no option. He drove home.

Sad their short holiday was over neither of them looked forward to returning to their mundane duties. Arriving at the lodge around four o’clock that afternoon, Rowdy painstakingly unloaded the supplies while. Cheyenne walked into the kitchen to find LuAnn. She was curious to see how well the waitress had handled things in her absence.

“We’ve been busy! I’m glad you’re back. We missed you!” LuAnn said with a smile.

Cheyenne was always a big help to her staff. She worked side by side with them. She never asked an employee to do anything she wouldn’t do herself. Seeing Rowdy carry in the last box, she smiled at him and shrugged her shoulders as if to say: The party’s over! It’s time to get back to work!

LuAnn and Bailey Baxter were Cheyenne’s hardest workers. They enjoyed working the lunch shift together. Both talkative and friendly women, the oil field workers having lunch there enjoyed visiting with them. The two women could handle a full restaurant by themselves. Cheyenne felt comfortable leaving things in their hands. She believed they were honest. Although LuAnn was a little scatterbrained, everyone loved her bubbly personality. Cheyenne couldn’t figure her out. She was either as dumb as a

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rock, or sly as a fox. LuAnn was a pretty woman with long dark hair and a nice smile. She enjoyed flirting with the male customers. She was generously rewarded for her friendliness by the huge tips she received.

A single mom with two young daughters, LuAnn sometimes brought them to work with her. No one in town was willing to babysit them. They were wild kids, with little supervision. LuAnn allowed them to run the streets of Freedom, like a couple of young wolves. She loved her daughters and was proud of them, but had no idea how to discipline them. Cheyenne felt sorry for LuAnn, she identified with her in some ways.

The oil and gas boom going on in the area brought a large number of roughnecks, and strangers, to the lodge. Many of the drilling crews came into the restaurant for lunch. Sometimes they would call in large orders for sixty or more cheeseburgers to go. Cheyenne appreciated their business and she went out of her way to keep them satisfied. The rooms in the lodge would fill with oil workers during the week and tourists on weekends.

Coming into the restaurant for lunch one day, Greg Garrett was impressed with what he saw. He called Cheyenne over to his table.

“I want to rent a room for about a year. I work for Western Gas. Is there a chance you'll give me a special rate?”

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“Why does everyone think I can give them a special rate? My expenses are out of sight. You should pay me double for the privilege of being here,” she chided.

The oil man and the city woman quickly formed a close connection. Cheyenne was taken aback by Greg’s friendliness and he liked her good looks. They worked out a deal between them. Greg moved into room number one the next day.

Cheyenne liked the friendly tenant from Texas. She enjoyed his personality, and admired his gift of gab. He reminded her of an old high school boyfriend. She’d sometimes catch herself calling him Eddie. Greg worked hard, and he played hard. If he was drinking, everyone in the bar drank with him. He’d order a round for the room and put it on his tab. With his friendly disposition, he had no trouble making friends in Freedom.

It was obvious to Cheyenne what time Greg came in from work each day. His room was next door to the office. She’d hear him routinely turn on the shower and crank up the CD player. She enjoyed listening to his music through the walls. His favorite song was Toby Keith’s I Love This Bar. He played it over and over again. Cheyenne believed Greg did love her bar. She often joked with him about buying her out.

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The oilman was a flirt. The waitresses were interested in getting to know him better. He toyed with all of them. When he asked Cheyenne which one would be his best choice, she suggested LuAnn, he chose Bailey.

Bailey was married to a drifter. She had a couple of teenage kids at home. Her daughter was suicidal. Many days Bailey would flee the restaurant in tears, running home to care for her daughter, who'd slit her wrist.

Cheyenne agonized over the lives of her employees. They all seemed to have more than their share of problems.

Bailey fell in love with Greg and divorced her husband. Cheyenne soon realized he was taking Bailey to his bed. She saw them walk together hand- in-hand past her apartment window each night. They were an unlikely couple. Cheyenne had no room to talk. She and Rowdy were an odd couple too.

Greg and Bailey eventually married. He bought her new front teeth, and moved her to Wyoming. Cheyenne was saddened to lose a good employee. She wished them happiness, and asked them to keep in touch.

Life went on in Freedom. Cheyenne lived with the constant changes. In fact, she learned to expect them.

The wind frustrated her. It blew hard, darned near every day. On a particularly windy day, after working for hours on a marketing project

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Cheyenne walked outside, her arms full of envelopes. Before she could get into the car to drive to the post office, a strong gust literally blew her off her feet. Hundreds of letters went flying through the air without postage. The wind blew so hard, she imagined they may have ended up in Kansas, or beyond.

Cheyenne wanted to give up that day. She wanted to throw in the towel. The elements got to her. She hated the wind, as she watched the letters blow where they may. Picking herself up from the ground, she walked back inside. Pulling the shades down, she went to bed, and pulled the covers up over her head. Lying there momentarily, Cheyenne opened her eyes hearing the angry wind howl outside. She realized she couldn’t stay in bed. It was time, to pull it together, and get ready for work. She saw the sky was dark and threatening when opened the apartment door and peered outside. A light rain was beginning to fall. It was obvious they were in for a terrific storm. The telephone rang. She answered, hoping someone was calling to reserve a room.

“We’re under a tornado watch! Batten down and be ready for one hell of a thunderstorm!” Rowdy sounded busy.

“I’m just getting into the shower. I’ll be up to help you out in a few minutes.” Cheyenne hung up the phone, worried about the bad weather.

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From the shower stall she heard thunder, and hailstones pound down hard on the roof. Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped a towel around her, and walked into the living room. Turning on the television she heard the station anchor describe the ongoing threat of tornadoes. He predicted one would touch down somewhere in the vicinity of the ranch. Looking out the window again she saw a large bolt of lightning strike just a few feet from the apartment. Jumping back in fright, she hurried to get dressed and then called Rowdy at the bar.

“Are you watching the weather? It looks bad. Do you think we should head to the park and take cover in the caves?” she asked.

“I think it will pass over us. We’re busy as hell! How soon can you get up here? I need a hand. It seems like most of Freedom is here to wait out the storm.”

“Give me twenty minutes!” She hung up the phone just as another bolt of lightning hit the ground close by. Listening to the thunder roar, she heard the winds get stronger as she pulled on her cowboy boots. The storm was getting worse, and she was frightened. She didn’t intend to die alone in a tornado in Oklahoma.

Grabbing a jacket and umbrella, she opened the apartment door facing weather like she had never seen before. Taking only a few steps, she realized she was in big trouble. The wind blew hard enough to knock her over. The

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umbrella sprung upwards and blew away. Struggling to remain on her feet, Cheyenne was determined if she were going to die, she wouldn’t die alone!

With sheer fortitude, scared out of her wits, Cheyenne plodded slowly up the hill toward the bar. The winds blew wet red clay, covering her from head to toe with a disgusting, thick, wet muck. She hoped luck was on her side when she saw a pickup truck parked halfway up the hill. Battling to reach the truck, she prayed it was unlocked. Strong winds whipping her from side to side, she struggled to remain upright. Refusing to give up, she moved toward the vehicle looking for safe haven from the storm. After several minutes she reached the truck and struggled to get inside. The wind blew the door shut behind her. Exhausted and alone, Cheyenne broke down.

Feeling the truck sway, she heard the wind’s rage and saw hundreds of lightning bolts light up the sky making her tremble and cry out for help. Seeing the rain come down in buckets she feared for her life. Her prayers were soon answered when the storm passed over as quickly as it had blown in. The rain stopped, the winds died down and the sky partially cleared. Cheyenne shivered as she opened the door and stepped out of the truck. When her foot hit the ground she immediately sank down into several inches of red mud. She realized she must look like the Creature from the Black Lagoon as she continued her trek uphill toward the back door of the restaurant.

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When Cheyenne opened the back door to the bar, everyone there stared in disbelief. No one recognized it was her. She was soaking wet, and covered with red mud from head to toe. Her red hair was plastered to her head. The frightened blue eyes peeking out of the wet red clay were her only identifying feature. Rowdy rushed to her side and peeled off her muddy jacket. LuAnn intuitively ran for the kitchen, bringing back wet towels to help clean her up.

Local radio stations broadcasted the area around the lodge had been hit with severe side winds from a tornado that touched down nearby. Cheyenne was fortunate to have survived the short walk up the hill. She was alive and the tornado missed the lodge. She thought. If the situation doesn’t kill you, it only makes you stronger! Thank you, Jesus!

Attempting to console her, Rowdy wiped away tears from her muddy face. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Deciding laughter was the best option, she began to laugh out loud.

Realizing she had walked through severe side winds and survived, she needed a stiff drink. “LuAnn, make me a strong margarita with double shots of tequila! It will take more than a tornado to bring this cowgirl down.”

Sandy and Pam two of Cheyenne’s favorite customers came into the bar at least once a week to drink beer, and visit. Sandy was a kind-hearted, nice guy who constantly asked Cheyenne if there was anything she needed help

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with. He sometimes took time off from his regular job to make repairs at the lodge.

His wife Pam was a pretty, slim red-head who loved everyone around her. She enjoyed her cigarettes and oftentimes begged to smoke inside the restaurant at the main bar. Cheyenne was allergic to smoke, she designated the back bar for smokers. Customers were allowed to smoke away as long as they didn’t bring their cigarettes into the main dining room.

Pam and Sandy stayed late that night. Seeing the restaurant had emptied out, Cheyenne finally agreed to let Pam smoke inside the main bar. They stayed for another hour. Cheyenne and Rowdy were exhausted by the time they said their good-byes. Sandy and Pam were her true friends. She trusted them. She could count on either of them for most anything.

It was after midnight when Rowdy turned out the lights and locked the doors. They walked outside delighted at the clean fresh air. They saw a clear sky filled with twinkling stars, and a bright full moon. Picking Cheyenne up piggy-back style, Rowdy carried her down the mud-slicked hill to the apartment.

Another day had come and gone in Freedom, Oklahoma. Cheyenne felt fortunate to be alive, and happy to be loved. She was anxious to call home and tell her friends about how she’d survived a tornado.

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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

By the spring of 2002, Rocking A Rodeo Company owned over two hundred head of registered bucking bulls; a few hundred head of cattle, several trail horses, a donkey, mule, and two wild buffalo. Cheyenne named the buffalo Thelma and Louise. The neighbors called them trouble. The wild bison were forever knocking down fences to graze wherever they chose. Cheyenne enjoyed watching them roam the land. When she was a young girl her stepfather had owned over three hundred buffalo. She was around them enough to know you couldn’t always trust their disposition; they were born to roam. Rowdy and the wranglers grew weary of chasing them to the ends of the earth.

A customer came into the restaurant one day and asked if they served buffalo burgers. A light went off in Cheyenne’s head. The buffalos’ days of wandering the neighborhood abruptly came to an end. They butchered Thelma and Louise. Cheyenne added buffalo burgers to the menu. Soon

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thereafter Thelma’s head hung over the main bar. The regular customers enjoyed having her watch down over them drink em’ down at the copper- topped bar.

On weekends Rowdy gathered up the trail horses. He would tie the saddled horses to the cedar hitching post at the front of the restaurant. Lodge guests enjoyed long trail rides on one of their gentle mares. From the day they first opened, there was a steady stream of customers. They came from Oklahoma City, Tulsa, Enid, and neighboring country towns. Hanging a large map of the United States on the wall in the back bar, Cheyenne encouraged the visitors to mark their home town with a colored pin. They came from the neighboring states of Colorado, Kansas, Texas, Arkansas, Missouri, New York, and from as far away as Hawaii and Alaska. She was amazed to see several were from Germany, France, Spain and other European countries.

Christmas was a special time at Cedar Creek Ranch. Cheyenne went overboard with decorations. She planned extravagant holiday parties. Although the Christmas of 1996 left a serious scar on her heart, she put the unpleasant memories behind her, and carried on. She'd never forgive Ryan for choosing the holiday as a time to walk away. In the main restaurant, she placed a tall artificial tree, covering it with the hundreds of unique western ornaments she gathered from around the country. Each year Rowdy contributed his share by stringing thousands and thousands of colorful lights

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inside, and outside the restaurant and lodge. Enlisting help from anyone he could capture, they strung the lights all along the old wooden cedar fence encircling the property.

Big red bows and fancy wreaths hung everywhere. Thelma looked particularly beautiful wearing a red Santa hat and velvet red bow. Rowdy traditionally strung lights around Old Blue’s horns. He placed a large red ornament on his nose, and changed his name to Rudolph for the Christmas season.

A large life-size Santa sat in the old antique surrey under cover of the front porch. Each year Cheyenne filled the buggy with brightly wrapped gifts. Families came from far and wide to have their Christmas pictures taken on the surrey; or in front of the blazing fire in the river rock fireplace. The place looked like a winter wonderland. It was obvious her employees and the lodge guests appreciated her efforts.

She closed the restaurant on Christmas Day so employees could be home with their families. They prepared a private dinner in the restaurant kitchen. Rowdy would turn on the large gas fireplace and light the candles on the tables. The place was warm and cozy. They danced around the Christmas tree to the holiday music of Michael Martin Murphy.

Although the closed sign hung in the window Cheyenne watched for cars outside in the parking lot on Christmas Day. When she’d see a vehicle pull

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in, she’d wave the people inside. They enjoyed sharing their happiness with the less fortunate, especially on the special day. She relished welcoming those who had nowhere else to go on Christmas. Many of them returned year after year looking forward to the free holiday dinner.

She especially enjoyed visiting with the state troopers, who would take a short break from their duties long enough to enjoy a hot holiday meal. They would stay long enough to fill their stomachs, and would return to patrolling the ice-covered highways. Cheyenne sensed they missed not being home with their own families on Christmas Day.

She stayed busy year round promoting her dude ranch scheduling events to keep the customers coming back. Their annual Northwest Bull Fest was a huge success every spring. They would buck their best bulls. Cowboys came from all around to get on them. Rocking A Rodeo Company gave away large, engraved, silver belt buckles; and generous cash prizes to the winning riders. Local farmers and ranchers arrived early buying their favorite cowboy in the Calcutta. The annual event brought hundreds of fans to the lodge. Although exhausted from the work, they appreciated the large revenues.

Cheyenne organized ranch rodeos, vintage car shows, motorcycle rides, chili cook-offs, western music concerts, art shows, and fishing derbies hoping to keep the customers happy. Country cowboy singer Michael Martin

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Murphy performed several times at the lodge. His concerts brought in large crowds, requiring Cheyenne, Rowdy and their employees to work overtime.

During one of Murphy’s concerts an employee, Kelly Clark went ballistic. She'd volunteered to work in the outside beer garden during the concert. Working behind the bar, Cheyenne saw her down several shots of tequila. LuAnn called her attention to the fact, Kelly was out of control.

“She’s high on more than tequila! She’s loaded on meth,” LuAnn warned.

Kelly was drunk, and belligerent. There was a lot of work to do before the concert began. The unruly employee was in the way. Cheyenne wanted her gone.

“Kelly, enough is enough. Take the night off! Enjoy the music! We’ll get along just fine without you!” Cheyenne lost her patience.

“Screw you, Cheyenne!” Kelly screamed, flying into a dope-crazed rage.

Screaming loud, with a closed fist, she punched a five-gallon jug of Margaritas, sitting on the outside bar, sending it spilling to the ground. Cheyenne watched in horror as the slick green slime covered the concrete floor.

“Go to hell, Cheyenne!” Kelly screamed, laughing like a maniac.

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“Go home! Get out of here, Kelly! We don’t need you causing any more trouble!”

Seeing she was in big trouble, Rowdy sprung to Cheyenne’s side. He was fit to be tied, seeing the bar maid overstep her boundaries. Glaring at him with hate in her eyes, Kelly flipped up the middle finger and staggered down the hill toward her car. Shaking their heads, the employees mopped up the sticky mess. Cheyenne prepared another jug of Margaritas. She was furious, but she knew better than to argue with a drug-crazed drunk.

The concert began and the crowds rolled in. Cheyenne stayed busy serving drinks to the folks in the beer garden. Keeping an eye out for Kelly, she wondered if she were still on the premises. After hearing Michael Martin Murphy sing his first song, Cheyenne took notice of a female’s voice bellowing her name. She looked up in time to see the furious, overly- drugged, woman storm toward her. Kelly had the look of a wounded wild animal in her eyes. There was no doubt, she planned to attack.

Rowdy overheard the drunken waitress yell. Seeing what was going on from where he was standing at the bar, he stuck out a muscled arm, and grabbed Kelly by the throat. He squeezed until her tongue hung out and her face turned purple. Rowdy refused to loosen his grip. Someone called for the sheriff, hired to police the event. He came running. Yanking Kelly from Rowdy’s grasp, he threw her violently to the ground.

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“Let me go you sorry bastard. I’m going to kill her and you too,” she screamed, punching at the officer, she was out of her mind.

The sheriff was a large man. It was a challenge for him to wrestle the petite woman to the ground. The meth gave her the strength and courage of a lion. She fought like an enraged, caged animal. Calling for backup, he handcuffed her and put her in the back of the patrol car. The concert went on without Kelly. Cheyenne was happy to see her being hauled off to jail.

Kelly was a renegade employee with no respect for authority. She’d adjust the security camera when she worked behind the bar, so it wouldn’t focus on her or the till. She wasn’t only a drunk and a drug user, but a common thief. Her behavior the night of the concert was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Cheyenne refused, under any circumstances, to allow her back on the premises.

Waking up in jail the next morning, Kelly was sober. She knew she was in big trouble. Her son showed up to bail her out. On the way back to Freedom she called Cheyenne.

“I'm so sorry about last night. I was drunk and doped up. I was out of my mind! Please forgive me! I need the job!” Kelly begged. Her head pounded; her body, covered with bruises.

“Sorry. There is no job here for you. I’ve filed charges against you for assault. I have a restraining order. Don’t come into the lodge again or you’ll

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go back to jail. I’ll mail your final paycheck! You’re fired!” Cheyenne hung up the phone vowing not to let the bad experience with Kelly, drag her down.

She thought. Just another day in paradise! Life in Freedom was like a bad dream. Some days were worse than others. When the bad days got to her, she’d try to focus on the good times. After all, there had been a few. There were a handful of good memories to fall back on. Smiling, she remembered how the harvest moon was full the night she'd ridden with Rowdy down to the pond. They stopped the truck, turned up the radio, and danced on the grass to the George Strait song, “Under this Old Hat”. She'd fit just right under Rowdy’s old hat.

She remembered the hours she'd spent riding around in the old farm trucks looking for cattle; and how Rowdy taught her to drive the tractor. They had fun taking the bulls around the country. She thought. Life isn't all that bad. I've made lots of great memories!

There were other thieves, besides Kelly, working behind the bar. Kim Jacobs the older, big butted brunette continually talked about vacation plans in New York City. When she came to work, she'd place a large tip jar on the bar and fill it with one-dollar bills. The security camera focused in on Kim, She neglected to ring up drinks and would stuff cash into the tip jar, rather than putting it into the till. At the end of her shift, Kim would count the twenties in the tip jar, and brag loudly about how well she’d done. Her

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favorite saying was, “New York City, here I come.” Kim’s stealing was so obvious, it was almost comical. Days after hiring her, Cheyenne let her go. She had all the proof she needed. It was time to cut her losses. She doubted Kim would ever make it to New York City, suspecting she'd ever change her stealing ways. She pictured her sitting in a prison cell, wearing stripes.

Cheyenne’s unbelievable experiences with employees wore on her. Was any one in town honest? Just when she’d think she’d found a good employee, all hell would break loose again. The individuals she hired in Freedom seriously weakened her trust in mankind.

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The dawn of every day presented new challenges. Many times she wondered if she would survive another minute in Freedom. However, rather than take the easy way out, she chose to stick around, and put up her best fight.

Her patience was tried over and over again. Cheyenne struggled to handle everything that came her way. She'd learned to take the good with the bad; and to expect the worse. It was inevitable the days would never go as planned. She’d get knocked down, and bounce back up. An undying fortitude refused to let her fail.

A handful of drunken bull riders, with spurs on, climbed onto the roof of the restaurant one night, sending Cheyenne over the edge. She went ballistic seeing them dance on the restaurant roof with their spurs on.

“Get the hell off the roof!” She looked toward Rowdy for support.

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“Calm down, Cheyenne! It’s not that big of a deal! They’ll come down when they need another beer!” Rowdy slurred, the whiskey he’d drunk, mellowing him out. Slugging down another shot of Crown, he turned his back and swaggered away.

His indifference showed more often than not lately. She could rarely count on him for anything.

“Screw you!” Taking action, Cheyenne climbed onto the roof. “Get down now, or I’ll throw you off myself!” she screamed.

Seeing the fire in her eyes, the drunken young bull riders jumped one by one to the ground.

It was one senseless incident after another. Each time she had to defend herself, she wondered how much more she could take. The love affair had turned into a nightmare!

There was a fist fight in the bar one Friday night, between a waitress named Annie, and her boyfriend, Josh. Seeing what was going on, Rowdy took action. Pulling them apart, he held them by the back of their necks and shoved them toward the back door. Shoving the door open, he forcefully threw them outside. Most times, Josh respected Rowdy. He knew better than to make him mad. Realizing he’d overstepped his boundaries, Josh was afraid Rowdy would whip his ass.

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“Get in the fucking truck, Annie. The man’s a maniac,” Josh screamed running for his life.

Without delay, Annie turned her anger toward Rowdy. She slapped and clawed like a wild cat. Protecting himself, Rowdy tackled her to the ground.

“Damn it, Annie, you know better than to start shit with me. Shut your flipping mouth, and get the hell out of here.” Rowdy yelled, struggling to hold her down.

Seeing she wasn’t going to shut up and leave, Rowdy came up with a plan. Taking off his boot, he tore off a dirty sock, and stuffed it into her mouth. The screaming stopped. Annie commenced to gagging, choking and crying. All she wanted was to get the smelly sock out of her mouth.

“If you’re ready to calm down, I’ll take my sock back.” Rowdy was pissed. He was in no mood to put up with Annie’s big mouth.

Annie rocked her head back and forth, wanting him to stop. Her eyes filled with tears.

“Now get the hell out of here. Keep your big mouth shut or I’ll put the sock back in!” Rowdy saw her shake her head in agreement. Laughing at the fright he saw in her eyes, he yanked the sock from her mouth.

Coming to her rescue, Josh shoved Rowdy aside and pulled the sobbing girl to her feet. He comforted her as though they hadn’t disagreed.

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"You won't get away with this!" Annie screamed angrily.

Taking her by the hand, Josh walked her toward the truck and pushed her inside. Watching what was going on through the restaurant window Cheyenne saw Annie scream and yell as they drove away.

Several months went by before Annie forgave Rowdy for stuffing the smelly, sweaty sock into her mouth.

Rowdy rarely bowed down to anyone. Although usually easy going, when he was mad, he was mad! Rowdy was a tough guy. Drunk or sober, most times he made a good bar bouncer.

Cheyenne had previously owned several businesses. This was her first restaurant, and bar. In the beginning, she’d thought the restaurant business would be exciting and fun. She soon found she was wrong. It didn't take long for her to recognize the difference between a beer drunk and a whiskey drunk. Beer drinkers were generally mellow and funny. Whiskey drinkers, especially in Freedom, were always looking for trouble.

Taking a load of bulls to Enid for a bull ride one Saturday night, Rowdy left Cheyenne alone to run the bar. Rhett, a local banker, had sat at the bar for a couple of hours drinking double shots of Crown. Bobby Barnett, a local, loud-mouthed punk, sat next to him. The men had a heated discussion about the OSU and Texas football game they were watching on the bar television. Rhett was drunk. Having consumed too many beers, Bobby

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talked loud. Cheyenne was fed up, seeing other customers become annoyed at his big loud mouth.

“Bobby, I’m cutting you off! Get out of here! You’ve had too much to drink! I won’t serve you anymore.”

Instantly turning his wrath, toward her, he took another drink of beer. Staring her down, he said defiantly, “Screw you bitch! I’m not going anywhere! Give me another Budweiser.”

Without delay, Cheyenne spun on her heels. She moved quickly, walking into the back bar looking for her bouncer. She was relieved to see Steve was there playing pool and drinking beer.

“Steve, I need you to throw Bobby out. He’s drunk and obnoxious. I want him out of here now!” Cheyenne was fit to be tied.

When Steve entered the lounge, Bobby gulped down what was left of his beer, and ran like a scared rabbit for the back door. Happy to see him leave, Cheyenne turned her attention to the banker.

“Rhett, you’ve had too much to drink! I won’t serve you anything but coffee. Would you like something to eat?” she asked.

Without waiting for an answer, Cheyenne walked into the kitchen and ordered him a cheeseburger. Rhett was generally a quiet, polite drunk. That day wasn’t any different. He never gave Cheyenne any trouble. Drinking

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down several cups of coffee, he ate the cheeseburger, and watched the end of the football game.

When the game was over, she turned off the television and was surprised to hear Rhett sing. He sang every country song he knew; he was a pretty good singer. When he finished one song, the customer’s would encourage him to sing another. Rhett was a show-off. He enjoyed the attention they gave him. Singing his heart out for over an hour, Rhett appeared sober when he eventually stood up, and made his way to the front door.

“Goodnight, Rhett! Are you sure you’re okay to drive? I can call Sherry to come and get you!” she called out from behind the bar.

“Don’t call my wife, I can drive myself home. I’ve had enough coffee to sober up a giant,” he muttered and walked outside.

The telephone rang. Cheyenne was relieved to hear Sherry’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Has Rhett left yet? Do I need to come and get him?” she asked.

“Oh, he’s fine. He’s had plenty of coffee. I made him eat a cheeseburger. He’s just leaving. He should be home in ten minutes.” Cheyenne hung up the phone.

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Suddenly she saw a dark figure run out of the shadows like a lightning bolt. Warning Rhett of the pending attack, she screamed, “Rhett, watch out! Bobby’s out to get you!”

Looking startled, the banker turned to face his attacker. Seeing Bobby fly through the air, she heard a loud thud when Rhett’s head hit the sidewalk. Holding Rhett to the ground, Bobby beat him violently in the face with his fists. The fall to the ground and subsequent beating, knocked Rhett out cold. Cheyenne saw the blood. She couldn’t see him breathing. She thought Rhett was dead.

“Stop it Bobby. You’ve killed him. Enough is enough!” Cheyenne screamed fearing the worse.

Seeing what was going on, LuAnn screamed, “We’ve called the sheriff. You’re going to jail, Bobby! Stop it, you idiot!”

Someone dialed 911. Within minutes, they heard loud sirens and saw flashing blue lights as the ambulance sped up the highway toward the lodge. Bobby stopped the beating and moved away in a drunken stupor. He sat down on a bench by the front door and held his head in his hands.

“The law’s on the way, Bobby. Stay where you are. You’re going to jail!” Cheyenne shook her head back and forth in disgust.

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Three paramedics hovered over the banker. It took all three of them to revive him. When he opened his eyes they checked his vitals and wiped the blood from his head. Helping him onto a gurney, they rolled him into the ambulance convinced he didn’t need further medical attention. As they shut the door, Cheyenne heard them say he was drunk and that they would drive him home. The volunteer medics saw no need to call in the law. That was just one of the ways Freedomites took care of their own.

Cheyenne saw Bobby get up from the bench and stagger to his pickup. He opened the door, got in and drove out in a cloud of dust, throwing gravel and squealing tires as he sped away. Bobby was an arrogant young man, even more so when he was drinking. Cheyenne saw he was a loose cannon, she never trusted him. Relieved to have him gone, she didn’t give a damn if he ever came back. She planned to ban him for life.

Making the bank deposit on Monday morning, she saw the banker had a black eye. He looked a bit pale and somewhat sheepish, but other than a shattered ego, he seemed okay.

“How are you feeling?” Cheyenne asked handing him her deposit.

“I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” Rhett appeared humble and disappointed in himself.

It was a rare Saturday night in Freedom a young drunk didn’t come into the bar already high on whiskey, and looking for a fight. Cheyenne kept her

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eye on a handful of the punks she knew she could count on to cause trouble. She’d kick them out one weekend and they would return the next, believing she'd forgiven them for their ignorance the weekend before.

Rowdy was never one to hold a grudge. Cheyenne was. Losing her patience, she began to dislike the young drunks. She was more forgiving of the older ones but the younger ones could get under her skin. Many of the younger cowboys who came into the bar had no respect for anyone. She wondered if they even respected themselves. Having no regard for her investment, they took great pleasure in destroying or stealing her property. The hooligans knew exactly what to do to piss her off. It seemed to her that she was pissed off more often than not lately.

The night they joined a group of younger bar patrons in the beer garden, the dinner crowd was slight. Most of them had eaten early and gone home. Locking up the main restaurant, Cheyenne walked outside. She saw two very intoxicated young women hanging out in the beer garden. They only got drunker as the night wore on. She finally gave them fair warning, and cut them off. The women began suggestively dancing together. Enjoying the show, the men clapped seeing the women begin to take off their clothes. Cheyenne had seen enough.

“Take it down a notch. Keep your clothes on and act respectable. If you’re not going to listen, then get the hell out!” She was anxious for them all to leave before things got out of control.

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Ignoring her wishes, the men encouraged the bad behavior, turning their cheers into jeers. Cheyenne was determined not to back down. She turned off the music and closed down the bar.

“It’s lights out. The party’s over. You boys can leave too, for all I frigging care. The ladies have had way too much to drink. You’re not going to take advantage of them on my property this time! Get on out of here. We’re closed!” Cheyenne had been through nights like this before. She worried about the women knowing how unfeeling cowboys could be.

Not hearing the music play, the drunken women stopped dancing. The heavier of the two abruptly plopped down on a saddle barstool sitting near the dance floor. Falling straight forward over the front of the saddle horn, she landed flat on her face on the cement floor. The fall knocked her out cold. The cowboys rolled her over and saw she’d broken her nose. Blood spewed everywhere. It took two of them to pick her up and carry her to a pickup parked close by. Seeing them drive away, Cheyenne assumed they were taking her to the emergency room. As the days passed by, she never learned what had happened to the drunken cowgirls. She imagined they were from out of town, as the women never came into her bar again.

Rowdy’s stepson Trevor Davis was on Cheyenne’s shit list. Generally intoxicated, he was a sarcastic little drunk. One evening she heard loud voices come from the back bar.

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“Trevor, shut your mouth. You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. No one in here hit your damned truck. You’re not going to call the law!” Usually a patient man, Steve grew tired of the sniveling.

Paying him no mind, Trevor proceeded to dial 911. With one swift punch, Steven hit Trevor in the nose. He knocked him out cold. The crowd in the bar let out a cheer. Cheyenne motioned toward Steve giving him two thumbs up. Shane quickly slung Trevor over his shoulder. He carried him out to his truck and hauled him home to bed.

Rowdy’s step-son was trouble with a capital T. Cheyenne saw it early on. She'd called the law on him after he'd rented six rooms at the lodge for his bull riding buddies and never paid the bill. Filing a complaint against him, she threatened to send him to jail. His grandmother paid the bill to keep him out of prison. Cheyenne was grateful to get her money, but she'd wished Trevor had gone to jail. She wondered when his luck would run out.

Rowdy was helping the waitresses close the night a pair of tough-looking biker guys walked into the bar. It was around midnight. The bartender had already turned off the open sign.

“We’ll serve you one, but its closing time!” Rowdy yawned. He glared at the unwelcome bikers without saying another word.

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The men ordered two shots of Jose Cuervo, and drank them down fast. They asked for another round of drinks.

“Sorry boys, no more Tequila! It’s closing time!” Rowdy was in no mood to put up with their nonsense.

“Screw you, old man! You heard what we said! We’d like another shot of gold!” The biker’s snarled.

Rowdy had worked a sixteen-hour day. Although he was tired, he was in one of his kick-ass moods. He had no intention of backing down. He thought. I’d just as soon kick your biker asses as to serve you another drink!

“Sorry boys! We’re not going to serve you anymore, its past closing time. Liquor laws say we can’t serve you after two a.m.” Rowdy made no attempt to control his rage.

The bikers saw him walk toward the front door and turn off the open sign. Looking slyly at each other as if to give a signal to attack, the men came up off their bar stools at the same time. They lunged for Rowdy, and immediately realized it was a mistake. Nobody messed with Rowdy, especially when he was in one of his moods. Karate-chopping one of the big men across the front of his throat, he kicked the other one in the groin. Pulling a large knife from his boot, Rowdy slashed it in the air, as if he wanted them to come back for more. Seconds later, convinced they had encountered a madman, the injured bikers moved toward the front door.

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“No more, man! Enough already! We’re leaving, they yelled sounding out of breath.

Rowdy moved quickly. Reaching for a loaded thirty-eight they kept behind the front counter, he pointed it at the men. Holding the gun in one hand and a knife in the other, he followed them outside. Placing the knife blade between his teeth, he held the gun with both hands, steadying it as if he intended to pull the trigger. Seeing the madman was prepared to shoot to kill, they ran for their lives. Rowdy had beaten the crap out of them, leaving their faces swollen and bloody. Running up the steps, they jumped on their waiting Harleys. Revving the engines, they sped away into the night.

The female employees on shift that evening, considered Rowdy a hero. “Thank goodness you were here! What would we have done without you?”

Fearing the men would return for revenge, Rowdy slept that night with one eye open, and the loaded Smith and Wesson under his pillow. When the dawn broke, he got out of bed, tired, but thankful he hadn’t shot anyone. The beaten bikers stopped for a beer at the biker bar in Woodward, the next day warning others to stay away from the Rusty Spur and the lunatic who ran it.

The expensive hot tub she installed at the lodge for guests only soon turned into a swimming hole for the locals. The cowboys brazenly took advantage. They were in and out of the Jacuzzi all hours of the day and

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night. When she caught them, she ran them off. She knew when she wasn’t around they used it to take their weekly baths.

Awakened from a deep sleep at the apartment, one cold winter’s night, they heard the sound of loud laughter coming from the vicinity of the hot tub.

“Who in the hell would be out there, in this kind of weather?” Cheyenne complained angrily.

“I don’t know, but I'm about to find out.” Rowdy stumbled out of bed and loaded his gun.

Pulling on his Wrangler’s, Cheyenne heard him cock the pistol as he walked out the door. Creeping around the building to the back of the lodge, he stopped in the dark. He had a clear vision of the partying intruders. Engrossed in conversation, the revelers didn’t see or hear him approach.

Firing a round into the air, he saw several bodies jump naked from the tub. They sprinted across the frozen grass. Running for their lives, they left their clothes and beer behind. In the darkness he recognized the two young female in the group. The frightened trespassers piled into a pickup truck parked half way up the hill.

“You crazy son-of-a-bitch, we weren’t doing anything wrong. Screw you, Harrison!” Rowdy heard them shout as they drove away.

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In the restaurant the next morning, a young waitress overheard him tell the story to a customer at the bar. Looking tired, she nervously approached.

“I want my clothes back. You scared the hell out of me last night. Were you aiming at us? You could have killed someone. We meant no harm.” She was angry and thankful she hadn’t been shot.

“Sure, I’ll give you back your clothes, but I'm keeping the beer! Don’t do that again. Tell all your friends, the next time I’ll shoot first and ask questions later!” Rowdy warned. He laughed out loud.

The midnight hot tub incident only provided more fuel for the fire. Cheyenne was in deep thought as she wrote about it in her journal the next day.

The investment had been a huge mistake. She hadn’t imagined the problems a hot tub would create. She'd installed it for the use of her paying lodge customers, and ended up with an endless flow of trespassing freeloaders.

On a busy Saturday night at the restaurant, after a bull riding event at the arena, Cheyenne carried a load of dirty towels from the kitchen down to the laundry room. When she walked inside she saw the dryer was running. The window of the dryer was caked with wet red mud. Opening the door she screamed finding it full of muddy Wranglers, wet shirts, men’s underwear, and dirty socks.

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“What in the hell is going on here?” She yelled out loud, frustrated to be facing yet one more dilemma.

Hearing loud male voice come from the vicinity of the hot tub, anger boiled up inside her again. The young bull riders didn't see her coming. She saw Trevor, Shane and five other young bull riders relaxing in the hot tub drinking beer. The partying cowboys were having a great time.

“You little bastards, get the hell out of there! You know the tub is for lodge guests only! I’ve told you all a million times!” Cheyenne exploded.

Trevor and Shane jumped, at the sound of her angry voice. Wearing only underwear, they stumbled out red-faced, and began to dress. However, their friends sat still, their mouths wide open.

“Get out of there!” she screamed again, in a shrill, angry voice.

“Ma’am...would you mind getting our underwear from the dryer? We’re not wearing any clothes!” She heard a drunken young cowboy say in a slow Texas drawl.

The bull rider’s muddy clothes were ruining her new clothes dryer. Feeling no sympathy, she screamed again.

“Get your naked asses out now!”

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This time they listened. One by one Cheyenne saw their bare butts scurry off into the darkness. She heard beer bottles clank together as they ran naked across the grass.

“You crazy bitch,” they hollered back at her as they ran.

Cheyenne was furious. Trevor and Shane were both aware of her damned rules, but they were always the first ones to break them. Feeling used and abused, she was fit to be tied. Walking back inside, she pulled the muddy clothes from the dryer, throwing them out the back door onto the grass. Locking the laundry door behind her, Cheyenne returned to the restaurant.

“What’s wrong with you?” Rowdy asked seeing the look on her face when she walked into the kitchen.

Unable to hold back the tears, she blurted out the story about the drunken cowboys in the hot tub. Rowdy only laughed. He found it amusing. The uncaring attitude upset her even more.

“Bastard, I once loved your easygoing disposition. It’s not so wonderful anymore. Why are you always so carefree about everything?” she asked with tears rolling down her face.

Rowdy couldn’t control his grown sons, but she'd expected he would at least back her up. The hot tub was off-limits. She thought. Nothing is off

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limits around here! It’s all a free ride to everyone except me. I’ve lost my mind! Why am I here? This is so crazy!

The next day, Cheyenne posted more signs on the fence surrounding the hot tub. Hot Tub for Use of Paying Lodge Guests Only! No Exceptions! Absolutely No Glass Containers in this Area!

She couldn’t have been any more specific with her signs. Nevertheless, she knew many living in the Freedom area had no respect for authority of any kind. They had no regard for her efforts, signs, or the money she’d invested. She thought. Maybe the idiots don’t know how to read. Realizing she couldn’t let things get to her so easily, she calmed down and returned to the apartment.

Sitting quietly in the leather recliner, Cheyenne realized her beautiful hideaway had slowly turned her into a monster. She had no support from Rowdy. She’d lost control. Loathing the situation, she was unhappy with her life in Freedom. She worried she’d eventually hate the man she’d once loved. She wished she could just pack up and go home! However, just when she felt like she couldn’t take it anymore, something would always happen to lift her spirits

The stillness in the apartment was interrupted by the telephone ringing. The man calling identified himself as a guard from the state prison in Alva. She thought. What now?

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“A few of our prisoners are entered in the rodeo at Macalester. Do you have any young bulls for them to practice on?”

“I think so, if you’re willing to bring them here to ride. I will not haul the bulls to Alava.” She sat down at the desk, suddenly interested in what he had to say.

“No problem. We’d like to bring them over every Wednesday afternoon for the next five weeks. They need lots of practice. I’m sure your bulls could use some outs.” He was happy to hear Cheyenne agree.

She thought. Why not? Bull-riding prisoners couldn’t be any worse than the other bull riding bastards I deal with around here!

“Let’s do it. We’ll train the young bulls, and give your prisoner's a lesson too.”

Hanging up the phone she worried she'd made the right decision. She'd usually consulted Rowdy on such matters. But lately she hadn’t been in the mood to talk to him about anything.

Tired of the fight, she went to bed early. Hearing Rowdy come in around midnight, she saw he was drunk again. Pretending to be asleep, she closed her eyes deciding to wait until morning to tell him the news. Waking around seven, she was surprised to see Rowdy asleep on the couch. Making a lot of

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noise in the kitchen, she made coffee. Seeing him stir, she poured him a cup, and sat down on the edge of the couch.

“I got a call last night from the prison in Alva. Prisoners will be coming over on Wednesdays for the next five weeks to ride our bulls,” she blurted it out. Seeing him take a sip of coffee, she wondered what his reaction would be

“That’s great news! Good job, baby. The bulls need some outs. It will sure help us with our training program.”

She was happy to hear Rowdy agree with her decision. Cheyenne didn’t want another argument. For the next five weeks the prisoners came to the arena. She enjoyed seeing them ride. The prison guards would release the chains around their shackled ankles only long enough to allow the burly men the freedom to ride. They would climb into the chute, and straddle the big bulls. As they wrapped the bull rope around their chained wrists, Cheyenne worried they would get hung up if they were thrown from the ride.

The ruthless prisoners had no fear. Seeing them climb on one bull after another, it was difficult to hold their hand high in the air with the heavy chains wrapped around their wrists. The prisoners spurred the bulls with wild abandonment. They whooped and hollered hanging on for the eight- second ride. After five weeks, they stopped coming to the ranch. She never heard how they did at Macalester. She thought. Does anyone really care?

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Later in the fall, Cheyenne retreated again to her home in Arizona. In her absence, Rowdy rented a room to Allan Sharp, a drifter who had camped out at the park next door. He enjoyed hearing the stories the old man would tell. He claimed several years before he’d drawn all the maps of the caves in the area. Rowdy’s curiosity got the best of him. Rumor had it that there was gold buried in those caves; hidden there by a bank robber over a hundred years ago. Rowdy treated the drifter like a king, hoping to learn where the gold was buried.

Allan charged his meals at the restaurant, ran up a huge bar tab, and didn’t pay his rent. Staying there for over two weeks, he always promised the staff he’d pay them the next day. When Cheyenne called the lodge to get a report on how things were going in her absence, LuAnn answered the phone.

“The old fart in room number two hasn’t paid his tab yet. He owes us over a thousand dollars. He tells me every day he’ll pay up tomorrow. He drinks several beers in the bar during the day, and when he leaves in the late afternoon he has me fill a gallon-sized mayonnaise jar full of drought to take to his room,” LuAnn explained breathlessly.

Winter came early. The frozen ground was covered with snow and ice. One afternoon the crowd in the bar saw the old man stagger down the snow- covered hill carrying a gallon jar of beer. Allan slipped and fell several times. He’d slip and roll without spilling a drop of beer. He’d pick himself

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up, sit the beer down in a snow drift, and piss in the wind. Before he could zip his pants, he fell again, tumbling head over heels down the hill, leaving his beer behind. His pants fell down around his ankles and his white, bare butt shone. Covered with snow, he looked like a snowman when he landed at the bottom of the hill. Behaving as though the fall was just a normal occurrence, he pulled up his pants and trudged back up the hill.

Several weeks later, Allan moved out of the lodge. He filled out a counter check from the bank in Freedom to settle his account. Taking the check from him, LuAnn wasn’t aware he’d written the wrong account number on it. Seeing the signature was beyond recognition and the account number nonexistent, the bank returned the check for nonpayment. When Cheyenne returned in early December, she turned the matter over to the prosecuting attorney.

Allan Sharp was arrested for failing to pay a lodge keeper, and was incarcerated. She began to receive regular monthly checks from the Woodward County Jail. The beer drinking map maker eventually paid her the money he owed. He never came back to the lodge. Cheyenne thought. Good riddance to bad rubbish!

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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Cheyenne’s life in Freedom, Oklahoma, bore no resemblance to the pampered lifestyle she'd known before meeting the cowboy in Las Vegas. Knowing she could flee to the sanctuary of one of her lovely homes in Paradise Valley, Puerto Vallarta, or Samish Island, gave her the strength to survive the daily challenges she faced at the ranch. She returned often to the state of Washington to deal with her divorce. The complex legal battle took over three years. She eventually settled for five million dollars.

Cheyenne wasn’t a quitter. Although there were many days in Freedom she wanted to quit, she didn’t. She always found a way to restore her vitality, mind, and spirit.

Routinely living her life, she sometimes missed her well-to-do girlfriends, especially the trips she'd taken with them to exotic places around the world. She was envious, every time she’d learn about someone getting a new Bentley, or a diamond bracelet from one of their rich, cheating husbands.

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As a wealthy car dealer’s wife, Botox injections were an important part of her world. She was so far removed from her previous life, it all felt like a bad dream. Pining for the good times she’d had with her wealthy friends, she missed the long lunches, brunches, shopping, and regular visits to the plastic surgeon. The days of having her nails done or getting weekly massages were history. She doubted her spoiled, rich women friends, with their store-bought boobs, sucked thighs, and plumped-up lips, would be able to survive in Freedom.

Many of the hard working women she met in Oklahoma were weathered, yet beautiful. She thought. It would be fun to bring the motorhome down here. I’d drive around and pick up all the farmer’s hard working wives, and take them to a spa. The women living in the rural area around Freedom deserved more from life. She wondered if they knew what they were missing.

She gave herself credit for how she’d altered her lifestyle. If she could survive there, she could survive anywhere. Some of her life in Oklahoma was satisfying and rewarding. She knew she’d have a tough time convincing her socialite friends, there was anything good about it.

Cheyenne organized a retreat at Cedar Creek Ranch hoping to attract women to participate in daily walks, healthy eating, spa treatments, western line dancing, riding lessons, and campfire cookouts. She proudly called the event Buckaroo Babes Woman’s Retreat. When the female guests arrived,

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she made them feel welcome. Giving a cowboy hat and western bandana to each of them, she hoped to put them in a cowgirl state of mind.

Seeing a van full of women arrive at the lodge late one evening, Rowdy hoped to get in on the action. He wanted to personally welcome each one, anxious to see what they looked like. It was a dark night. There were no stars in the sky. Creeping along the shadowy front porch, he tapped on the door of unit number two. The frightened women peered through the window pane.

“Hello ladies! Welcome to the lodge. I’m your neighbor. I live just down the hill. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.” Rowdy tipped his hat and grinned.

The city women were petrified. One dialed 911 and another called her husband in Oklahoma City to report the intrusion.

The next morning they were all in the office at seven, explaining the incident to Cheyenne. They described a frightening old hermit saying he’d pounded on their door the night before.

“Ah, so you met Rowdy!” Cheyenne said with a grin. She saw his pickup come down the driveway. She couldn’t wait to introduce her cowboy to the city girls.

After the introduction, they seemed relieved there wasn’t a killer on the loose. The women relaxed. Rowdy laughed about it for months. Telling the

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story to anyone who would listen, he got a kick out of scaring the hell out of Cheyenne’s fancy women guests.

Providing lessons on how to rope and ride during the day, she prepared pitchers of frozen Margaritas in the Rusty Spur Lounge. She arranged for a few, choice, local cowboys to be there, to two-step the women around the lodge dance floor at night.

Her guests ended the long day in the hot tub, with a cold beer or a glass of fine wine. The bubbling hot water soothed their aching bodies, and the alcohol relaxed their minds, and loosened their tongues. Vowing to return, the women happily shared stories about their personal lives and the good times they had at the lodge. Buckaroo Babes Retreat was a huge success. Cheyenne enjoyed all of the city women she met. They came from all over the country, sharing at least one thing in common, a hidden desire to be a cowgirl. She did her best to keep them entertained, knowing they would remember the good time they had there.

Being a promoter, she continually planned events. She attracted visitors from all walks of life, and from around the country. Despite the hard work, she sometimes felt like she was sitting on top of the world. Having turned her dreams into a reality, Cheyenne was content more often than not.

“The best view of the country is from the back of a horse!” she overheard a ranch hand say one day.

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She agreed, and sold the idea to every visitor who walked through the front door. Persistently encouraging the visitors to sign up for the daily trail rides, she hired experienced cowboy and cowgirl wranglers to lead the rides. She expected her employees to share their personal stories about their country way of life with the city guests. Trail rides were a popular, and profitable, part of her dude ranch business. Guests helped with the everyday ranch work by participating in cattle drives, building fence, feeding the critters, and any other chores Rowdy needed help with.

Steve Halderman, a wrangler she called Big Steve, resembled the actor John Wayne. Steve had an outgoing, friendly personality. He was larger than life with a six-foot-six-inch frame. A talented cook, he enjoyed preparing weekend breakfasts for the guests. He used cast iron pots and skillets to prepare delicious meals over a campfire down by the lake.

Big Steve enjoyed his job. He liked to walk the walk and talk the talk. Wearing colorful western shirts, a scarf tied around his neck, and knee- length leather chaps, he tucked his Wranglers into his fancy cowboy boots. His spurs jingle-jangled when he walked across the restaurant floor. The women visitors fell in love with Big Steve. He had more girlfriends coming and going than a fella could shake a stick. Big Steve was also a talented singer who enjoyed singing old cowboy songs. A great horseman and fantastic cook, most of all, Big Steve was a gentleman. Cheyenne could count on him for practically anything.

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An old, green army truck with built-in benches transported the elderly, small children, and those who didn’t like to ride horses, down to the lake for the country cookouts. The open-aired truck provided the guests with panoramic views of the vast ranch.

Several authentic, hand-painted Indian teepees were scattered here and there over the property. Lodge guests, who didn’t mind sleeping in the dirt, enjoyed spending the night in the teepees. Unfortunately the high wind and unpredictable weather eventually took their toll. After only two seasons, the tattered teepees were retired and used to cover hay in the barn.

An employee, Buck Jones, fancied himself a local folk hero, and a ladies’ man. His true claim to fame was his passion for Budweiser beer.

Buck was a scrawny guy with a skinny muscled butt, and a rugged, pock- marked face. An ornery old coot, he rarely smiled. Cheyenne wondered if he had any teeth. Buck knew how to fish and how to catch rattlesnakes. He’d trap a few large prairie rattlers and keep them in a covered wooden box, under the bandstand at the lodge. Occasionally, he’d convince the tourists, for a five-dollar bill or a cold beer, he’d dance with the snakes. Buck would dance a silly jig. Kicking out his foot, he would cause the snakes to strike at the sole of his boot. Old Buck wasn’t one of Cheyenne’s favorite wranglers, but most of the guests seemed to enjoy his rare, unique style.

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Having been bitten by snakes, many times in his short life, he’d survived. In the end, it wasn’t the snakes that killed him. The invincible man died of a broken neck. He was thrown from his pickup truck, driving on the dusty, winding back roads, returning to Freedom from the bar in Waynoka.

Buck had a handful of friends. Rowdy was one of them. He’d forever taken care of the drifter, in one way or another. Giving him work when he was down and out, Rowdy gave him a place to live when he didn’t have anywhere else to go. When Buck Jones died, Rowdy paid for the funeral.

In the early spring, around Easter, Cheyenne allowed guests to hunt for prairie rattlers on the ranch. She’d see the locals catch the snakes. They would skin them, dip them in batter, and deep fry them, claiming the meat tasted like chicken. That time of year she would offer a rattlesnake special on the menu. Those who tried it said it didn’t taste that bad.

Most lodge guests had hearty appetites. Cheyenne strived to fill their stomachs. The portions and quality of the meals served at the Rusty Spur Café were exceptional, both in size and taste. Customers commented on the quality and abundance of the hearty country breakfasts. The large mesquite wooden tables in the main dining room filled with hungry patrons who enjoyed the ambiance of the massive river rock fireplace.

Through both good times and bad, Cheyenne kept the restaurant open seven days a week, serving breakfast, lunch and dinner. The cowboys and

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others who sauntered in and out of the restaurant enjoyed a wide variety of great-tasting food; from juicy hamburgers to thick steaks. The full liquor bar offered a wide variety of mixed drinks, cold beers and frosty Margaritas. The females favored the Rawhide Rita’s, claiming they were the best they had ever drunk.

A food critic once wrote an article in the Daily Oklahoman about the food and ambiance at the Cedar Creek Ranch and Rusty Spur Café.

“There are certain places one expects to find great restaurants, like Oklahoma City, Dallas or New York City. Near Freedom, Oklahoma is a hot new eatery conspicuously absent from the list. Yet residing in this reliable ranch country in Northwest Oklahoma is a place called the Rusty Spur Cafe, which offers an exquisite cuisine and a western log lodge atmosphere.

The restaurant takes a lot of sterling silver prime meat and cooks it in a most appealing style. The result is a delightful experience. The peace, the quiet, the sense of security, the interaction with the people who live around the area, and the feeling of being treated like a valued guest, make this dining experience most enjoyable. A guest at an adjacent table commented,

‘It makes you feel like you’re somewhere else, like perhaps, a Colorado ski lodge.’ Start with a Texas Toothpick, which is giant battered jalapeno peppers, served with a creamy sauce as an appetizer, an order of calf fries,

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and perhaps an entree of a juicy tender filet mignon, cooked to perfection for dinner, ending with a large hot fudge brownie sundae for dessert!

‘Where am I?’ ‘I’m dining at the Rusty Spur Cafe in Freedom, Oklahoma!”

Every weekend, Cheyenne paid a three piece band called The Three Hombres to entertain the crowd. They meandered around the dinner tables strumming on acoustic guitars. They would sing any country-western song a visitor might request. Cheyenne especially enjoyed hearing their rendition of Those Oklahoma Hills. The talented trio was a big hit at the restaurant. Their music brought new life to the remote area.

A life-sized wooden Indian, with long grey braided hair, wearing a big black cowboy hat, western shirt, vest, Wranglers, and cowboy boots, sat on a stool at the bar. The customers laughed when he would occasionally cut a loud fart. Rowdy planted an electronic fart machine on the Indian chief. When customers sat next to him, Rowdy would press a button from behind the bar, causing him to let go of a loud blast of air. Each time the Indian would fart, unaware customers would routinely glance around the room trying to determine, who was so rude.

One regular came into the bar just to talk to the wooden Indian. He’d sit and drink his whiskey directing his conversation to the dummy, liking the

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fact, he never talked back. Cheyenne named him Uncle Louis. The customers loved him.

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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Vehicles were an issue from the first day Cheyenne and Rowdy became partners. Every time they discussed the condition of the ranch trucks, there would be an argument.

“There isn’t a soul around here who gives a crap about taking care of anything in this Godforsaken place. I can’t believe Trevor totaled the red dually, and you stuck up for him. That kid doesn’t impress me one iota. He’s worthless! I don’t understand why you sent him to Shattuck in the first place. You should have gotten up off your lazy ass and gone yourself? The guy’s a loser!” Cheyenne was out of breath, and angry again.

“Lighten up. Trevor’s not such a bad kid. He’s had some tough breaks.” Rowdy said defensively.

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“Bull shit, we’ve all had our tough breaks! He’s worthless and you know it!” She was fed up with having the same discussion each time Trevor screwed up.

Rowdy was red in the face. “What do you suggest we do now? Let’s put this crap behind us? We need a new truck to haul the bulls.” Rowdy rolled his eyes hoping she’d see things his way.

“I’ve never seen such a ruthless bunch of freeloaders in my life. Trevor wrecked the damned truck, tell him to buy you a new one,” Cheyenne was determined not to spend any more money.

“Right, where will Trevor get the money to buy a new one? Give me the keys to your truck I need to feed the cattle.” Rowdy glanced around the room looking for her truck keys.

“You’re not going to drive my truck. I’m sick and tired of you! You and your damned kids wreck everything in sight. This is total bull shit, and you know it!” Cheyenne felt defeat.

Rowdy refused to give up. Unashamed, he pleaded his case. Aware she’d collected the insurance money, he had no intentions of giving up until she agreed to buy another truck.

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“Come on, baby. We need it bad. Trust me! I’ll take better care of the next one. I won’t let my kids drive it anywhere. I promise!” Trying to convince her, he threw his hands into the air.

“What do you mean you promise? You give your kids any damned thing they want. That’s why we don’t have a truck. The last one was supposed to be for your use only. I never saw it! It was always gone. Shane and Trevor drove it more than you. I’m so tired of being taken advantage of.” She grabbed her keys from the desk, and put them in her pocket.

It was a useless argument. She was aware when Rowdy selfishly wanted anything he’d work her until he got it.

Cheyenne resented him for constantly taking advantage; yet she realized they were in a bind without a truck.

“You can afford it. Buy me a truck and I’ll take you to New York City,” he purred.

“What do you mean you’ll take me to New York City? You can’t afford to take me to Wal-Mart!” She couldn’t believe his undying persistence.

Finally giving in to his demands, Cheyenne ordered another truck. The Dodge diesel four-door dually, cost forty-seven thousand dollars. Rowdy never kept his promise; she’d doubted he would.

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Within weeks after the new truck arrived at the ranch, Rowdy let his daughter Sally drive it. She tore off the fender from the back right wheel well, absent-mindedly driving it through a gate. She hadn’t considered the truck was too wide to make it through. Within weeks, the new white Dodge truck looked like it belonged in a wrecking yard.

Though she'd warned Rowdy not to let his kids destroy the Dodge truck. He let them drive it anyway. She wanted to kill him the night they got the call. Shane was involved in a terrible accident. Rowdy answered the phone when it rang at midnight.

“Is he okay? When can I bail him out?” he asked. When Rowdy hung up the phone, Cheyenne went ballistic.

“Shane was in a wreck? What was he driving? You let him drive the Dodge, didn’t you? What about you're frigging promises, Rowdy? You told me your kids wouldn’t drive the damned truck. How bad is it?” she screamed, shaking her head in disbelief.

“It sounds like it’s a total loss. Shane’s lucky to be alive. He crossed over the center line, hit a car head-on. The driver of the other car is in serious condition.” Rowdy opened a beer and drank it down, hoping to calm his nerves.

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Cheyenne was speechless. She knew better than to say anymore until after she calmed down. She thought. I imagine there will be a lawsuit. I’ll be the one they’ll look to for payment. Thank God for insurance.

“Why in the hell would you let him drive my truck?” she asked angrily admonishing Rowdy one more time. They had it for less than six months and now it was totaled. She was sick to her stomach, feeling like it was the beginning of the end.

“I can promise you this I will not be buying you another truck! Never, ever again! I’m through! Trust me on that!” She threw her hands up in the air mimicking the way she’d seen Rowdy do it so many times over the years.

Seeing Rowdy walk out the door she heard him say, “I’ll drive Sally’s car. I’m going to Alva and bail him out!”

“That’s great because you’re damned well not going to drive mine. The bastard can rot in hell for all I care.” She slammed the door shut behind him.

Cheyenne had no luck with vehicles in Oklahoma. After Shane’s incident with the Dodge, she left town again. When she returned a week later, she pulled into the restaurant parking lot. Accidently leaving the Avalanche in gear, she parked it facing downhill toward the lodge. Hurrying into the restaurant, she saw Rowdy having lunch in the beer garden with his old friend Sam.

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“It’s good to be back. It seems like I’ve been gone for a month. Did you miss me?” she asked with a smile.

“Yeah, baby, I missed you. Welcome home.” He seemed rather distant.

She walked into the kitchen to say hello to her employees. When she returned to the beer garden, she heard Sam say, “Where in the hell is Cheyenne going so fast?”

“What are you talking about, Sam? I’m right here!”

Startled to see her standing there, Sam asked, “Well then, who’s driving your truck?”

Just as she looked out the window she saw the speeding truck crash into the pillars on the back porch of the lodge. The fast moving vehicle took out three log pillars before it came to a stop.

“You didn’t put it in park or it slipped out of gear.” Rowdy couldn’t believe she would have forgotten to put the car in gear.

“Damned if I know,” she yelled running down the hill to survey the damage.

She saw the back porch of the lodge could easily be repaired, but the Chevy Avalanche was another story. The truck damage was extensive. The next day, after taping up the busted front windshield with silver duct tape,

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Cheyenne drove it to Oklahoma City for repairs. After hearing the repairs would take thirty days, she rented a car, and returned to the lodge. She never forgave herself for failing to put the truck in gear. She thought. Another stupid accident, what else can go wrong? She learned later, she wasn’t the only one whose vehicle had hit the lodge.

“Don’t feel bad, Cheyenne. Kyle Ludwick’s pickup took out three pillars on the front porch one night. Bailey’s ex-husband pushed Greg’s BMW down the hill smack into the side of the lodge. He thought she was sleeping with Greg in number one.” LuAnn thought it was about time Cheyenne knew the truth.

“Thanks for your honesty, LuAnn. I know I can count on you for the truth.” Cheyenne didn’t know whether to be happy or sad learning she wasn’t the Lone Ranger.

The first few years she spent in Freedom, were mostly good. She felt like she could survive anything, knowing she had Rowdy’s love. However, things changed. As the years rolled by, the circumstances and events took their toll on Cheyenne. Early on, she'd wanted to share her experiences on the ranch with other women. It wasn’t her intention, however, to share the cowboy. She was naive thinking Rowdy would be true blue.

None of her efforts were worth the price she paid. The love, time and money she’d invested into a life in Freedom were for naught. She’d been

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played a fool. Rowdy was a ladies' man. He used his conniving charm every time he wanted something from her or other women.

The bar opened for business and the booze begun to flow. Rowdy’s drinking went from a few bottles of beer a day to an addiction to Crown Royal. His generous nature prevailed, and most of the time his freeloading buddies drank and ate for free alongside of him. Cheyenne became increasingly frustrated trying to collect the monies due her for the large volume of liquor and food Rowdy gave away. She'd watch in horror as he would line up free shots of liquor on the bar for himself and his friends. He’d buy dinner for customers rather than let them pay for their own. There was no stopping him. He was totally out of control, especially after drinking a dozen or more shots of whiskey.

“Jesus Christ, Rowdy, customers come in here with money in their damned pockets. Let them spend it. You don’t have to buy their steaks! You certainly don’t have to buy their drinks. We can’t continue to keep the doors open if you’re going to give away all of the profits. You’ve got to stop this unbelievable behavior!”

“This is my place too. If I want to buy someone a drink or dinner I will. Screw you, Cheyenne,” he slurred.

“No, screw you, Rowdy!” She wasn’t going to take it anymore.

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The cash register became Rowdy’s private ATM machine. Cheyenne instructed the help to hide the large bills so Rowdy couldn’t get his hands on them. He took so much cash out of the business it was a struggle for her to pay the bills.

“Keep your thieving hands out of the till. You have no conception of what it costs to keep the doors open. You can’t rely on the daily receipts to buy your gas and feed your kids. Change your ways cowboy. You’re thieving ways are driving me nuts!” She was angry again.

Ignoring her lecture, a few minutes later, she overheard him tell Shane to take his rodeo entry fee out of the till. She was livid, but there was nothing she could do about it.

Rowdy wasn’t the only thief in the family. Many times she’d see his stepson Trevor open the cash register and grab a handful of twenties. He’d sneer at her, daring her to stop him. She despised the sneaking little devil. He was a constant source of conflict between them. The cash he stole supported his illegal gambling. At least once a week she’d see Trevor pay his bookies with fistfuls of cash.

Her escape to Freedom wasn’t all she’d hoped it would be. She felt like she was living in hell. The lodge, the bar, the entire scene became unbearable. Although business was brisk, thanks to the thieves, there was never enough money to pay the bills. The hard work and stress took a heavy

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toll on her heart, and on her pocketbook. Her partnership with Rowdy became a nightmare. His steady drinking strongly affected their relationship. He walked around in a drunken stupor most days. Rowdy’s non-stop need for cash and booze was an eye-opener. She knew she couldn’t continue to support his bad habits. Cheyenne was living in a bottomless pit. Her finances were dwindling fast. She felt powerless, not understand how to stop the disaster.

While resting in the apartment at the lodge in anticipation of the long shift she expected to have at the bar that evening, the phone rang. She answered and nearly fell to the floor when the female caller blurted out, “I'm having an affair with Rowdy. I think he gave me a venereal disease. I spent the night with him in your bed. I ate your crab cakes, and I drank your wine!” the caller bragged. Cheyenne grew sick to her stomach hearing the unwelcome voice drone on. “We’ve been seeing each other for over a month now. He told me he loves me and that it’s over between you.”

Remaining calm, yet very angry, she responded vehemently, “You must have gotten your venereal disease from one of your other lovers! I’ve had sex with Rowdy twice a day for ten years! I don’t have a disease!”

Ignoring what she’d heard Cheyenne say, the voice jeered, “I think I’m pregnant with Rowdy’s baby! What do you think about that?”

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She took control of the conversation. “Honey, I have no idea who you are, but I'm going to tell you to get a life. If you think for one minute that ole Rowdy is going to give up his bread and butter you’d better think again. Stay away from my man. I’ve got too much money invested in him to give him to you. Why don't you Try keeping your pants on. Rowdy didn’t get you pregnant! He can’t have kids. Don’t call me again. I don’t have time to listen to your bull shit. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Having heard enough, without giving the caller a chance to respond, she hung up the phone. Picking the phone up again without delay, she called Rowdy on his cell phone. When he answered, she heard the tractor purring in the background.

“Hello, baby, what’s up?”

“Don’t call me baby, you son-of-a-bitch, get over here right now!” Cheyenne hissed, and slammed the receiver down with a bang.

Tears flowed down her face. She thought. The stupid bastard! How dare he cheat on me? What in the hell was he thinking? I’m paying his God damned bills, and he screws another woman in my bed! What’s wrong with this picture?

Coming through the front door ten minutes later, Rowdy cringed when he saw the look on her face.

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“You shit ass! Did you think for one minute you’d get away with it? Don’t you dare use being drunk as an excuse; you’re drunk all the time lately! What in the hell, were you thinking, Rowdy? Why would you jeopardize everything we’ve worked so hard for? Was your roll in the hay with the bitch really worth it?” Cheyenne trembled uncontrollably, unable to believe her misfortune.

“What are you talking about woman? Who called you? I don’t know what you’re talking about? What bitch?” he asked. Trembling he walked to the refrigerator and took out a beer.

“You know damned well what I’m talking about! The bitch says she’s pregnant! You gave her herpes. Admit it Rowdy, you’ve had sex with a slut in my bed. How could you?” Cheyenne blew her nose.

“I was lonely. You were gone. She came knocking. I let her in. Why not? Men need sex. That’s all it was. She meant absolutely nothing to me,” he admitted with his head hung low. Walking toward the apartment door, he stopped momentarily to look her in the eye. Rowdy had nothing more to say.

“Get the hell out of my sight you slime ball. I don’t want to see your cheating ass ever again. I’m finished. Do you understand me?” Cheyenne sobbed, crying like a baby. She realized at that moment, it was the beginning of the end. The trust was gone, the love shattered, the relationship in ruins.

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Hearing him start his truck and drive away, she thought. The worthless bastard isn’t worth it. Screw him!

Washing her face, she silently vowed to wash that man out of her life. Putting on fresh makeup, she got ready for work. Her mind went crazy trying to come up with ideas on how to move on.

Walking into the bar later that evening, with resolve, she held her head high. Seeing a fat, frumpy young woman sitting alone at a corner table, she suddenly sensed she was looking at the caller. The homely woman sat eating greasy onion rings and sucking on a Margarita. She glared at Cheyenne across the room. Going behind the bar, Cheyenne shot down a shot of Silver Patron. The tequila gave her courage to face the fat bitch. Stomping across the room, she angrily approached her table.

“What in the hell are you doing in my restaurant, bitch? You’re not welcome here. Stay away from Rowdy, and stay the hell out of my bed! Read the sign above the bar, it says bitches not allowed. You’re a bitch. I want you out of here now!” Cheyenne yelled out loud. The Tequila gave her courage.

Smiling coyly, when she finished what she had to say, she turned and walked away. Seeing the woman's eyes fill with tears, it disgusted Cheyenne to see her cry. She thought. I hope I hurt you as much as you’ve

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hurt me. Cry baby cry! Quickly getting up from the table, the woman ran from the bar.

“The slut slept with Rowdy in my bed. He obviously has no sense and no taste. Run you fat, ugly pig!” Cheyenne screamed shaking angrily realizing how foolish she must sound.

That was the end of one of Rowdy’s affairs. She never saw the woman again. Wondering if Rowdy continued to have sex with her when she wasn’t around, she imagined he probably had. Cheyenne never asked. She thought Men! Why did God give them two brains?

She finally opened her eyes to what was going on around her. Cheyenne become hardened and mean. She’d found out the hard way cowboys could be ruthless. She didn’t trust any of them. There was no getting around it. She believed every cowboy in Freedom was full of bull shit, especially Rowdy Harrison. It didn’t bother him if a woman were short, fat, tall or skinny, pretty or ugly. None of that mattered. If he was horny or just plain drunk, he wasn’t choosey who he took to bed. Rowdy didn’t appear to worry about the consequences of his pitiless actions.

Cheyenne called her daughter Mary Louise for support. She felt lonely and homesick knowing Rowdy was a piece of shit.

“Show me a cowboy and I’ll show you a cheat. They’ll sleep with anything that looks at them cross-eyed. I can’t believe Rowdy would have an

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interest in the fat scumbag. He took her to my bed no less. He admitted everything. I doubt I’ll ever get over it,” Cheyenne was thankful for her daughter’s loving support.

“Get out of there. We love you Mum! We miss you! Please just come home,” Mary Louise was tired hearing her mother rant and rave.

Cheyenne kicked herself for not being aware. Rowdy loved all women.

“Growing up, I’d daydream one day a busload of beautiful women would come to Freedom.” Rowdy enjoyed sharing his thoughts with her.

Unfortunately, she had unknowingly made Rowdy’s daydreams come true. Beautiful women flocked to the lodge. In Cheyenne’s absence, her cowboy wined and dined them. He paid the tab with money from the till. He’d flirt and tease, and lavish on the women guests the same attention he’d once given only to Cheyenne. What really took the cake, in her mind, was he would take them to her bed when she wasn’t around.

Rowdy went from being a broke, lonely cowboy to a successful partner in the lodge and bucking bull business. His closet, bare when Cheyenne first met him, was now full of new clothes. Thanks to her generosity. She bought him new shirts, expensive boots, cowboy hats, and a closet full of new Wranglers. With an abundance of cash from the register available, to support his bad habits, women, who hadn’t before given Rowdy the time of day, all

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of a sudden found him attractive. His actions led them to believe he was wealthy and available.

Stacey, a park ranger in her late twenties, rented a room at the lodge a few nights a month. The woman was a young hussy-looking dame. She had an eye out for any guy who might give her a sideways glance. Cheyenne wasn’t fond of her from the get-go.

Setting her sights on Rowdy, Stacey planned on one day owning Cedar Creek Ranch. She played with Rowdy’s mind and she entertained his penis. They slept together in Cheyenne’s bed when she was out of town. Stacey batted her eyes at Rowdy, pretending to be his new best friend. The cagey ranger would call Rowdy on his cell phone and at the restaurant two or three times a day. Having no idea Stacey was sleeping with her man Cheyenne became suspicious of the phone calls.

Stacey boldly approached, with her meek husband in tow, during rodeo weekend at the Old Cow Hand Reunion Dinner.

“Do you have my rodeo tickets, Rowdy?” she purred running suggestive hands up and down his arms.

Reaching into his shirt pocket, he handed her two tickets. Cheyenne couldn’t understand why he would have Stacey’s rodeo tickets. She was suddenly aware that Rowdy was involved with a married woman.

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“What in the hell are you doing, Rowdy? Do you realize what a fool you are? Jesus Christ, you’re banging the frigging’ park ranger!” Cheyenne realized what an idiot Rowdy truly was.

“We’re just friends.” He ignored Cheyenne’s remarks.

For the next several days, every time Rowdy got a call on his cell phone when Cheyenne was nearby, he’d walk away to listen and/or check to see who was calling and ignore the call. Her intuition told her it was Stacey. When he listened to his messages one day Cheyenne heard a female voice. When she asked who it was Rowdy claimed it was his daughter calling to say hello.

“You’re full of shit, Rowdy. That wasn’t Sally! Who was it?” Cheyenne demanded to know. She told him she was sick of his lies.

“Damn it, Cheyenne, trust me. It was Sally.” He was growing weary of her suspicious mind.

That evening when Rowdy passed out in the recliner, Cheyenne picked up his cell phone and snuck into the office. Closing the door behind her, she turned on the phone and reviewed his callers. She wasn’t surprised to see several calls from Stacey’s cell phone listed on the screen. Making a note of her number, Cheyenne quietly returned the phone to where she’d found it. She was happy to see Rowdy was still sleeping soundly. Feeling relieved

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that she had the evidence she sought, Cheyenne slept well that night. She confronted Rowdy early the next morning.

“I checked your phone messages last night. There must be a dozen calls from Stacey. What does she want from you?” She was determined to get to the bottom of things.

“Okay, Cheyenne. So now you know. Yes, it’s Stacey. We’re having an affair.” Rowdy showed no shame.

“When in the hell is this nightmare ever going to end? You’re an idiot, Rowdy. I despise the ground you walk on!” Cheyenne screamed. She felt her entire body tremble unable to cope with the reality that she’d fallen in love with another bum.

After searching the internet to locate the park ranger’s home number, she called her husband. Holding nothing back, she let him know about his unfaithful wife and the fact that she was having an affair with Rowdy.

“Stacey says they’re just friends.” He wasn’t aware anything was going on between them.

“That’s not what Rowdy says. He tells me they are having sex. Stacey offered it up and he took it.” Cheyenne wanted everyone involved to feel the pain.

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“You should know, while Rowdy may appear to be wealthy, the truth is, he doesn’t own shit! Your precious wife is a gold digger. Tell her to take her frigging’ shovel to another mine!” Cheyenne was determined Stacey’s husband should know all the details. He didn’t seem at all surprised to get the call.

“Believe me, Stacey is no prize!” He knew what Cheyenne was saying was the truth. After all she’d done it many times before. After a while, nothing surprised him. Cheyenne was convinced he was right. Stacey was no prize. It gave her some satisfaction hearing it come directly from her husband. She thought. The bitch went after Rowdy like a dog in heat, much like Tanya pursued Ryan! I've seen her kind before.

She believed Rowdy and Ryan were two of a kind. They were both sociopaths who gave little thought to how their choices in life hurt other people. Stacey had evidently felt confident she could have what Cheyenne had by turning on her deceitful charm. Having been down that route before, Cheyenne was determined not to allow her to get away with it. Hanging up the phone, she immediately dialed Stacey’s cell. She wasn’t surprised when Stacey answered when she saw the call was coming from the lodge.

Stacey answered, “Hello baby!”

“Hello, Stacey. I’m sorry, it’s not who you think it is. It’s Cheyenne. I just got off the phone with your husband. He didn’t seem surprised to hear

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you’re having an affair with Rowdy. You obviously think he’s a rich bastard. Let me tell you right now honey, it’s not true. This is my lodge, my land, and my money. The restaurant was bought and paid for with my cash. I’ve seen your kind before. You can take your gold-digging ass elsewhere. Don’t think for a minute Rowdy will provide you with a better life. I'm here to say that simply won’t happen!” Cheyenne fumed, not holding back.

Stacey was quiet as she listened to Cheyenne rant and rave. She had little to say other than, “I believe you. I’m sorry.”

Cheyenne slammed down the receiver satisfied she’d made her point. She’d told the park ranger the truth. The affair ended as fast as it had begun. The phone calls stopped. Cheyenne never saw or heard from Stacey again. She quit staying at the lodge, and after moping around for a few days, Rowdy pulled it together. They got back into their normal routine of life before Stacey.

“I knew nothing would ever come of it. It was just an affair. I didn’t take it seriously. I was in it for the sex I wasn’t in love with her. She was thirty years old, young enough to be my daughter. What could she have seen in a broke old man?” Rowdy knew the affair was over.

Cheyenne didn't respond for a moment. She thought. Perhaps you do finally get it cowboy. This ole gal is fed up with your cheating ass. You’re a drunkard and a broken down old man!

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“Sure it’s over. What did you think would ever come of it. She saw it was my money feeding this place, not yours. Grow up, Rowdy. Use your damned brain! Are you really that stupid?” Cheyenne smirked.

Things are not necessarily rational when you begin your day with a beer in the shower. Stacey may have looked good through his bloodshot eyes. Cheyenne never understood the attraction. She thought. If he doesn't feel like a fool, he should.

Tired of all of the bull shit, she knew how hard it would be to walk away from the loser she loved. Realizing he’d never change, she knew the day would come when she would leave. It was the only way.

Listening to the words of the song What Will You Do with a Cowboy as it played on the bar radio. She thought. How true! Unfortunately, Rowdy hadn’t saddled up and rode away. He’d screwed anything that walked; and he’d used and abused her. Yet she imagined he’d always come back with his tail tucked between his legs. If he lost her, it would be the end of his free ride.

Just like her marriage to Ryan, in the blink of an eye the love was gone. She'd created another monster. Money, love and liquor changed Rowdy. She wondered how she could have ever loved the man she'd recently begun to despise. Things continued to escalate out of control. Cheyenne saw no end to

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the hell she'd created. She prayed to her Heavenly Father to take her away from Freedom.

Wondering what to do and knowing she couldn’t take any more, somehow it didn’t surprise her when Hollywood called. Cheyenne was never one to pass up a good thing. When the producer indicated they were hoping to do a story about life on an Oklahoma guest ranch, she listened.

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CHAPTER NINETEEN

There was never a dull moment at the lodge. Cheyenne was enjoying the peace and quiet of the apartment, when on a cold, blustery evening the telephone rang, startling her back to reality.

She picked it up thinking someone was calling to make a room reservation.

“Good Evening, Cedar Creek Ranch,” she answered in a friendly tone.

“Hello, this is David Miller. I’m a producer with National Studios in Burbank, California. I’d like to speak to Cheyenne, is she in?” He sounded like he was a million miles away

“This is Cheyenne Stevens. How can I help you?”

The producer explained the television studio was looking for a family who owned a western guest ranch who might be interested in participating in a reality television show.

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“That’s us! You’ve found your family! We’d be perfect for the show. My partner Rowdy is a real cowboy and he and his kids have lived on a ranch all of their lives. My daughters have been raised in the city. They live in Washington State. I’ve built my lodge from the ground up. It is a beautiful spot. We would be very interested in doing your realty TV show.” Cheyenne was never one to hesitate when she sensed a good thing.

“It sounds like you have the perfect family. If you’re truly interested I’ll fax you the forms to fill out. Get them back to me as soon as possible,” the producer quizzed.

“Yes, we’re definitely interested. I promise to get right on it! Fax me everything and I’ll take a look at your offer.” When the call ended Cheyenne couldn’t contain her enthusiasm. She immediately called Rowdy, who was working in the bar. She began talking so fast he couldn’t understand what she was saying.

“Slow down! What television show? What’s going on?” he asked sounding confused.

“We’ll talk about it later. I’ve got paperwork to fill out!” She heard the fax ring in the background.

At least thirty pages of documents came over the fax. Cheyenne read the documents and filled them out. She hastily put together a file for National Studios which included stories written about her and the lodge, pictures of

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her and Rowdy, and their families. By ten o’clock that evening, before Rowdy made it home from the bar, Cheyenne had signed the documents and faxed them back to National. She imagined they were all going to be movie stars.

The opportunity was a sign from heaven. She believed it may be what they needed to bring her and Rowdy closer again. She knew a national television show would certainly bring worldwide attention to her lodge. Cheyenne pictured Cedar Creek Ranch and the Rusty Spur Café taking reservations from clients all over the world. A reality TV show would allow her to tell their crazy love story. The exposure would potentially bring thousands of visitors to Freedom.

When Rowdy came in from the bar later that evening, Cheyenne enthusiastically shared the story with him. It didn't take long for him to become excited. They opened a bottle of red wine and toasted the possibilities. They had a difficult time sleeping that night as different ideas raced through their minds. They lay awake, most of the night, talking and remembering the stories, the good times, the bad times and the great memories they planned on sharing with National Studios.

Cheyenne was cautious. She thought. Beware of wolves' in sheep's clothing, as she saw the large television crew ascend upon the ranch. They came with Beverly Hills attitudes and Hollywood ideas. Within a few weeks, she realized they were there with deception in their hearts. The producer’s

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sole motive was the money he intended to generate for his investors when the show was a success. The directors liked what they saw. The film crew found the story and situation to be unique and interesting.

Whatever the production company required the players to do or say was all for the benefit of reality television. Very little thought was given to the outcome and effect everything would ultimately have on the lives of the players.

Despite it all, Rowdy and Cheyenne got caught up in the excitement, and the family and friends they invited to participate in the show were ready, willing and eager to give Hollywood a great show.

The plot would portray Cheyenne as a wealthy owner of a dude ranch. She agreed to deed the ownership of her thirty-five hundred acre ranch to a family member, or friend who would prevail by winning the studio’s competitions.

The television crew devised several different games and contests, requiring the players to participate. They intended to pit Cheyenne’s friends and her city daughters, against Rowdy, his friends, and cowboy kids. The events were designed to require the players have the skills to enable them to survive both in the country and in the city. In the end, there could only be one winner, and the winner would be the sole heir to Cheyenne’s large ranch.

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The players kept a dialog going on behind the scenes. They sometimes included Cheyenne in their discussions. She didn't feel threatened by the idea that only one player could win the ranch. She believed if the winner were to be one of her own daughters, they would do the right thing by deeding it back to her. Tammy and Mary Louise were anxious to help out by appearing in the show.

Cheyenne’s greatest fear was the possibility of Trevor winning the ranch. She believed the selfish bastard share it with anyone. Behind the scenes, Cheyenne encouraged the other players to be certain to eliminate Trevor in the first competition. Rowdy promised Cheyenne if he were to win the ranch, he would deed it back to her.

The producers offered the players several gift incentives and cash prizes for their participation. They dangled large cash prizes and new cars in front of the cast to keep them interested and involved.

The ownership of the ranch was to pass on to the winner at the time of Cheyenne’s death. She designated the unknown winner as heir to the land in a Will. She sometimes questioned if the winner might consider killing her for the bounty.

Cheyenne’s willingness to participate was aimed mainly at the vast television exposure the reality show would bring to her business and to the community. She had no other motives. There was no satisfaction in seeing

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her family, friends, Rowdy, the kids and the hired hands squabble over her possessions. She believed the premise of the show was good, and she prayed the show would be a success. After all, she knew all of the players, most of whom she genuinely cared for. She felt the show would open doors for some of them. It would potentially expose the deserving ones to opportunities they may not otherwise ever know.

The show staff interviewed the potential players. They encouraged them to get excited, and tried to pit each of them against one another. The directors were insistent the players express truthful opinions about Cheyenne. They wanted to hear the worst and the best stories the players could come up with. They had a difficult time finding players who expressed any resentment toward Cheyenne, except for Trevor. The producers become a little frustrated with the process. They wanted a bitter battle. Cheyenne was concerned, she wondered if National Broadcasting had picked the wrong family for the reality television show.

Her daughters were brought up to be honest and forthright. They weren’t comfortable being cutthroat and conniving like the crew insisted. Trevor fit the mold! All the other players struggled with the deception.

All the players involved were psychologically evaluated. The studio wanted to be aware of any whackos in the bunch. Cheyenne asked Jennifer to participate, and she agreed. Prior to the actual taping, the studio flew them

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to Beverly Hills. While Cheyenne shopped, Jennifer underwent extensive psychological testing, and questioning.

National Studios flew them to the Burbank studios, where they met with the main producer, Mike Kline. He was a character. Despite the rain pouring down outside, she was amused to see that he wore Bermuda shorts and flip flops. She was impressed with his apparent nonchalance as he sat with his bare feet propped up on the large mahogany desk, discussing the details of the upcoming production. Moments after they were introduced and were seated in his office, the producer offered them their choice of a cold beer or a drink from a well-stocked bar.

The television crew interviewed and filmed them separately. They appeared excited about the contrast in the couple's lives. They liked the idea that, despite their differences, they’d created a satisfying life together. After the interview, there was no doubt in the minds of the production staff they’d chosen the right family.

Months went by. Endless tapings and interviews were completed. Filming by airplane and on horseback was done over every corner of the ranch. In the lengthy filming process, some players eliminated themselves and others were excluded by the staff. The casting crew spent hours grooming Cheyenne, Rowdy, and their family and friends to star in the television show.

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While filming on the ranch one day, the cameraman stood in front of her instructing her every move.

“Walk up the hill slowly toward me,” the producer said enjoying what was going on in the background.

Giving her a script to recite, he told the cameraman to keep filming. Concentrating on following directions, Cheyenne climbed the hill. Just as she reached the top, and had finished her lines, a large herd of thundering, wild, bucking horses ran over the hill. Galloping at a dead run, they came within inches of running her over. The director loved the shot. As far as Cheyenne was concerned, the horses were too close for comfort, but it made for a great television. The cameras continued to roll.

“How dare you! That was dangerous, and totally out of line! One of us, probably me, could have been killed!” Cheyenne shuddered in anger.

Another day while filming down on the ranch, the director instructed her to wander through a herd of long-horned steers.

Aware a few steers in the herd were known to charge if someone got too close, she followed with fingers crossed, slowly mingling amongst the long horns. Minutes after she’d made it safely back to the truck, she saw the steers take off in a dead run across the prairie grass. Cheyenne felt fortunate. She hadn’t been trampled. She was relieved, no one was hurt.

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The reality show was scheduled for a seven-week series on a major network. In July, the producers indicated the show would finalize their filming on a set in Los Angeles the following month. The players expended large amounts of money out of their own pockets preparing for the trip to Los Angeles. A few arranged to take time off work. Some quit their jobs to accommodate the show. Rowdy secretly took karate lessons, hoping to be in top shape for the competition.

Unfortunately, the reality show was canceled eight months later. The decision to abandon the project had nothing to do with the desires, abilities or efforts of the players.

“Cheyenne, this is Scott. You need to sit down for this one. I don’t know how to say this, but the show has been scratched. The network called. They are going to cut back on reality television. Call the players and let them know it’s off. The network pulled the plug! We had no idea this was going to happen. We’ve spent a ton of money to get it where it is today. National has decided not to produce any more reality TV. I'm truly sorry!” Scott abruptly hung up the phone leaving Cheyenne feeling alone and devastated.

National’s decision to stop the production left Cheyenne and the rest of the cast bitterly disappointed and angry. When the National Enquirer called, she told the reporter her side of the story.

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“Hollywood really messed with our lives. We didn’t ask to be on TV. They came to us. They turned our world upside down. For the past eight months if the crew said jump, the cast jumped. We’ve catered to their every whim,” Cheyenne was stunned at the bad news, she cried huge tears. She couldn’t believe the studio would leave it up to her to call the cast and let them know the show had been cancelled. When she called them she found many of the players were glad to hear the show wouldn’t go on. They hadn’t been comfortable with the cut throat premise. Trevor was upset. He had planned on winning the ranch, one way or another.

Cheyenne spent the next several weeks negotiating a settlement with National Studios. They ultimately paid her a handsome figure for her time and efforts. The players received a small cash award to cover their expenses and time. Unhappy with the situation, they had no choice but to take the settlement, and put the show behind them. They all were disappointed the show was cancelled. They felt like the studio had taken advantage of them. Cheyenne resented Hollywood for being so brutal.

The years went by and when Cheyenne saw how networks made fools of people who starred on reality television shows, she counted her blessings. She was happy they hadn’t put themselves out there for public scrutiny and humiliation. She was ecstatic that, Trevor didn't win the ranch!

Cheyenne learned the hard way one man’s reality could easily become another man’s hell. The show, in some ways, brought her and Rowdy back

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together. It was the two of them against Hollywood. The close bond they had developed over the years helped them to survive the defeat they felt when the show was canceled.

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CHAPTER TWENTY

Life after reality television soon returned to normal on the ranch. Everyone went back to their daily routines and go on with their lives. Cheyenne returned to focusing on marketing her business, and soon saw the customers begin to return. She had a long way to go before things were back to normal after reality TV. Cheyenne refused to give up. Working harder than ever, she began to see the results of her labor. The lodge business boomed. She was pleased when several of her bulls were chosen to perform at the National Finals Rodeo in Vegas in December.

They relaxed in the apartment one evening, feeling comfortable together; and somewhat content with their life again.

“I plan on taking the kids to the finals this year. Shane and Sally have never been to Las Vegas. They want Trevor to go along.” Waiting for her reaction, Rowdy drank down another bottle of Budweiser.

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“Bull shit! We aren’t taking those ungrateful kids anywhere. I’ve been working my ass off to the pay the bills. We can’t afford to take your bastard kids to Las Vegas! Forget about it!” She exploded.

Rowdy had been drinking all day. She saw fire in his eyes as he came unglued.

“Screw you, Cheyenne! You can go to hell! My kids are not bastards. They’re going to Las Vegas!”

The argument was different than others they had before. Rowdy was insanely drunk and out of control. Slamming open the apartment door, he stomped away. Within a few minutes her telephone rang and heard Rowdy carry on with his drunken tirade.

“I’ve had it with you! You crazy bitch! You'd better watch your back! I’ll put rattlesnakes in your truck, and in your bed! I’ll kill you and skin your freaking body. I’ll let the hounds eat the bones! No one will ever know what happened to you! Shane will help me do it! Watch your God damned back woman! My kids are not bastards!”

Seeing his true colors, she realized Rowdy was a calloused, cruel individual. Cheyenne was afraid. He was crazy enough to think he could get away with killing her. In fact, she didn’t doubt it for one minute. He’d bragged to her before about being a hit man in Texas. The man was a raving maniac. Cheyenne barred the doors and locked the windows of the

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apartment. Searching through the drawer of the night stand, she loaded her gun. The telephone rang and rang. When she answered she’d hear Rowdy repeat in ugly detail, the evil things he planned to do to her.

She called her attorney.

“Jesus, Cheyenne get out of there now! Don’t just drive twenty miles, drive a hundred. The guy is nuts and he is probably intending to kill you! Open your eyes! Get going! Run, don’t walk!”

“I’m leaving, but first I'm going to go to the Woodward County sheriff’s office and report deranged bastard!” She agreed with what Barry was saying.

“Good idea! Leave now!” Barry worried for her safety.

Thanking him for the advice, she hung up the phone and ran for her truck. Driving like a bat out of hell, she went directly to the sheriff’s office. As she drove, her phone continued to ring off the hook. It was Rowdy calling, and she refused to answer it. She was done listening to his threats. She was afraid for her life. Her cell phone beeped several times, indicating he was leaving messages.

Cheyenne thought. The stupid fool isn’t smart enough not to leave messages. Great! He is giving me the ammunition I need to throw his ass in jail! Cheyenne drove fast, and she arrived in Woodward in less than twenty minutes.

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She drove straight to the sheriff’s office and gave them a written statement. The officer on duty listened on her cell phone to Rowdy’s messages.

“Is this the Rowdy Harrison who lives in Freedom? I'm aware of him. We asked him to leave town a few years back because of threats he made toward his ex-wife. He has a drinking problem, doesn’t he?” the officer asked.

“Yes, it’s him. He definitely has a drinking problem. He frightens me! Listen to his messages. I don’t know what he is capable of doing. He scares the hell out of me!”

The deputy took the report and advised her not to return to the lodge.

“Get a room here in town. Let Rowdy sleep off his drunk and we’ll talk to him the first thing in the morning.”

Checking into a room at the Holiday Inn in Woodward, she had a restless night. She realized she was safe in the motel room, but she couldn’t fall asleep. At seven o’clock the next morning, she dressed and headed back to the lodge. Although she worried what Rowdy would do next, she had no choice but to take care of her business in Freedom.

Driving out of Woodward, she called the sheriff’s office to confirm they would contact Rowdy.

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“A deputy is on the way. He should be there in about twenty minutes.” The clerk knew Rowdy Harrison. She’d seen assault reports from his last wife. She shook her head wondering what a woman like Cheyenne saw in the heartless cowboy.

Her mind raced as she drove toward Freedom. The situation was totally out of control. The love she once had for the cowboy was gone. He’d threatened her life, and she was afraid he would follow through with his threats.

Rowdy’s family didn’t realize the extent of his drinking. Cheyenne spent her days and nights with him for the many years; she was aware he was an alcoholic. She could no longer put up with his drinking or his actions when he was drunk. Turning onto a dirt road, she shut down the car engine. She was beside herself, trying to figure out what to do. Considering her few options, she decided to call Rowdy’s older sister, Jody, to ask how she thought she should handle the situation. Jody answered on the first ring.

“Good morning Jody, I thought maybe you would be up early. Are you on your way to the gym?” Cheyenne asked, already sorry she’d called. Rowdy’s older sister was not one of her favorite people.

“Yes, I was just walking out the door. What’s up?” Jody sounded startled by the early morning call.

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Cheyenne hesitated. She didn’t like involving any of Rowdy’s family in their private affairs.

“Your brother is an alcoholic. His drinking is totally out of control. He needs family intervention. You need to get him in treatment,” she blurted out.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. If my brother needed my help, he’d come to me,” Jody replied, sounding cold and uncaring.

Tears welled up in Cheyenne’s eyes, again. She knew how Rowdy’s sister would be respond before she called. His sisters had always spoiled him rotten. In part, they were responsible for the loser he turned out to be.

“I’m sorry to bother you. I have nowhere else to turn I know you have a lot on your own plate. I thought you’d want to know, Rowdy is drinking way too much. He starts with beer in the morning and then drinks all day long. He’s into the vodka by four o’clock in the afternoon, and ends his day with wine before bed. I was foolish to think you’d care!” Cheyenne was upset to learn there would be no help coming from Rowdy’s family. She promptly ended the call. Jody’s response hadn’t totally surprised her. The family had been ignoring Rowdy’s drinking problem for years.

Hanging up the phone, feeling alone and hopeless, she cried out loud. Wiping tears from her eyes, she started the truck, and pulled back out onto

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the highway. She thought. You’ve got a serious problem, cowboy. I can’t help you with it. If your family doesn’t care, why should I?

When Cheyenne reached the lodge, she sat in the car waiting for the deputy to arrive. Seeing Rowdy drive into the restaurant parking lot made her nervous. Bolting from his truck he marched angrily toward her.

“The bulls are out! Did you let them out of the arena?” Rowdy looked remorseful, and hung over.

Cheyenne thought, Christ, the crazy fool threatened to kill me last night. Why would I let the bulls out? I’m dealing with an idiot. Seeing the patrol car drive up, she felt safe for the moment.

“Are you Rowdy Harrison? Get in the car. I want to talk to you.” The officer motioned for him to get in now.

“Yes sir. I understand. If it’s about last night, I was drunk. I know it’s no excuse. But I was mad. She called my kids bastards. I went into a rage and said some awful things. I’m sorry. I would never do anything to hurt her. I love that woman!” Rowdy reluctantly got into the back seat of the patrol car.

Cheyenne was nervous seeing the deputy detain Rowdy for several minutes. Finally seeing him get out of the car, stroll over to his truck, and drive away, she thought. The smooth talker! He talked himself out of trouble

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again. What am I supposed to do now? They should have put him in jail! She saw the deputy get out of his car and approach.

“He says he’s sorry. I know it was an ugly fight, but Rowdy claimed he didn’t mean for it to get so out of hand. I told him to stay away from you for the rest of the day. If you want to stop him from coming around here you’ll need to come to the office and file a restraining order. I need your signature on the report.” The deputy handed her a clipboard and pointed where to sign.

“I just want it to be over. I can’t believe it happened. I’ve never before seen that side of him. Thanks for coming out. I’ll think about the restraining order.” Cheyenne had no choice but to sign the disturbing report.

Minutes after he drove away, her phone rang. She wasn’t surprised to see it was Rowdy.

“I'm so sorry. You know I’d never hurt you. Forgive me! I’m not even sure what happened. Please, Cheyenne! I feel terrible.” Rowdy’s voice trembled. He sounded emotional.

“I’m sure you do. You said some awful things, Rowdy. It will be hard for me to forgive you this time. You were a crazy man. You scared me to death. We’ve never fought like that. I just want to be alone. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Feeling sick to her stomach, she hung up the phone.

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She spent the rest of the day figuring out what to do. It was a terrible mess she’d gotten herself into. It was up to her to find a way to get out of it. Seeing the sun go down, she felt sad and alone. Knowing it would be tough to keep going in Freedom without his support, she decided to accept his apology for now, and work on a plan to leave him for good.

“Hello, Rowdy. We’ve got to make things work between us. Tomorrow is another day. Let’s pretend none of this happened. I’m sorry for what I said. Let’s put this behind us and move forward.” Cheyenne felt like a fool.

Rowdy agreed and they hung up, both feeling uncertain of what the future would bring. She wished it had all been a dream. Unfortunately, it was all too real. She thought. I'll never make the mistake of calling him or his kid's bastards again.

She no longer knew the man she’d once been head over heels in love with. It startled her when she realized, although they were falling apart Rowdy was her only friend in Freedom. The thought made her cry. There was no one to turn to. The telephone call to Jody confirmed his family didn’t want to be involved. Defeat flooded her mind again. The reality was she would need his continued support, if she were ever going to get out of Freedom.

She wished it had all been a dream. Unfortunately, it was all too real. She thought. I'll never make the mistake of calling him or his kid's bastards

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again. Cheyenne managed again to put their differences behind her. Their ugly disagreement was history. Neither of them ever brought it up again.

It didn’t surprise her when Rowdy used his credit cards to take his kids to the National Finals Rodeo. He invited Cheyenne to go along. She went and was surprised, they had a good time. The trip helped renew their feelings for each other, temporarily healing the wounds between them. When they returned to Freedom, Cheyenne turned her thoughts away from rodeo and reality television. She began to focus once again on selling out and moving forward.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

By early spring, Cheyenne was hopeful she’d found a way way out of Freedom. Listing the lodge for sale on eBay, she received an offer from Larry Marciano, a fast talker from Las Vegas. Larry claimed to be a retired Los Angeles cop looking for a site to operate a wilderness type retreat for firemen and policemen from around the country.

He was very interested in owning the lodge. His original offer required her to give him the deed to the property without receiving any cash down. Reading it over, she instantly sensed, she was dealing with a crook. Cheyenne refused the offer. Wanting to confirm she’d done the right thing she faxed a copy to Barry for review. He called her back minutes later.

“I understand you want out of there, but don’t take this offer, Cheyenne. You’re smarter than that. Tell him no. Once Marciano gets a deed, he’ll take out a second, and file a lien. I’ve seen his kind before. The guy wants something for nothing. Forget it! The guy’s a crook. Something else will surely come along,” Barry urged, hoping she’d use her head.

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“Thanks for your advice, that’s what I thought. I’ll let him know he needs to come up with a more reasonable offer,” Cheyenne was thankful to have a friend like Barry. She trusted him to always look after her best interests.

After turning down the initial offer, she negotiated for several weeks attempting to reach a mutual agreement. As time passed, she became even more desperate. She was close, yet so far away. Although seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, she wasn’t willing to give the lodge away for nothing. She intended to hang on until she got a fair return on her investment.

Seeing Larry had illusions of grandeur, it was hard for her not to get caught up in his scam. Cheyenne was between a rock and a hard place. She wanted out, and Larry knew he was the only game in town. Every day was a different idea. He claimed to have the backing of a black pastor and his large congregation in Los Angeles. He planned to take the business public on the New York Stock Exchange, and vowed in no time, people would invest millions of dollars in his idea.

Listening day in and day out, to the ridiculous predictions, Cheyenne’s resolve wore thin. Weighing all of her options, which were nil to none, in August 2005, she accepted the precarious offer. She thought. Desperate people do desperate things! I'm desperate!

Without considering Barry’s legal advice, Cheyenne allowed the Vegas crook to take over the operation of the lodge with no money down. The

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agreement provided for a payment to her of a million dollars within nine months. She would receive monthly payments of twenty-five thousand and the remaining balance due in full on May 1, 2006.

Although dealing with the buyer made her nervous, she could live with the terms, knowing in a few short months, she would be free to get on with her life. Without delay when the ink was dry on the agreement, Cheyenne turned the operation over to him. Within weeks she knew she’d made a terrible mistake, seeing him run the business into the ground.

Larry failed to follow through with his promises, no money came rolling in. The people in Freedom didn’t trust him. Running him down behind his back, they laughed at his crazy ideas. Rowdy and his cowboy friends made cruel jokes about his black motorcycle boots and kinky permed hair. Larry ate her food, drank her Scotch, and stayed rent-free at the lodge for the next several months.

Leaving Freedom late one Friday afternoon she planned to drive to Austin to visit a friend. She’d worked nonstop for several months trying to help Larry turn the business around. She was worn out. When Mary Anne called to invite her to Austin for the weekend, she'd gladly accepted. After getting a late start that day, she drove as far as Oklahoma City, intending to continue on the next morning.

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Her cell phone rang at seven a.m., and she assumed it was Rowdy, giving her a wake-up call. Cheyenne answered sleepily. Immediately sensing the urgency in his voice, she knew something had gone terribly wrong.

“The Rusty Spur is on fire! The Freedom fire department is already there. I don’t know all the details. I'm on my way! I’ll call you when I get to the restaurant. You need to turn around and come home!” Rowdy was upset, sensing his free ride was fast coming to an end.

Hearing the news, Cheyenne was overcome with sadness. She felt like she'd been run over by a cattle truck. She thought. How much more can I take! It doesn't get any worse than this.

“I’m on my way. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Call me when you know more. Oh my God, Rowdy, what’s next?” A river of tears boiled up inside, and streamed down her face.

Hanging up the phone, she sprung from bed, throwing on her clothes she was out the door in minutes. Pulling her suitcase behind her, she ran for the truck. Driving like a bat out of hell, in record time, an hour and a half later, she arrived at the lodge. She saw the raging flames from the highway as she turned east. Pulling into the driveway lined with emergency vehicles and onlookers, she wanted to die. It was worse than she thought. The firemen hadn’t saved anything. The buggy under the front porch was in flames, everything was burned beyond recognition. Getting out of the truck, she saw

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the river rock fireplace cave in, in her mind seeing it go was like seeing the end of the world. The entire restaurant was gone. It had burned completely to the ground in less than two hours. There was nothing left, but charred rubble and a mixed bag of memories.

The fire chief approached holding his hat in his hands. His face blackened with smoke, she saw tears well up in his eyes.

“It was like an explosion. The whole place quickly erupted into flames. We couldn’t put water on it until the power company arrived to turn off the power. It took them a long time to come from Woodward. We tried Cheyenne, but here was no way we could save anything. Gas lines exploded. We heard liquor bottles burst from the heat. I'm so sorry, Cheyenne!” Seeing her collapse, he grabbed her and held her in his arms. He felt sorry, yet he knew there was nothing more he could do.

“What’s this all about Lord help me to understand!” She wanted to throw herself into the smoldering flames.

Suddenly reflecting on everything she'd worked so hard for, the crap she’d put up with…seeing her dream world burned down around her…she felt helpless knowing this time, there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. She saw familiar faces walk around the charred site shaking their heads in disbelief. Many local people were in tears, lost in their own private

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memories. The Rusty Spur Café had been a very important part of their lives. In the blink of an eye, it was gone.

She saw Rowdy close by engaged in conversation with his sisters and a brother-in-law. Breaking away from the fireman’s arms, she ran sobbing toward him. Although they recently had their differences, she needed him at that moment! Welcoming her with open arms, he held her while she cried. She heard his rude, un-caring brother-in-law speak, and Cheyenne went ballistic.

“Y’all got any cold beer?” Jordan asked like everything was a joke.

She couldn’t believe he could be so stupid. Considering the source, she clinched her fist. Glaring at him she wanted to pick up a two by four and hit him on the side of the head.

“Don’t pay any attention to Jordan, Cheyenne. You know he’s an idiot.” Rowdy hugged her close.

She thought. You ignorant selfish, son-of-a-bitch, why do you always have to be so rude? Holding her tongue, she kept her thoughts to herself. He didn’t deserve the satisfaction of a reply. She’d never liked Jordan, and she wasn’t alone. He was the kind of guy who rubbed everyone the wrong way. He couldn’t open his mouth without putting his foot in it. She suddenly loathed him and everyone around her. She held on tight to Rowdy, but she

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despised him too. At the moment, she hated the world, and everyone in it. Feeling life being sucked out of her, she wanted to die.

Thirty minutes later the restaurant had completely burned to the ground. There was nothing left, just black soot and rubble. She saw firemen, roll up their hoses; people get into their cars and Rowdy drive away. Feeling defeated and alone, Cheyenne walked down the hill toward the apartment. She thought. It’s the end of an era. She doubted anyone would ever follow in her footsteps. After all was there anyone out there who would be so stupid?

Glancing back again, she saw he Rocking A at the top of the metal coat rack standing proud and still, smoke billowing up around it. Everything else was gone. She thought. How appropriate. My life is in ruins, but my brand lives on!

God worked in mysterious ways. Thinking about all the times she’d prayed to get out of there, she imagined the fire was a godly intervention. She thought. Did you answer my prayers? From this day on, I’ll pay attention to what I pray for.

Cheyenne’s hopes and dreams went up in smoke the day of the fire. Seeing Larry drive away, she lost faith in her fellow man. She felt herself become a hardened and bitter woman. Fed up with everyone taking advantage, she saw what had been her chance to escape, disappear in the

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smoldering ash. Her financial and emotional loss was astronomical. She doubted she’d ever recover.

Rolling up her sleeves, she tenaciously began the task of cleaning up. She called her friend, Vic and asked him to bring out a dozer and crew to clean up the mess. A steady stream of curious onlookers drove by staring at the ruins. Seeing her small frame digging through the charred mess, they would stop to console her. The restaurant held many good memories for everyone. It saddened them all to see the devastation.

Larry was running the show when the Rusty Spur Café burned to the ground. A few days after the devastating fire, he left town, high-tailing it back to Vegas. She suspected he started the fire to collect insurance, but there was no insurance. Larry hadn’t made the premium payments for several months. The policy cancelled three months after he took over. Everything was gone, and there was no insurance. The restaurant was decimated. Cheyenne suffered an out-of-the-pocket financial loss of over eight hundred thousand dollars.

Unable to determine the cause, the Fire Marshall found no proof of arson. Cheyenne wondered why Larry fled town in such a hurry. When she examined the books and records after his departure, her questions were answered. He had failed to pay insurance premiums, and he'd neglected to pay sales and payroll taxes. He left her with a mound of unpaid bills. The

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demoralizing arrangement she’d made with Larry Marciano left her worse off financially than she was before.

The fire was Cheyenne’s ticket out of Freedom. There was no longer a good reason for her to stay. She didn’t have the energy to rebuild; her intuition told her it was time to put the past behind her, and to get on with it.

Her prayers were answered again a few days later. She received a phone call from a Texas man who wanted to buy her thirty-five-hundred-acre ranch. He offered to pay seven hundred and fifty dollars an acre, which meant a nice profit. She accepted his offer feeling the weight of the world lift off her shoulders. Thirty days later when the sale closed on the ranch, she paid off the mortgage and deposited over a million dollars into her bank account. She planned to get out of Freedom before anyone came up with ideas on how to take the money from her, especially Rowdy.

“Come on Cheyenne, help me out? I’ve got notes due at the bank, bad checks floating around the country, and my account is overdrawn again,” Rowdy was aware she’d received a large amount of cash from the sale.

Seeing him once again turn on his cowboy charm, her face turned red in anger. She thought. What a loser! He begged for a forty-thousand dollar loan to bail him out of yet another bad situation. Desperate, he offered to turn over his mineral rights to a family well to her as collateral.

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“Loan me the money, Cheyenne. I’ll give you the rights to the Emily Jo. You can collect the monthly payments from the well until you’re paid in full, and then you can deed it back to the family trust.” Rowdy knew he had no right to encumber the family trust property, but a desperate man does desperate things.

“What will your sisters say when they find out?” she asked.

“They won’t find out. I promise. I’ll cross that bridge when it gets here. Please Cheyenne! This is the last favor I’ll ever ask of you.” Rowdy threw his hands into the air, like he often did, when he wanted to make a point.

Seriously questioning her sanity, Cheyenne gave in. She agreed to the loan under specific written conditions.

“I’ll take the well as collateral and you will need to pay me all the money you get from cattle sales next month. I don’t trust you, Rowdy. You took advantage of me from the very beginning. You won’t get away with it this time. Everything must be agreed to in writing. I’m fed up with your bull shit promises.” She trembled, feeling threatened again.

“Come on baby. Loan me the money. You owe me something for the last thirteen years.” As usual, the ruthless cowboy was determined to have his way.

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“You know I don’t owe you shit. You done nothing, but take from me from the day we met. The terms of this last loan will be in writing. You will not screw me again, do you understand? I’ll take the well rights so long as you sign this directive advising Chesapeake of the agreement and ordering them to make monthly payments to me until the debt is paid. I also want the proceeds from all cattle sales, ten percent interest, and a deed to your sixty acres. I’ll release the rights to the well when you have paid me in full. Do you understand me?” Questioning her sanity, she wondered how she could still let the jerk get to her after all this time. Cheyenne was a big hearted woman who had a problem saying no.

“Go ahead and write up the agreement. I’ll sign it.” Rowdy’s only concern was the money, he felt relieved knowing she’d agreed to lend it to him. As always he showed no shame or remorse in manipulated her. He’d been brought up a survivor. He would do what it took to get his way.

“Before I agree, I also want you to write out eight individual signed checks made payable to me for the sum of five thousand each. Sign them and leave the date blank. When you sell the cattle let me know and I’ll deposit the checks. If you pay me otherwise, I’ll tear up the checks and return them to you.” Cheyenne crossed her fingers. She hoped she’d covered all bases. Typing out the agreement, she thought. Don’t even think about trying to stiff me this time cowboy! This is absolutely the last favor I will

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ever do for you! Don’t ask me for anything else. It’s over, Rowdy. No more free ride, it’s time for me to mosey on.

Rowdy signed the agreement. He wrote out eight separate checks made payable to her, and signed the directive giving her mineral rights to the family oil well. Cheyenne wrote a check for forty-thousand dollars. Feeling foolish, used and abused she handed it to him. She believed she had the necessary collateral needed, to collect this time.

She stayed at the lodge for another two days and wrapped up what was left of the guest ranch business. After cancelling all pending room reservations she closed it down. She called Steve and asked if he’d be interested in caretaking the lodge until she could find a buyer. She offered him free rent and told him not to rent out the rooms. He knew a good thing when he saw it. Steve agreed.

“I’m sorry to see you go. Weave lots of good memories. I’m glad to be able to help you out.”

Steve moved in the same day she moved out. After hanging a closed sign on the office door, she walked down the front porch locking all the room doors. Hesitating outside room number six, she thought about how she’d jokingly called it the Bucking Horse Room. The thought made her smile. She would miss the place in some ways, but in other ways, she was glad to be finally going. Cheyenne had nothing left to give; she was finished. She could

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no longer afford Rowdy’s extravagant lifestyle. If she stayed around Freedom any longer, she would be broke again.

Hugging Steve good-bye, she got into the Avalanche and drove away. Pausing momentarily at the site of the burned down restaurant, she fought back tears. Pulling the car onto Highway 50, she passed, Rowdy going north toward Freedom. Her hands frozen to the steering wheel, she didn’t wave good-bye. Although he saw the tears streaming down her face he didn’t try to stop her from leaving. He had what he needed. They money was in the bank. He had taken all he could take and she had given all she could give. He gave her a big wave and a crooked smile. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had. Silently vowing to pay her back every penny this time, Rowdy prayed nothing would go wrong with the cattle sale.

When Cheyenne called him a few weeks later to find out when she could cash his checks. He confessed, as usual things hadn’t gone well at the sale barn. The cows brought half of what he'd expected them to bring, and he was overdrawn at the bank again.

“I can’t pay you right now. I need every dime I got from the sale to catch up on what I owe around here. I’m sorry. Hang in there! I’ll pay you when I can.” Rowdy felt no remorse.

Thankful she’d taken the oil well as security, she pestered him with daily phone calls expecting him to pay her the money. When she deposited the

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five thousand dollar checks he’d given her, it came as no surprise to her, when they bounced. A year later, Rowdy had finally repaid the debt. Although he was late, Cheyenne was relieved he’d finally followed through with a promise. It was another hard lesson learned. It was too late for her to change anything that had happened in the past. Cheyenne was happy to be rid of the chains that held them together. She had her regrets. She enabled him for too many years. She was free again and could move on. He was a manipulating survivor. There would be other women, and another sucker, Rowdy would never change.

She thought. He'll always spend more money than he makes. His life will always be a struggle, yet he’ll always manage to get what he needs.

Cheyenne had finally developed an overwhelming desire to take care of herself. She thought. To hell with everyone else, especially the user and boozer, Rowdy Harrison!

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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Driving away from Freedom, Cheyenne’s mind flooded with memories. Distinctively remembering every detail of her Oklahoma life, she focused on the good and bad times. She thought. No one will ever believe what I’ve been through. I should write a book. My story will make one hell of a movie! Aware some would doubt what she had to say, and she was certain a few would dispute what she wrote, yet Cheyenne was determined to someday share the truth as she knew it.

Despite the large investment, of both time and money, she'd made few friends in Freedom. Cheyenne had her share of enemies. She shuddered remembering the fortunes she’d spent there, and the hard work it had taken to survive.

She thought about when they had taken their bull Wild Fire to perform at Madison Square Garden in New York City. They had such a good time sharing stories about life in Oklahoma with the curious New Yorkers. People

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there appreciated hearing about life in the West. A few seemed envious when they described the wide-open spaces. Thinking about Wild Fire reminded her that Rowdy had foolishly sold him for fifteen thousand dollars. A year later a man in Minnesota paid the new owner a million for half interest. The thought turned her stomach.

The people they met on Madison Avenue loved them. They bought their drinks and dinner. A world-renowned chef, happy to meet a real cowboy, gave Rowdy a tour of his gourmet kitchen. She thought. We must have looked out of place walking down 5th Avenue dressed in our cowboy boots and blue jeans.

Remembering when they first met in Las Vegas, she thought about the fun they had. They had returned there many times over the years to see their bulls buck at the National Finals Rodeo and the PBR Finals. She laughed out loud recalling the night Rowdy took her to a girlie show at Glitter Gulch on Fremont Street.

“Baby, I’m going to treat you to a show tonight!” He’d laughed, knowing he was really taking her to a titty bar. He’d held her hand tight as he ushered her inside. When they were seated at the bar, scantily clad women approached from all angles. They crawled along the bar shaking their boobies and butts, and asking Rowdy if they could do him. He’d grinned from ear to ear loving the attention. Cheyenne had never seen such a show. When they asked if they could do her, she’d protested. They stayed for over

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an hour. Seeing Rowdy stuff dollar bills into their G-strings like he was a rich man had amused her, at the time. She smiled thinking how nervous she’d been when she had to use the ladies room. She never again trusted him to take her to a show in Vegas.

Driving west through Texas and beyond into New Mexico, Cheyenne had a lot of time to think. She had learned a lot the past thirteen years. Passing through Albuquerque she analyzed the relationship. Wondering what he’d really gone through as a child to make him the man he was today, she was aware his childhood wasn’t pleasant. His father was abusive. He had felt inferior growing up poor. Rowdy had suppressed his anger; most of the time. But when he released it, Betty bar the door!

He'd been hurt by his ex-wife, Wilma. She carried on with every guy in town. When she thought he’d left for work, he’d park a block away and see other men come and go from their doublewide. Her father warned him not to marry her, but he’d fallen for the slut. Hoping to get Wilma away from her multitude of lovers, he moved the young family to Fort Worth. Working two jobs, he shoed horses at the race track during the day, and protected a cold- blooded mobster at night. His nightmares of the horrific times he spent in Fort Worth sometimes woke him in a cold sweat. He admitted he’d broken a few arms and legs, and smashed a few noses. He hinted that he’d done even worse. She didn’t want to know the unpleasant details. Some things were better left unsaid.

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Rowdy was thirty years old when he and Wilma separated. She took their infant daughter and left him and their four year old Shane behind in Texas. Eventually running for his life, he left Fort Worth in the middle of the night and returned to live on the family ranch in Freedom.

His previous life haunted him. He’d sometimes wake her in the night. Trembling, he would share his wild dreams with her. Many were frightening beyond belief. If he weren’t being chased by wild bulls, he was running from gangsters; or he’d see his ex-wife in the arms of another man. Rowdy had a knack for describing his colorful dreams in vivid detail. Unfortunately, he had to live with his demons.

The cowboy was an important part of her life for thirteen years. She knew she’d never forget him. Despite his past, she saw him as a doting father, and most times a kind man. His major fault was his drinking. After hearing the stories about his past, she understood why the bottle was such an important part of his world.

Remembering their early morning talks, and the late night discussions, she realized she knew him well. Rowdy was a real cowboy with a great big heart. His past had meant nothing to her. She was sorry he'd experienced some of the things he'd gone through. Nevertheless, most times overlooking his faults, she'd loved him for the kind, humorous, caring man he could sometimes be.

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Before moving to Oklahoma, Cheyenne had no idea of the miles and miles of barbed-wire fence it took to hold a pasture full of cattle. Exposed to ice storms, thunderstorms, tornadoes, and blinding snow, she found out the hard way, she was a survivor.

Ranch trucks, like cowboys, were undependable. You never knew if they would start or where they were going to stop. She learned not to slide across the front seat, or risk being stuck by a used hypodermic needle. She never left the ranch without a roll of toilet paper in the pickup truck. Even though the gas gauge might say empty, Rowdy claimed you could still make it to Oklahoma City. The lessons she learned in Freedom would be with her for life.

She existed with skunks, scorpions, brown recluse, big spiders, small spiders, bull snakes, rattlesnakes, raccoons, porcupines, and even a wild ostrich or two. The tall prairie grass surrounding the ranch held many creatures, both large and small. Cougars and coyotes were abundant, and an occasional black bear was rumored to have ventured down Freedom’s main street.

In the beginning, she'd loved the adventure. It excited her when Rowdy strutted to open a gate as they made their way across miles and miles of range land. All the working cowboys had strong, muscled bodies, earned from hard work on the ranch. Rowdy was no exception. He'd insisted she eat

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her black-eyed peas on New Year's Day so she wouldn’t have a lousy year. For thirteen years she’d eaten the peas.

Memories of the years she spent in Freedom filled her with mixed emotions. She'd enjoyed the good times and endured the bad. Cheyenne was proud of her accomplishments. She’d built a million-dollar lodge, restaurant and rodeo arena. She’d raised a phenomenal herd of bucking bulls, and she'd survived the elements.

Locals and visitors from around the world were amazed at the oasis she'd created. She’d put her heart and soul into the project. Her legacy would live on without her. She could no longer exist in the small country town. Cheyenne was thankful to be traveling on.

Crossing the New Mexico border, she entered Arizona, her mind still alive with memories. It would take her very long time to get over the cowboy, and life in Freedom. In some ways she’d felt obligated. Though it had taken a toll, she believed life without Rowdy would have been rather boring. Had it all been worth it? The experience had cost her dearly, in so many ways.

Wiping tears from her eyes, she turned off Interstate 40 and drove south on Highway 17. It had been a very long and disappointing journey. She was tired of driving, and thankful to be close to home. She couldn’t wait to tell her friends and family she'd left Freedom in the dust.

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Despite listening to family and friends about how she should have lived her life, Cheyenne had ignored their advice. She’d followed her heart. The road recently traveled had stirred her soul. She was ready to forge ahead believing sweeping change could only occur when a tipping point had been reached. Cheyenne had reached her tipping point.

The days, weeks, months and years she'd spent with Rowdy had shown her she must learn to draw the line. She finally knew what she would and would not tolerate.

Cheyenne was a survivor. If she could get passed what had gone on in Freedom, she could do anything! God always provided her with abundant strength when she needed it. Her guardian angels helped her through some, very trying times.

She’d always been a risk taker. Her investments in Freedom were a huge risk. She'd given all she could give, hoping to make Cedar Creek Ranch a success.

Wondering what the Lord had in mind for the next chapter, Cheyenne looked forward to new adventures somewhere far away from Freedom.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

For the next two years, the lodge stood vacant. The cowboy caretaker and a handful of his crazy cowboy friends occupied the rooms, for free. Undaunted, Cheyenne continued with her quest to sell the lodge.

By the early spring of 2008, she hadn’t yet found a buyer. She began to receive phone calls from Freedom residents asking her to reopen the lodge. The oil boom going on in the area left them with a shortage of rooms to house the oil field workers.

Cheyenne returned to Freedom early that summer. Big Steve agreed to relocate, and she moved back into the familiar apartment. She refurbished and cleaned up the lodge. Working long, hard hours, she prepared to reopen for business.

She realized she would have a better chance of finding a buyer if she rebuilt the restaurant. However, she wasn’t interested in investing a huge sum of money. Considering the situation, she remodeled the beer garden, left

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standing after the fire. There was nothing, but an open wooden shell with four walls and a tin roof.

Cheyenne cleaned the rooms and the carpeting, bought linens, and painted the bathrooms. She bought new televisions and discarded the old ones. She hung bright Mexican blankets on the windows for curtains, and she was pleased with the way they looked.

Although she knew better, Cheyenne fell in love with the place all over again. She believed Cedar Creek Ranch could once again be a success. She discussed it with Rowdy and he laughed.

“Don’t be stupid, Cheyenne! Who will do all the work? Not me! I’ll never take a city slicker on a trail ride again! Don’t count on me! You’re a dreamer!” Rowdy was determined not to get involved.

In no time she was exhausted again. She worked night and day remodeling and cleaning every nook and corner. The place looked great, but Cheyenne looked like hell. She spread the word she needed a full-time person to live at the lodge and run it. Rowdy suggested she call his friend, Janelle Jones, and offer her the job. Cheyenne knew Janelle. She believed her to be an honest, hardworking woman. Dialing the number, she prayed Janelle would say yes.

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“Will you come to work for me? I need someone to manage the lodge. It’s free room and board, and I’ll pay you whatever you ask!” Cheyenne knew she would give her anything she wanted.

“Cheyenne, you’re a dream come true. I’m very interested. I need a job and a place to live. I’ll work hard!” Janelle agreed.

“You’re hired! I’ll be here to help you out. The two of us will make this thing work again!” Cheyenne was ecstatic, she’d found her manager. She looked forward to working with Janelle. She admired her spunk and beauty, both inside and out.

Janelle was highly intelligent. Cheyenne enjoyed their conversations. She was concerned about her limp. Seeing the good hearted woman rarely complain, she asked if she were in pain. Just getting around was a constant struggle for Janelle. Cheyenne admired her attitude and perseverance.

The new manager tore into the remodeling project with vengeance, appreciating the trust her boss gave her. The women fast became friends. They were a hard working team. Cheyenne allowed Janelle to take control, assuring her she would be in the wings to back her up.

Janelle was surprised the day Cheyenne bought her a special present. She lovingly called the used golf cart her company car. Despite her difficulties, Janelle had a great personality and a terrific wit. Cheyenne loved her for it.

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The women got along extremely well. Knowing their boundaries, they respected each other’s space.

“What caused the problem with your leg?” Cheyenne asked one day as they worked side by side.

Janelle seemed relieved that Cheyenne cared. She willingly shared her story.

“In the late 1950’s, when I was only a year old, my mother took me into a clinic for a polio vaccination. Unfortunately, rather than preventing the disease, the vaccination caused me to have polio. My parents repeatedly took me to doctors in Oklahoma City, but they couldn’t find a doctor who understood the disease, or how to correct the damage to my leg. Doctors at the Children’s Hospital in Oklahoma City operated on it every year for the first eight years of my life. When I was around six they tried to fit me with a brace, but it didn’t work.”

Learning to cope with the disability, she lived her life with sheer determination. Ignoring the handicap, Janelle found alternative ways to do things. If scrubbing the floor on her knees was easier; that’s how she did it.

“I know the polio vaccination harmed me. It harmed many other children in the 1950s. Many of those who received the vaccination contracted polio.” She had tears in her eyes.

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Instead of the vaccination protecting her from polio, as it should have done, the live vaccine, gave her polio.

“When my own children were born, I went to several different doctors to get their opinions before I’d allow anyone to vaccinate my kids! I was petrified one of them might have to go through what I’ve gone through.” She wiped her nose on her sleeve.

Her story made Cheyenne sad. No one deserved the cards Janelle was dealt. If she could have done anything to make it better for her, she would have.

Janelle was a tough lady. Despite her difficulties, she pitched in. She kept a close eye on the workers building the new restaurant. She nagged them every day to get the job done. Physically driving nails, she insulated the entire building, and did most of the electrical wiring. Janelle painted the walls and cleaned up daily after the men working on the project. She was a gift from Heaven.

Sketching out the plans for the bar and kitchen, she measured everything out to the nearest inch. She ordered equipment and supplies, and helped Cheyenne stain the walls and concrete floors.

“you be the decorator, I don’t have taste worth shit!” Janelle left the decorating up to Cheyenne.

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They were both pleased with the results. The new Rusty Spur Cafe was much smaller than the original. The old restaurant seated one hundred and forty-five, the new one sat forty-five.

Cheyenne spent months in Freedom during the remodel. She lived in the lodge, but ate most of her meals at Rowdy’s. He was very supportive. He gave her lots of moral support, and as usual, she leaned on him now and then.

“Don’t think about trying to make this thing work again! Get it done and get it sold! You deserve a better life in a better place!” Rowdy knew in his selfish heart, he’d miss her.

Sensing her days in Oklahoma slowly come to an end, Cheyenne invited several girlfriends to join her for a long weekend at the lodge. She was excited to finally show them where she'd spent the last thirteen years.

Planning the party, she hired a band to play outside on the large concrete slab left standing after the fire. She asked Rowdy to haul in bales of hay for them to sit on.

She was there to greet them when they arrived at the airport in Oklahoma City. Loading their luggage into two rental cars, they drove to Freedom, arriving at the lodge in the late afternoon.

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The first thing on their agenda was to stop at the Rusty Spur to meet Janelle, and drink a cold beer. After visiting and drinking a few beers, they picked up their room keys. One by one, the friends headed down the hill to the lodge. Two women stayed in each room. Cheyenne appreciated the way her friends all pitched in, and helped each other out. Seeing them drag their suitcases into their rooms, she smiled hearing their shrill shrieks and screams as they discovered the luxury and beauty of the lodge.

Wanting her guests to feel like cowgirls she bought cowboy hats and western bandana’s for everyone. Changing into their blue jeans, they put on their cowboy hats and headed back up the hill to the bar. The women were ready for a wild night out in Freedom. Cheyenne hoped they wouldn’t be disappointed.

Customers began coming into the restaurant. They seemed to enjoy meeting Cheyenne’s friends. Calvin, Rowdy’s ranch hand, sat on a stool drinking beer. The more beer Calvin drank, the more he thought he was a lover. Cheyenne realized he was drunk. He could be unbearable when he drank too many beers.

“Which one of you pretty purty’ gals is my woman tonight?” Calvin slurred.

Cheyenne’s friends didn't want any part of the young, drunken cowboy. When Shane came into the bar, she asked him to take the ranch hand home.

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Cheyenne’s visitors relaxed and enjoyed themselves after the offensive drunk left the bar.

The restaurant filled with customers and the women happily engaged them in conversation. The locals found the city gals to be entertaining and fun. As the night wore on, Cheyenne invited everyone to return the following night. “I’ve hired a live band. Please come back and enjoy the music tomorrow night!”

Throughout the evening, several customers came and went. Kathryn greeted each one like she owned the place. Trisha and Jennifer enjoyed talking to the cowboys who came into the bar. Darlene felt no pain as she entertained Rowdy’s cousin Carey with stories about some of the trips she'd taken with Cheyenne. Tammy enjoyed serving drinks to the customers. Edie sat happily listening to an old farmer tell stories about the Oklahoma land rush.

She reminded her friends to watch the clock, as she planned on taking them into the Freedom Saloon to meet Spike and the boys. Her visiting friends were having a wonderful time. They felt no pain. Darlene asked, “What should we wear into town tonight? I didn’t bring anything fancy.”

“Wear your jeans, boots and hats! I’m taking you on a wild west adventure!” Cheyenne replied.

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When the women entered the Freedom Saloon, they saw several local cowboys and farmers seated at the bar. Spike greeted them with a friendly hello, and he entertained them by sharing a few jokes and stories about Cheyenne’s past behavior in his bar. “If I weren’t so in love with Rowdy, I’d be in love with Spike!” Spike liked Cheyenne. He went along with her stories.

She introduced her friends to the other men in the bar.

“I told you guys a long time ago I would bring some beautiful women to town! What do you think? How did I do?” she asked with a smile.

Engaging the women in conversation, Del and Vic seemed happier than she’d seen them in some time.

Kathryn and Darlene, having both met Tim a few years before, kept the bar entertained by telling funny stories about him.

“He bought me a new pair of cowboy boots!” Darlene said with a smile.

“He took me out to a steak dinner in Las Vegas! I would have rather had new boots!” Kathryn felt a little jealous.

“Call him! We want Tim to come to the bar,” Darlene was excited.

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“He’s not one of our favorite people. Don’t call the egotistical jerk! We’ll have more fun without him,” Spike discouraged the women from calling Tim.

Kathryn shared her Las Vegas stories, and Darlene talked about how she met him a few years before in Oklahoma City. Gossip flew in the Freedom Saloon that night. The bar patrons wanted to know everything about Cheyenne’s friends. The women eagerly obliged.

Trisha asked Spike for quarters to play music on the old juke box. She was fascinated by the Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings tunes, and she played them all. Hank Williams and Patsy Kline entertained, and the cowboys danced the women around the dance floor. Edie and Tammy challenged two young good-looking cowboys to a game of pool, and Kathryn, Darlene and Cheyenne hung onto each other, singing along with Willie Nelson and using their beer bottles for microphones.

The city women took over the bar and the local men loved it. The music played loud and the women were louder. The women hollered yahoo and they danced on the tables. The local men seemed happy. They enjoyed the entertainment. It was good, clean, innocent fun. Cheyenne was happy her friends had finally come to Freedom. She'd sometimes felt so alone there. But she wasn’t lonely now; she was surrounded by her best buddies.

“What goes on in Freedom stays in Freedom!” She laughed.

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Taking Vic by the hand, Darlene pulled him out onto the dance floor. Dancing the Texas Swing, Darlene looked like she knew what she was doing. Cheyenne saw Vic smile big as he danced her around the floor. Kathryn and a young cowboy danced the two-step, and Kathryn tried to teach him the Arizona version.

Buck Jones was in the bar. The women insisted he join them on the bench outside for a group photo. He protested.

“I don’t want my damned picture taken!” Buck was being his normal moody self. He finally agreed to join them for the picture after Darlene convinced him she wanted him there. Sitting in the center of the bench, he was surrounded by Cheyenne’s friends. The bartender took their picture seeing everyone, except Buck Jones, smile.

The women complained they were starving. They were ready to return to the lodge. Tammy described the big, thick, juicy steaks waiting for them at the Rusty Spur, and their mouths watered. Arriving at the lodge the women each ordered a steak dinner. Cheyenne tried to talk them into trying the calf fries, but none of them wanted anything to do with bull nuts. They filled their stomachs with the thick steaks, and in no time, one by one, they headed down the hill to their rooms.

It was unusual for any of them to have consumed so many beers, and Cheyenne expected her guests would have headaches the next morning. As

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she watched the lights go out in the rooms, she heard Kathryn cry out that her bed was spinning. Edie tried to calm her down by promising she’d ride horses with her the next day. Cheyenne was worn out from the day’s activities. She made her way into room number six and fell exhausted into bed.

The following day the women toured Rowdy’s family ranch. Cheyenne showed them the bunkhouse where she'd spent so much of her time years before. Most of her friends refused to go inside. They all appeared to be shocked at the rundown condition of the bunkhouse. Cheyenne assured them it looked much better when she'd actually lived there. Kathryn and Darlene bucked up and went inside, and Tammy and Trisha poked their noses in the front door, but they wouldn’t go inside. It was a horrible sight! Cheyenne had never seen it so trashed. Several cowhands had come and gone since she'd lived there, and she realized it had been at least nine years since she'd called the bunkhouse home.

They enjoyed poking their way around the farm. Cheyenne entertained them with her bullfrog story.

“One night the rain was coming down in buckets. The floor of the bunkhouse was flooded with rain water. Every time it rained, a river flowed through the inside. I got up in the middle of the night to go pee. When I stepped out of bed I stepped into at least three inches of water. I made my way into the bathroom and reluctantly turned on the light. I was lucky I

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wasn’t electrocuted. I knew I had arrived as I sat there on the cold toilet seat. I saw a very large bull frog looking up at me. It didn’t faze me! I didn’t even scream! I looked at the large frog, and said evening frog, how you doing? Finishing my job, I turned out the lights, and I went to bed!” She finished her story with a grin.

The women laughed, holding onto their sides.

“Mama, you’re lucky to be alive! I never imagined what you’ve gone through, living in this God-awful place!” Tammy couldn’t believe her mother had stayed so long.

Rowdy abandoned the bunkhouse and the old family farm several years before. He was living at his Grandfather Walt’s farm five miles down the road. Cheyenne explained to her friends how it had been different when she'd first come to Freedom. She told them how she could still visualize the old couple sitting on the front porch swing holding hands and chatting with each other. She thought. Time certainly changes everything! Several head of cattle and a few bucking bulls stood grazing on the grass in the front yard. Ranch horses and Rose Bud, the miniature donkey, grazed lazily alongside the cattle.

It depressed her to see the old farm in such a state of deterioration, and she was somewhat sorry she'd made it a part of the tour. The women were full of questions and Cheyenne answered them truthfully. As they got into

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their car, to continue their journey, Cheyenne said, “It really wasn’t this bad when I lived here!” The women saw the tears well up in her sky blue eyes.

They left the old farm and Cheyenne drove them to the local cemetery. She apologized for taking them there.

“There is not much to do in a small town. You have to learn how to make your own entertainment.” She laughed out loud.

The women enjoyed roaming through the tall prairie grass at the cemetery. They commented on the ages of the dead inscribed on the grave markers. They saw there were many very young children and babies buried there. The women surmised the babies were victims of the dust bowl. They noticed the names on the tombstones, the large family plots and the uniqueness of the old headstones. There were many small grave markers with no names on them. The women lingered awhile at Wilbur and Arlene’s family plot, and Cheyenne shared more stories about the kind people they were.

She told the story, about when Rowdy lit the cemetery on fire.

“Rowdy sometimes burns his fields to rid them of the weeds before he plants his crops. The wind wasn’t blowing when he started the fire. Even so, shortly after he set the fire, a strong wind came through from the north. It blew the fire for miles. I was waiting for him at the cemetery. I saw the flames engulf the land around it. The grass on the graves was burning. I

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walked over the graves, stomping out the flames with my brand-new ostrich cowboy boots. When Rowdy came to pick me up I gave him hell for burning the grass on the graves. The people in the graves had already been through hell. I asked him why he needed to aggravate them further by burning the cemetery. The fire burned over a thousand acres before Rowdy and Big Steve got it under control,” Cheyenne worried they were tiring of her tales. She feared they may think she’d lost her ever-loving mind.

The women spent most of the morning at the cemetery. When they drove away, it was twelve o’clock. Driving them back to the lodge, Cheyenne said, “After lunch, I’ll take you to Wal-Mart in Woodward.”

The women wanted to replenish their snacks and buy wine at the liquor store. They were excited to see more of Oklahoma. She'd worried her friends might become bored. Nevertheless, she was glad to see they were enjoying themselves with the simple events she'd planned.

Saturday night was usually a busy night at the restaurant. Cheyenne looked forward to hearing the live band she'd hired to play for her friends. She was certain several of the local cowboys would show up to dance with them.

The women sat around outside on the picnic tables drinking beer and telling stories. The restaurant door opened and a middle-aged couple joined them the porch. Cheyenne waved.

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“Evening Ely, how are you, Britta?” Cheyenne asked.

Ely and Britta Martin walked toward the group, and sat down beside her at the picnic table.

Seeing the grown women act silly, Cheyenne encouraged them to howl like a coyote. Without any prodding, Ely gave his version of a wild coyote. Britta belted out hers too. Cheyenne introduced them, explaining Ely was her neighbor.

“Ely’s a retired state representative. He lives just down the road.”

The women questioned him about his life in politics. Darlene, an avid Obama supporter, asked, “Did you vote for Obama?” She fell off her chair hearing his answer.

“Hell no, I didn’t vote for that danged nigger!” Ely said proudly.

Darlene was appalled. The other women walked inside the restaurant, shaking their heads. They appeared to be in shock after hearing such a redneck response, especially from a man of Ely Martin’s status. Seeing Darlene was visibly upset and angry, Cheyenne was furious.

Marching into the restaurant, Darlene told anyone who would listen, exactly what she thought of the republican representative. She calmed down somewhat when Cheyenne explained she wasn’t entirely alone in her

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opinion. Many of those living in Freedom considered Ely to be an arrogant, egotistical, self-serving man.

Seeing the way the women reacted to her bigot husband, she took him by the hand and walked toward the car. As they drove away in the clean white Lincoln town car, Cheyenne said, “Let the party begin.”

The restaurant was full. Half the town showed up for dinner and to listen to the music. Cheyenne threw a party for her friends. She wasn't worried about anything other than showing them a good time, and she introduced the women to everyone who came into the restaurant. She planned on everyone enjoying themselves. Seeing they were, she relaxed and enjoyed the evening.

Cheyenne and Rowdy danced their version of a dirty dance. Vic never stopped smiling, taking turns waltzing the women around the concrete dance floor. Everyone had a great time.

The band stopped playing around two o’clock in the morning. The tired women appeared drunk as they filed down the hill to their rooms. Cheyenne imagined they would sleep in the next day

“We’re having a barbeque around midday. I’ll wake you up in time so you won’t miss out on supper!” She walked away and waved good-bye.

The next morning, Rowdy and Big Steve arrived at eleven. Heating up the deep fryers on the back porch, they cooked huge piles of frog legs,

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rabbit, chicken strips, and calf fries. When the women got out of bed they acted hungry as wolves. They were enjoying the warm weather and the expansive views.

Cheyenne invited local cowboys to the barbeque. Several showed up the next morning for the free food, and cold beer. Her city girlfriends thrived on the attention they got from the Freedom men. She was happy she'd invited them.

She warned Rowdy and Steve not to tell the girls what they were about to eat. She asked them to say they were cooking catfish. The men played along, and as the women filled their plates, they encouraged them to take more. Cheyenne and Rowdy tried not to laugh seeing the women fill their plates with calf fries, thinking it was cat fish. She couldn't wait to tell them the truth.

The storytelling continued during the Sunday barbecue. Cheyenne told about the time Rowdy took her to lunch in town. She'd thought they were going there to eat catfish.

“Cheyenne asked where we caught catfish around here. I didn’t know what in the hell she was talking about. I said we were going into town to eat calf fries. My friends were cooking them in their garage in Freedom. We walked in to find several large brown paper boxes filled to the brim. Cheyenne thought all along she was eating fish. She even asked my friends

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for tartar sauce. One of the guys asked where I'd found the crazy woman! No one around Freedom puts tartar sauce on their calf fries!” Rowdy chimed in looking for attention.

“His friends welcomed me like I was one of them,” she laughed.

“Cheyenne was evidently hungry! She cleaned her plate. When I asked if she’d like more, she was full. Unsure if she liked her cat fish prepared that way, she asked if I’d ever eaten brown catfish before.” Rowdy explained he didn’t know what she was talking about. He'd assumed she knew about calf fries.

She hadn’t. Sate bull nuts. Thinking she heard a man say “calf fries” she asked again what they were.

“What is this? Is it cat fish?” she’d asked.

“Cheyenne, you’ve been eating bull balls, not catfish!” He laughed when he finished telling the story. It was amusing to see the look on everyone’s face. Unable to hold it in any longer, she burst out, “Girl’s did you like the calf fries? It’s not cat fish! You’ve been eating bull balls!”

Her brave friends thought the calf fries were delicious, and the sissies squealed. Cheyenne had waited a long time to play the silly joke on them.

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The afternoon went by fast. The women enjoyed the friendly cowboys and the calf fries. Big Steve entertained them for hours with his guitar and country songs. They got a kick out of his rendition of Those Oklahoma Hills.

Sensing the party was coming to an end. She saw her friends get on each other’s nerves. Thinking they might have drunk too many Margaritas. Their moods changed from friendly to hostile. Cheyenne thought. This country can make anyone hostile; if you stick around long enough!

The wind picked up and the sun went down. Big Steve packed up his guitar and filled his cooler with leftover calf fries.

“I’m heading for the ranch! See you gals tomorrow.” Rowdy opened another beer and walked away.

The other cowboys deserted the party when they saw the free beer was gone. The women sat outside in the darkness commenting on the clear blue sky, the full moon, and the beautiful bright stars. They all shared stories about previous trips they had taken with Cheyenne, agreeing this one had been the best. They talked nonstop, occasionally stopping to watch a falling star or to hear to a coyote yell.

When they ran out of wine and stories, they made their way back to their rooms. All were tired and looked forward to a good night’s sleep. Cheyenne retired to the apartment alone. She drifted off to sleep thanking God for her good friends, and good fortune.

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In the middle of the night Cheyenne heard loud screams coming from the room next door. She feared someone may have been bitten by a scorpion. Running barefooted down the porch, she pounded on the door of unit number five. She yelled for them let her in.

Kathryn answered the door looking like she’d seen a ghost. Edie sat on the edge of the bed in a cold sweat.

“She has a severe cramp in her leg! I’ve been rubbing it to help the pain go away. I gave her a banana, so she’ll have potassium!” Kathryn was glad to see Cheyenne enter the room.

Edie was grateful Kathryn was her bunkmate. She was a good nurse.

When she saw everything was under control, and no one had been bitten, she returned to her room. Hearing no more screams she assumed the women were okay. Crawling back into bed, she rolled on her side and slept like a baby.

The women were up early. They seemed anxious to pack and get out of there. Their flights left Oklahoma City at noon. A few of them joined Janelle at the restaurant to help prepare breakfast, and to say good-bye. When Tammy tied on an apron and pulled her hair back, she looked like she belonged there. Cheyenne begged her to stay.

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“Sorry Mom, but I’m ready to get back to Seattle.” Tammy couldn’t understand how her mother could live in a place like Freedom, Oklahoma.

Cheyenne knew none of the women would be able to handle life in the country. They’d enjoyed themselves, but she sensed they were ready to go.

Sharing hugs and tears the friends gathered their belongings and climbed into the rental cars. Cheyenne wasn't sure if the tears were because they were going to miss her, or if they just felt sorry for her.

“I’m not leaving you here! You’re coming home with us!” Darlene insisted.

“Thanks for the sympathy! I need to stay until the work here is done. I’ll be home when the place is sold and down the road.” She looked sad.

Cheyenne wished she could get on the airplane and go with them, but she knew she still had work to do. She couldn’t leave until she found a buyer.

Hoping she'd shown them a good time, she realized her friends would never return to Freedom. One visit was enough. They finally understood why she’d been away so long. She would miss them, but she was ready to focus on selling the lodge. The thought hung heavy on her mind, as she waved good-bye.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

When the going got rough in Freedom, Oklahoma the tough got going. The middle of January 2009 several months after Janelle took over, she called Cheyenne in Arizona. “I can’t take it anymore. Business is slow. I haven’t rented a room since Christmas. I'm not making enough money at the restaurant to pay my salary. I’ll be moving on. It doesn't make any sense for me to work seven days a week and worry about where my pay will come from.”

Cheyenne was upset that Janelle wanted to leave, but she understood. “I want you to stay. I’ve applied for an operating loan so I can invest more money into the lodge and pay you more money. The banks aren’t lending money right now. We should have shut completely down during January and February. Business is historically slow after the holidays. It will pick up during rabbit hunting season. I can be there next week, please stay until I can get there. Would you have a suggestion for a replacement manager?”

“No one in Freedom wants to work. Good luck on finding someone else to run this place. We’ve been a good team, but it just isn’t working for me 445

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anymore.” Janelle had tears in her eyes when she hung up the phone. “I’ll see you next week.” It saddened her to be a quitter, but the circumstances were unbearable.

The minute she hung up, without giving it a second thought, Cheyenne listed the lodge for sale on eBay. She presented it at a low price; a mere fraction of what she had invested. Fresh out of ideas, she felt she had no option but to price it below market value. She just wanted out. It was time for her to begin a new journey. The lodge in Freedom had to be sold. It would be a good investment for someone who wanted to work. It was stupid of her to have invested more money. She kicked herself. Why had she rebuilt the restaurant? Times were tough. She no longer had the stamina to make it work, especially without Janelle.

Her mind raced. Success for her in Freedom was out of reach. It was impossible to stay there. She regretted having walked away from her family and friend's so many years before. What made her think she'd have a better life in the country? There's not a woman alive who could survive under these circumstances. I need to do whatever it takes to get the hell out of here. I'm mad as hell, worn out and I refuse to take it anymore! It’s time for me to go home.

Although her desire to succeed was gone, she was much wiser. She was done beating her head against the wall. She came to Freedom seeking love and respect. In the end, she'd found only rejection and humiliation. There

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was nothing left for her there. The vision of walking side by side with the cowboy had vanished. There was no walking beside him. She had to step in front just to stay even. She had faced too many obstacles along the way. In the beginning she thought she would love Rowdy Harrison forever. It had been a rude awakening. She despised him, and his screwed up ways.

Older and wiser, despite her age, she knew it was time to start over again. She wanted a new beginning somewhere far away from Freedom, Oklahoma. She was determined to never be the same old fool. The day she was the center of the cowboy’s universe was long gone. She had been replaced by Grey Goose and one-night stands. The last thing she wanted to do was return to Freedom. She vowed this time would be her last. Cheyenne had finally come to her senses. The task of finding a new manager lay heavy on heart. She thought as she packed for her final trip, Time has changed everything.

It was foolish of her to think her problems were solved when she hired Maude Barker. Customers despised the demanding new manager. Maude was a stubborn mule, a pushy and rude broad. She turned the lovely western restaurant into a country “ma and pa café”. The woman had no sense of style, Cheyenne saw it right away.

Rowdy had known her forever. He had no kind words to say about the new manager. “She’s a thief and a trouble maker. She’ll steal from you and destroy your business. You’ve made a terrible mistake!”

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“Give me a break, Rowdy! There’s not much difference between the two of you. You’re both thieves! I’m between a rock and a hard place. I refuse to live in this hell hole any longer. I will not beat my head against the wall for another minute. I had no choice, but to hire Maude. I’ll put up with her until I find a buyer. It’s really none of your business. You had your shot! You blew it! I certainly can’t rely on you!” Cheyenne was out of breath and red in the face. Her stomach rolled.

“It pisses me off to see the bitch destroy everything we worked so hard for. She's as stubborn as can be. You’d better watch your back! She'll take over! You won't know what hit you!” Rowdy said what was on his mind and turned away. He walked behind the bar, opened a beer, guzzled it down, and stared into space.

“The situation is only temporary. Believe me, I’ll find a buyer!” Cheyenne’s intuition told her one was on the way. She returned to Arizona promising to return to Freedom in a few weeks to check on things. Maude assured her everything was under control, and not to worry.

Maude liked being in charge! She spent Cheyenne’s money like it was water. Pocketing the daily receipts, she neglected to pay the bills. From the first day Maude took over, Cheyenne saw a noticeable reduction in the daily receipts.

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Two weeks later Rowdy called to fill her in on what was happening in her absence.

“Maude’s gone fishing with your money! You’d better get your sweet ass over here while she’s out of town. It’s worse than you think. There won’t be anything left if she’s here much longer.” Rowdy was upset, and sorry to see what was going on.

Cheyenne caught an afternoon flight to Oklahoma. Arriving at the lodge at five o’clock that evening, she stormed inside. She wanted to go through the books while Maude was still away. The new manager was stealing her blind. It took only a few minutes to find the proof she needed. Maude began to embezzle money the day she took control. A careless crook, she’d routinely take cash back from the bank deposits. The deposit slips contained handwritten notes: Less cash back to Maude Barker!

She stole hundreds of dollars from the business, depositing the money into her personal bank account. Cheyenne couldn't believe the blatant evidence she found. She thought. I've seen idiots in my day, but this woman takes the cake! She's stupid! How did she think she’d get away with it? Are there any honest people living in this town?

The thieving manager made no effort to hide the deception. The evidence was there in black and white. Not only had she taken cash, but she'd written

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checks on the company account, paying for personal items not related to Cheyenne’s business.

Maude had called her almost daily claiming the business wasn’t making money. Yet she was fishing in Texas after only working a month. Cheyenne found the entire situation ridiculous. “What a fool she must take me for! She belongs in jail. I’m just the woman to put her there!”

Maude Barker had blown into Cheyenne's life like a Texas tornado. She wanted to put the bitch in prison and throw away the key. It was past midnight when she stopped going through paperwork and turned out the lights. She spent a restless night knowing she’d turn the matter over to the Woodward Country Prosecutor in the morning.

Showering at six o’clock the next morning, she wondered how Maude would react when she found out she was in town. Hastily dressing, Cheyenne was out the door by seven. Arriving at the prosecutor’s office at eight, she followed him into his office. Introducing herself as the owner of the lodge, she placed her investigative file on his desk.

“I’ve got a serious problem with my manager. She’s a thief!”

“That’s a beautiful place you built there in Freedom. I’ve been there many times. I was sorry to hear about the fire! You’re a brave woman to invest so much money in these parts. Let’s take a look at what you got.” The prosecutor picked up the file. Scanning through the evidence, he shook his

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head. “You’ve got everything we need to prosecute. I’ll research her criminal history. Let’s see what else we can find.” He turned to his computer. Typing in Maude’s information, within in a matter of minutes he discovered a previous arrest for embezzlement in Texas. “This is interesting. She was arrested ten years ago in Texas. It looks like she stole a lot of money from her employer. It’s over ten thousand dollars. She was found guilty, and ordered to pay restitution. She accepted a plea instead of jail time. She’s been making payments for several years. Looks like she recently paid them in full.” The prosecutor scanned down further on the computer screen. “Wait, here’s something else. A family in Freedom recently accused her of stealing from their elderly parents. Her old man bailed her out of that one. It’s too bad. She comes from a good family. I wonder when her life went so wrong.”

The evidence showed Maude was a felon. How stupid she’d been to hire her. Feeling violated again, she wondered. Will the deception in this frigging town ever end?

“Do you have her number? I think you should try to call her cell phone.” The prosecutor watched in silence as she dialed. She was surprised when Maude answered on the first ring.

“Hello boss lady. How are things in Arizona? Everything’s fine here in Freedom,” Maude sounded cheerful. She wondered why Cheyenne was

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calling. She wrongfully assumed she’d think she was at the restaurant. She hadn’t told her she was taking time off.

“How’s the fishing in Texas? Are you catching anything? I hate to ruin your vacation, but you need to get back here and move your stuff out of the apartment.” Cheyenne’s hand shook as she clung to the cell phone.

“What the hell are you talking about? Who said I was in Texas, bitch? Don’t you think for a minute you can come back to Freedom and make changes! You'd better find a good place to hide, because when I get there, I'm going to kick your classy ass all the way to Kansas!" Maude screamed defensively.

“Whatever you say, Maude, but you’re fired! I want your thieving ass off my property as soon as possible. Don't you threaten me or I’ll throw your fat butt in jail!" Cheyenne hung up the phone r before Maude could reply. She thought. How dare the stupid, ignorant bitch! Who does she think owns the place? She couldn’t believe Maude had warned her not to change things. What a joke she was.

“You need to go to the Sheriff’s Office and file a complaint. I wouldn’t mess around with her. She sounds crazy.” The prosecutor gave her the file. Thanking him for his advice, Cheyenne left and drove to the Woodward County Sheriff’s Office. Rowdy called the cell phone just as she was

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walking through the door. She ignored the call, not wanting to tell him what she’d just found out.

“I’m here to file a complaint for theft against my manager, Maude Barker.” The deputy made notes, taking down her information. He then entered the information on the computer and verified Maude’s previous criminal history. Cheyenne gave him the deposit slips, cancelled checks, and her notes. Seeing there was enough evidence for an arrest, he asked, “When will she’d be back in Freedom?”

“She’s somewhere in Texas. I told her to come right away. I want her out of the apartment. She understands I’m in town. I’ve been told she can be mean as hell. Will I need a restraining order?” Cheyenne worried Maude would follow through with her threats. She was a big woman who stood six foot tall and weighed over two hundred pounds. At five foot two and one hundred ten, Cheyenne was an easy target.

It was six o’clock when she returned to the lodge. She’d gone from the Sheriff’s Office to the Judge’s chambers to get the restraining order signed. She met Rowdy at the restaurant for a bite to eat and a glass of wine. Despite what had gone on between them, he was her only friend in Freedom. He filled her in about what had gone at the lodge during her absence. Cheyenne returned to the lodge alone around nine p.m., feeling assured Rowdy would be there for her if she needed him, she slept like a baby.

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Maude was back at the lodge early the next morning. Pounding on the door to her room, she woke Cheyenne with a start. “We’re here to move out! Your wish is our command, you bitch!”

“I’ll see you up at the restaurant in a few minutes” Cheyenne said sleepily through the closed door. When she was dressed, she called Rowdy at the ranch and asked him to come over. Although she had the restraining order, she didn’t trust the crazy woman. He warned, “Stay in your room until I get there. I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Rowdy seemed happy to help out.

Maude and her husband pulled a truck and trailer up to the apartment door. She looked like a wild, wounded mare carrying things out of the apartment. Stomping, she huffed and puffed, looking like she was about to explode. They loaded everything they could get onto the truck and trailer, taking everything that wasn’t nailed down. Cheyenne didn't try to stop her.

Seeing Rowdy arrive at the restaurant, Cheyenne was glad he was there. She walked in just in time to see Maude fill a black garbage sack to the brim with flour, sugar, baking pans, canned vegetables, kitchen utensils, a box of frozen steaks, and anything else within her reach. Maude was mad as a hornet helping herself to anything she wanted, Cheyenne thought about the expensive picnic table that disappeared weeks before. She assumed the thieving manager had taken it too.

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Maude suddenly stopped what she was doing and moved close. She put a finger in Cheyenne’s face and threatened. “What will you take to back off on the complaint? I can’t go to jail. It will kill my parents to hear about this.” She begged her to reconsider. Cheyenne would have no part of it. She held Maude’s parents in high regard and considered them first class citizens. There only daughter was obviously the black sheep of the family. “What proof do you have? I didn’t steal from you. I worked my ass off, and this is the thanks I get! This is bull shit and you know it. Drop the complaint?” Maude knew it would destroy her reputation if the word got out. “Let’s talk, Cheyenne. We need to get past this.”

Looking toward Rowdy for assurance, Cheyenne refused. “It’s out of my hands. The sheriff turned it over to the prosecutor. Get in touch with him. You’re guilty Maude! You know it. The facts prove you stole over ten thousand dollars. You’ve only been here a month. How could you? I can’t imagine how much I would have lost if I’d let it go on any longer, Get out of here! I never want to see you again. Tell it to the Judge!” Cheyenne screamed and pointed toward the door.

As she knew they would, Maude’s family pulled political strings, keeping her out of jail. Ordered to make restitution as a part of her sentence, the judge put her on probation warning her the next time he wouldn’t be so forgiving. Unable to hold her head up in Freedom, a few months later, Maude and her husband packed up and moved to South Dakota. Cheyenne

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received a check from the county for a fraction of the amount she’d stolen. It upset her that Maude remained free. She imagined she wouldn’t be her last victim. Maude would always be a thief. There’d be other victims. It was only a matter of time.

Thankful the incident was behind her, she wondered what lesson she’d learned from the incident. Vowing to move forward, Cheyenne intended to accept the first reasonable offer. Many wouldn’t understand it, but she still had faith.

Alone in the office lodge on a cold, windy March day in 2009, the phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, she didn’t recognize the area code.

She answered, “Cedar Creek Lodge, Cheyenne speaking.”

“Hello Cheyenne. It’s Doug Dawson. I saw your lodge for sale on eBay. I’m from Peace River, Alberta, Canada. I was by your place about a month ago. I met your manager Maude. She told me then the place wasn’t for sale. I was surprised to see the listing on eBay. Do you have a minute? I’m real interested in making you an offer. Your asking price is a little steep. I’ve got all cash, can we talk?” He trusted she’d be willing to listen.

“Maude didn’t say anything about your being here. I fired her for stealing. Of course, I’m interested.”

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“You’re lucky to be rid of her. I didn’t trust her. I own a large catering business here in Canada. I enjoy rodeo and the western way of life. It gets pretty cold here in the winter. I’m looking for a retreat in the States. Somewhere I can have horses and a small ranch, maybe an arena so I can rope.” Cheyenne liked his voice. He had a friendly demeanor.

“I’m asking eight hundred fifty thousand. What’s your offer?” Cheyenne didn’t want to appear desperate.

Sensing desperation in her voice, Doug said. “I imagine it hasn’t been easy for a woman to run a place like that. Would you consider seven hundred thousand?” He crossed his fingers. “I could be there next week with cash. We can close in less than two weeks. What do you say? Does it sound like an amount you might consider?”

She thought. Are you kidding! Thank you Jesus! Hell yes I’ll consider it.

“Cowboy, you just bought yourself a ranch. I’ll take the offer.” She may even have taken less. The proposal couldn’t have come at a better time. She couldn’t wait to get out of prison. She had done her time.

“How soon can you get here? I need to return to Arizona. I would want to close as soon as possible.” Cheyenne prayed it wasn’t a dream.

“Great, then we have a deal! I’ll see you in two weeks. We should be able to close by April first.” Doug was as excited as she was. He’d been

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looking a long time for a spread like hers. He hoped she wouldn’t change her mind. “I’ll wire the Freedom bank twenty-five thousand this afternoon. Consider it a non-refundable down payment. I don’t want anything to mess this up. I’m really excited!”

“I’ll call my banker and let him know the money’s on the way. Thanks Doug. We’ll make it work. I’ll see you in a couple weeks.” Cheyenne wondered what Jake would say when she told him she had a buyer. She couldn’t wait to get off the phone and call Rowdy with the news.

But first, she called Jake. He said funds would be available to her within twenty four hours after they received them at the bank. Thanking him, she hung up the phone and danced around the room. She couldn’t wait to start packing. There wasn’t a lot there to take. She stored the most treasured memories in her mind. Growing suddenly silent, she grabbed a jacket and walked outside. Sitting alone on the front porch bench, she thought. When I'm gone for good, will Freedom ever cross my mind?

Despite the hell she’d lived through, she feared she’d miss the good times. It would be hard to forget everything that had gone on there. She saw the sun going down in the west. Sitting quietly on the bench she watched the red birds and long eared jack rabbits in the thicket close by. Hearing a coyote yell, she smiled. She remembered many times when she and Rowdy had sat there together watching the storms blow through. Walking back

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inside, she picked up the phone. Happy tears rolled down her face as she dialed his number.

“Hello Rowdy. You’re the second one I’ve told. I just sold the lodge!"

“You’re kidding! That’s great news.”

“Uncle Jake knows all about it. The buyer wired money into my account this afternoon. It’s a done deal.”

“Good. I could use a loan!”

“Not this time cowboy! No more loans. When I leave this time, I won’t be coming back. We’ve made some good memories, but we sure have gone through a lot of bull shit. I suppose you’ll always be on my mind.”

“I know you’ll miss me.” He was sad to hear the news. There weren’t too many women around who would put up with his crap. She’d stayed longer than he’d expected. He gave her credit for a good try. He should have married her. It was too late now. He had no option but to wish her the best, and let her go.

“I won’t forget when we first met. I was in love with you then. Boy, how things changed. I guess I may still love you in a small way. But I’ll get over it.” Cheyenne was anxious to get going.

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She knew there’d be other men in her life. None would compare with Rowdy Harrison. He’d turned out to be a real jack ass. It was a good thing to say good bye to the past. She wanted to hang up the phone before she loved him again.

“I’ll be out of here when the check clears. Doug says we can handle everything by fax and mail. I won’t be coming back, Rowdy. This is good- bye.” This time there was a finality sound in her voice he’d never heard before.

Rowdy knew he would miss her. “I love you. You'll forget about me as soon as you hit Arizona. We need to move on with our lives. It won't be easy, but we will. Putting distance between us will help us move on. I may call you now and then and tell you I love you, but keep this in mind; I’ll only say it because I’m drunk. Go enjoy your life, Cheyenne. You deserve someone much better than me.” Rowdy stammered. The emotion he felt surprised him. He'd loved her more than he'd ever loved any woman. It would be tough to go on without her, but he’d keep on riding the trail and break more hearts along the way.

"I can’t believe you say you love me only because you’re drunk! If that’s the way it is, you can go straight to hell! I may have a tough time getting over your old blue eyes, but God knows I’ll try.” She thought. Why did I refer to the words of my favorite old country song? Sometimes I’m such a drama queen.

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“Whatever it takes, get over me Cheyenne, I’m worthless. I’ll never change. Go back to your perfect world. You didn’t belong in mine.” He wiped a tear from his eye. He walked across the room and opened the refrigerator taking out a Budweiser.

“Good bye Rowdy, I’ve got packing to do.” She hung up the phone and heard the wind howl outside. Suddenly feeling a chill she shuddered knowing her life would be much better somewhere far away from there.

Staying up past midnight she methodically packed her belongings into the black Chevy Avalanche. When the truck could hold no more, she looked around the apartment one last time. It had been her home for thirteen years, she thought, a real love nest. Tears filled her eyes. Her mind was suddenly alive again with memories. She'd lived through many good times and a lot of bad. She thought. The years I’ve spent trying to prove I’m an independent woman have taken a large toll. Finally falling into bed, she had no problem sleeping. Cheyenne was relieved to finally be going home for good. She’d been gone such a very long time.

The sound of the cell phone ring woke her at seven.

“Good morning! It’s just me! When are you leaving? Can I hitch a ride to the airport in Mooreland? I want to take the plane up to look for bulls. They took off a few days ago when Shane left the gate open. Can you drop me off

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on your way out of town?” Rowdy had a hangover. He’d drunk a fifth of vodka the night before trying to drown his sorrows.

“Why do you have to locate them by airplane? Wouldn’t you have better luck looking for them on horseback?” She thought. Why do I keep trying to change him? You can’t rope the wind!

“The boys were out all day yesterday. They had no luck. The airplane's the only way to go. What time can you pick me up?” Rowdy asked rubbing his aching head.

“I need to drive into Freedom to the bank. I haven’t showered yet. It will probably be around eleven before I’m ready to leave. I’ll pick you up then,” she yawned. “What will you do without me cowboy?” she asked and hung up before he could answer.

Hanging up the phone she worried how he’d survive without her. The airplane was old and needed repairs. Suddenly she had a vision of her father’s wrecked plane so many years before. Although she’d been ten when he died, she remembered every detail, like it was yesterday. She’d never liked it when Rowdy looked for bulls from the sky. He was a cautious pilot, but it always concerned her knowing how low he had to fly to find the runaways.

She was happy knowing they could close without her being present. Dressed and ready to get on the road, she looked around the apartment one

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last time. Walking outside Cheyenne went room to room locking the doors. She felt okay about leaving, knowing Rowdy would watch over things until Doug arrived. Satisfied things were in order she climbed into the Avalanche and drove up the hill toward the restaurant. Sadness overtook as she walked inside. She’d spent many hours there and had taken great pride in what she’d created. She had to remind herself, it was a good thing to be going. She hurried outside and locked the door behind her. She made her final trip into Freedom. When she arrived at the bank she saw the old banker in his usual position behind the teller’s window.

“Good morning, Jake. Has the money cleared? I’m here to close my account. I want to withdraw whatever funds are in it. I’ll take a cashier's check. It’s been nice knowing you. It’s doubtful I’ll see you again. There would be no reason for me to come back to Freedom. The new owners will be here to take over in a couple weeks. It's been good doing business with you. Take care.” She meant every word.

Jake slowly filled out a cashier check. Scrawling his signature, he pushed it toward her through the teller's window. "There you go. I'll close out your account. Do you need anything else? It’s been good knowing you. Good luck, Cheyenne." Jake walked around the counter behaving like he wanted a hug. Cheyenne put out a hand for a shake and he took it in two hands. He smiled. “Thanks again for your business I wish you the very best.”

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“I appreciate that. You’ve been a big help. Thanks for taking such good care of me. You’ll enjoy the new owner. He seems like a standup kind of guy.” She smiled wondering why she felt such a connection to the old man. Turning away, she walked out of the Freedom Bank for the last time. Jake hadn't always been her biggest supporter, but she doubted she’d ever forget him. She wondered how many more years he would maintain control of the little town, relieved to know she wouldn't have to stick around to find out.

She smiled and waved seeing him stare through the plate-glass window. Backing up the Chevy Avalanche she drove slowly down the quiet main street. She briefly considered rolling her windows down and yelling Adios Freedom! Instead she maintained her dignity, whispering quietly, “Good- bye, Freedom! It’s been quite an adventure. One I’ll never forget!”

Leaving town, she drove toward Rowdy’s ranch. Arriving there in ten minutes, she honked the horn. Waiting with the engine running, she saw him come through the door of the old farm house with a handful of beers. He staggered toward the truck.

"Thanks for the ride baby. Do me one more favor!”

"What is it Rowdy. What do you need now?” She guessed what it was. He could live without her, but he couldn’t live without the Grey Goose.

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"Stop by the liquor store in Woodward. I’m out of vodka. It’s early. You have plenty of time to bring a fifth back to the ranch before you leave town.” He looked at her with puppy dog eyes, and a foolish grin.

“No more favors cowboy! I’m not coming back this way. My business in Freedom is done. There’s no reason for me to return. I want to be in Amarillo before five. It wouldn’t hurt you to go without the Goose. Stop drinking! Can’t you see the booze is killing you?” She shook her head in disgust.

“I understand what you’re saying. I can’t change. I love you baby! Call me when you get to Amarillo!” They drove south on Highway 51 both feeling sad, yet excited about change.

Reaching the airport, she pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. They knew then it was truly over. Clinging to each other for several minutes, neither of them said a word. Rowdy was the first to break away. Fumbling to open the door, he got out and sauntered away. Looking back, he said, “You still look good to me, baby. We’re two of a kind you know. It’s not over yet, Cheyenne. Keep in touch. Call me. Maybe we'll meet up in Vegas for the Finals this year!”

She tasted the salty tears rolling down her face. “I love you too, Rowdy! Take care! Be careful, and don’t fly too low!” Frozen to the leather car seat; she didn't want to leave. He needed her whether, he knew it or not. Seeing

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him climb into the cock pit, she waved good-bye. She thought. Did I really make a difference in his life?

She'd known in the beginning he'd never change. He hadn’t thought he should. Nothing she'd ever said or done to try and change him had worked. She'd tried to make his life better, but her efforts had been in vain.

Seeing the plane taxi down the short runway, she brushed away the tears. The airplane rose into the blue sky, circled overhead, sputtered and turned east. Starting the truck, she drove south on Highway 50 anxious to make Amarillo before sundown.

She drove away determined not to be sad. She planned to always to look on the positive side. Passing the Welcome to Mooreland sign, she didn’t look back. Driving on, she was unaware the plane lost power and fell from the sky. Rowdy was in serious trouble. The plane backfired and then spiraled down fiercely out of control toward the ground. Striking the hard red earth with a bang, it exploded on impact. Rowdy felt no fear and no pain. It was as though he accepted it was his time to go. He didn’t cry out. Closing his eyes, he believed he’d finally found a way out of Freedom. Moments later, the cowboy was dead

She wondered as she drove. What was Freedom all about? Why was I there? Will I ever return?”

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Cheyenne had no answers. Waving to the truck drivers and farmers she passed on the narrow highway, she laughed out loud, unconsciously flashing a middle finger. She imagined they thought she'd lost her mind.

Feeling independent again, Cheyenne was happy for the first time in a very long time. Turning up the car radio, she sang the words to the old Janis Joplin song about Freedom. She sang loud hoping to wash the memories of the fun loving cowboy out of her mind. The singing seemed to help heal the pain in her heart. She didn’t understand why she was feeling such a loss. She was a self-reliant woman with the whole world in her hands. She could go anywhere now! Do anything. Why think about Rowdy? Her days of providing for the drunken, low-life cowboy were over.

Feeling a sudden sense of pure freedom, like she hadn’t felt in thirteen years, Cheyenne punched her foot down hard on the gas pedal. She drove fast, never looking back. Feeling a bit confused and slightly out of control, she cried and laughed at the same time. She thought. When one door closes, another door opens! Slowing down, Cheyenne crossed over the railroad tracks. Stopping at a blinking light in Mooreland, she looked left then turned right onto state Highway 412. Heading west, Cheyenne was free at last and thankful to finally be going home.

She paid no attention to the eastbound cop car and ambulance as they sped by with lights blazing and sirens blasting. Singing: La da la la. . .La da la la. . .Hey hey hey. . .Good-bye. She raced past a road sign just west of

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FAREWELL TO FREEDOM Anita Waggoner

Woodward, happy to see it was 174 miles to Amarillo. Realizing she would be there in a little over three hours, she wiped the tears from her eyes, and laughed out loud. “I may miss the good times, but unfortunately there were way too many bad! I’m done with you and Freedom too! There are better days waiting out there for me somewhere. I’ll get over you cowboy! Have a good life. Adios."

The End

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FAREWELL TO FREEDOM Anita Waggoner

About the Author

Anita Waggoner has written three novels, several short stories and screenplays. Farewell to Freedom is her first novel. It was originally published December 2010. The story was re-written and edited for self-publishing in January 2013. It’s a story based somewhat on Anita’s true life experiences. Names have been changed to protect the innocent. She’s written a screenplay based on her novel Farewell to Freedom. It’s coming soon to theatres near you.

Anita is a maverick who has shown, time after time, how a woman can survive in a tough man’s world. A strong, independent individual, she has accomplished much using her own judgment and abilities, combined with lots of hard tedious work. She has a great foundation, and the ability to show the reader how to overcome hurdles, and disappointments in their own lives. Her character and tenacity are paramount. She invites the reader to wonder how to survive when all plans fail.

http://www.farewelltofreedom.net [email protected]

Check out Anita Waggoner’s Other Novels!

Charleston Cheat -- You can’t put it down. Great Story! Released June, 2012 The Ranch at Coyote Springs –- A story about friendship! Released December 2012

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