Burnt Steak [2017] [P/UP]

☆1☆

I panted heavily under the blisterin' Arizona sun. Sweat was drippin' down my skin in waves an' the wide brim of my hat did little t' cool me down.

Pullin' my windswept brown hair into a bun, I tucked it under the hat, then stuck it right back onto my head.

Exhaling deeply, I stopped my task an' rolled up my denim sleeves above my elbows before goin' right back t' work.

If mama were here she would call me "indecent", showin' my legs like I was in my knee length skirt an' my cleavage peakin' outta my shirt, but she wasn't here and I was hot.

My arms were aching an' after a few more minutes I stopped an' stepped back t' look at my hard work.

Before me was a water pump an' beneath it a bucket that was only about half full of warm, dusty lookin' water.

"Shoot..." I cursed. That was nearly three hours work right there. "This drought'll be the death of us."

With a sigh I grabbed the bucket an' began t' make my way back across the small stretch of desert that separated the well from the rest of my family's ranch.

I was greeted by thunderin' hoofbeets on dusty ground as Charlotte came t' meet me.

Charlotte was the name I had given my horse. She was a beautiful brown and white dappled mare, though lately her hide was losin' it's luster an' even though I gave most of my provisions to her, you could already start seein' her ribs.

"Hey baby girl, how ya doin'?" I smiled, rubbin' her nose as she came to a halt in front of me. Immediately her head dipped t' the bucket in my hands.

I let her have a long drink before I took the stale water away.

"I know you're thirsty, but you gotta leave me some too, girl." I laughed at her attempts t' get the rest of the water, but the reality of the situation was grim.

My older brother Clyde left the ranch with my mama an' my three little triplet brothers, Eric, Mikey, and Vinnie about a year ago in order t' go look for better land an' work down in Texas. They took most'a the cattle too.

Me? I stayed right here in Arizona with my horse, one old cow an' her calf, a hen, an' the ranch my papa had built for mama with his own two hands.

It was small, but special, with a wraparound porch and a swingin' bench by the front door. There was supposed t' be an upstairs for us kids, but papa died before he could make it.

The year had been 1865. Papa was fightin' for the Union even though we lived in Confederate territory. He died in the war. Clyde was seven, mama was pregnant with the triplets, an' I was only three years old.

That was a long time ago, though. The current year was 1885. I was twenty-three years of age an' takin' care of the ranch all my own. The work was hard, but I liked it.

Settin' down the bucket'a water on the porch, I removed my hat an' followed Charlotte's lead, dunkin' my face in t' take a good, long drink.

It tasted like rust.

I sighed and slicked my wet hair back, fealin' my stomach growl for something more than just water.

"C'mon, Charlotte." I called t' my horse. "We're goin' t' town."

☆☆☆

Walkin' into the town's saloon was eventful t' say the least.

A tall blonde man lookin' positively green ran outta the swingin' doors an' bumped into my shoulder before collapsin' on the dusty ground an' vomiting up whatever was makin' him sick.