She didn’t remember how she got to Chad so quickly, but before she knew it she had shoved him aside, taken hold of the rope and started walking slowly toward the colt, giving him slack as she did. The colt let her approach him, even as he was shaking with his feet splayed apart, sweat and foam running from his body in rivulets to be taken by the dry earth around him. She was quiet, not even murmuring soothing words, until she was close to him and he could turn his glazed eyes to her and smell her. She said his name, and touched him gently on his neck, while loosening the noose even more. After a few minutes, when his trembling had almost stopped and his breathing was less labored, she slipped the loop over his head in one smooth motion and dropped it to the ground. She had raised this colt; she was the first human he saw after he entered the world early one morning. Yet his eyes were still rimmed in white, and he blew hard at her as he sidled away to rejoin the herd.

She didn’t look at Chad as she left the corral, leaving his rope in the dirt. She didn’t even turn around when he yelled her name. “Jessie!” He shouted as she stormed toward the house. “It was just for fun! I was only…” and then he had to duck because she threw a rock at him, slinging her arm back and letting loose with all the muscle and anger she had. He moved quickly aside, surprise and anger changing his face from the jovial mask he usually wore.

She continued walking, and once in the house went straight upstairs to their bedroom (her bedroom, now) and picked up his fancy dress boots, his jeans, shirts, belt and, bringing them all downstairs, opened the screen door, and flung them onto the porch. By now Chad had reached the house but stopped once he saw her, and for perhaps the first time in his life had the sense to keep his mouth shut.

Out came his toothbrush, landing squarely in the dirt at his feet, his comb, mirror, shaving kit, aftershave, and mouthwash. Next were his CD’s, some of the cases cracking as they hit the porch, dirty clothes, his custom black felt cowboy hat, which joined the toothbrush in the dirt, and finally a fancy western saddle that he claimed he won in a poker game. Even though it weighed over half of what Jess did, she managed to heave it down the stairs of the porch, where it landed upside down in the dust before him.

She stood on the porch, breathing hard, glaring at him and visibly trying to control herself. “I can’t fire you because I have everyone hired for this next season, and I need you around to do the work. You can stay in the bunkhouse. And from now on you can call me Ms. King.”