He pulled his truck to a stop in an open area used for parking near the dining room.

“Jesus,” he said, shaking his head. “A dude ranch.”

Henry sat for quite a while, looking at folks coming and going, some with kids, some without, and not quite being able to muster the gumption to get out of his truck. He looked again at the gas gauge.

“Can I help you?” a friendly voice came through his open window.

Henry, a little surprised, looked up to see a young, clean-cut college kid, dressed in wrangler jeans, a long sleeve heavy cotton shirt and well worn felt cowboy hat smiling in on him. “What?” He said to the smiling face.

“Can I help you?” the kid repeated, still smiling.

“Um,” Henry was still trying to figure a way out of his predicament, but with nothing coming to mind… “You need any help around here?”

“Help? I don’t know for sure. I guess you’d need to talk with Jessie about that.”

“Yeah,” Henry pulled a small piece of paper out of his pocket, unfolded it and read the name from it. “Jessie. I reckon that’s who I need to see.”

“Hold on,” the kid said, stepping out in front of Henry’s truck and calling to another college age kid dressed almost exactly like he was who was walking toward the dining room. “Hey Jake, you seen Jessie anywhere?”

“Out back, working on the corral,” Jake yelled without stopping or looking toward the truck.

The kid came back to the window. “Just follow that path there, around back, past the bunkhouse. Ask for Jessie.”

“Much obliged.”

The kid nodded, then turned and walked toward the dining room himself. “Good luck,” he called without looking back.

Henry looked down at the gas gauge, tapped it one last time to see if it would move, then finally shut the truck off when it didn’t. He sat for several seconds shaking his head in disbelief that he was actually going to go through with it, forced the door open, and started down the little path that led past the bunkhouse and toward the corrals. He hadn’t gone far toward the corrals when he saw a small woman, dark from the sun wearing a large, weathered cowboy hat made from palm. She was pushing a wheelbarrow full of manure; sweat dripping off the end of her nose and strands of hair that had escaped her long ponytail were sticking to the side of her face. From a distance, Henry thought she was just a small man, but on getting closer he realized his mistake and briefly removed his hat.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he nodded, as she pushed past. “I’m looking for a fellow named Jessie.”

Jessie looked up, but didn’t stop. “I’m Jessie. What can I do for you?”

From the first time Henry saw Jessie’s name on the crumpled little paper way back in the café, he had just assumed the name belonged to a man. Now, not only had he felt as though he’d just made a fool of himself, he was about make a bigger fool of himself by asking her for a job. He didn’t know if he could go through with it and seriously considered simply turning and walking away. In fact, he was just about to do that very thing when she interrupted his train of thought by asking, “Looking for someone a little more masculine, Mr….” Jessie called as she pushed the wheelbarrow toward a ramp that jutted out over a manure spreader.