"You jackass," she hissed. "I coulda been decapitated."
"What?" the beefy redhead asked, as if innocent of all charges.
Sally shot him a murderous glance. "I saw you gig Tucker's butt with your spurs."
Rob laughed. "How did I know he'd turn and run into the trees?"
"Look, you blowhole, you been on my case since we started this drive, and I been takin' it, thinkin' that you'd fergit I was a girl and figure out that I know how to work cattle." She slowly straightened, holding her side and wincing.
"But yer so purty," he told her in a mocking voice. "Why you out on a cattle drive instead of sittin' by a pool?"
The freckled blonde rolled her eyes. "Stop makin' fun o' me. I'm here 'cause I belong on a horse, chasin' cattle."
"Yeah, mebbe you figure you can chase a husband down the same way."
Sally's eyes narrowed. "I'll have to find a man worth chasin' first."
She turned her horse toward the herd, then stopped and looked over her shoulder. "And if you ever touch my horse again, I'll gut yer ass and serve you with cole slaw."
Pressing her leg against Tucker's side, she loped him down to the open field and took her place beside the stream of Herefords that were strolling home.
"Oh yeah?" Rob yelled after her. "You and what army, ya skinny, freckle-faced, smelly ole tomboy! Any man who'd want you might as well poke a rattler with a stick!"
Watching her ride away, he told his horse, "You watch, Whisky. I'm gonna marry that gal someday."
The End.
