Free Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 10 by Various Authors Page A

positions.
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TUMBLEWEED
    by S.A. Meade

    I had been a drifter all of my life until I came to his ranch. He didn't know that I was watching his strong and raw movements from the porch of his ranch house. Everyone in town said he was a mystery but I knew, in that moment when he was locked in this powerful dance with the big sorrel, that I had come home.
    ~ Audrey

    genre: contemporary
    tags: cowboy; hurt/comfort; bed & breakfast; invading ex; aborted road trip
    word count: 15,545
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    TUMBLEWEED
    by S.A. Meade
    I kicked the tire.
    It didn't help any but it made me feel better about being stranded on a long stretch of road somewhere in the White Mountains of Arizona. At least there was green grass on the side of the road and trees. If the tire had blown a couple of hours before, I would've been in the desert— not a great place to be stuck in July.
    I opened the trunk, shoved stuff aside and reached for the spare. It didn't look all that great, but at least it would get me to the next town, hopefully before the afternoon storm broke.
    Cars whizzed by, Indians from the Reservation, ranchers in dusty trucks, RVs followed by a slow stream of cursing drivers. Friday afternoon was prime time for arrivals from the desert, everyone seeking refuge from the will-sapping heat of the laughably named Monsoon.
    I wrenched the car up onto the jack and hoped the nuts weren't screwed on too tight. In spite of being up in the mountains, it was still a warm afternoon. I pushed my hair out of my eyes and set about undoing the damn nuts. It's all very well fixing a tire to a car with a power tool but it doesn't help the poor bastard who has to try and fix things with a bit of metal on a roadside. It was just as well I didn't have to be anywhere anytime soon. In fact, I didn't have to be anywhere, full stop.
    I managed to get the damn tire off. Sweat made my eyes sting. A cloud of small, irritating insects crowded around me and I swatted at them, getting more pissed off by the minute. I tossed the tire into the bracket and set about putting the new one on, as clouds swallowed the sun and the wind rose, bringing with it the scent of rain. If I was lucky, I could be on my way before the storm rolled in. There was a campsite not far from Show Low. That would do. Where I went after that was anyone's guess.
    "Need a hand with that?"
    I'd been so busy I hadn't noticed that a truck had pulled up on the shoulder behind me. The truck's occupant was a rancher type wearing the regulation cowboy uniform of Wranglers, neatly starched twill shirt and battered, broad-brimmed hat. I felt a bit of a slob in my tired jeans and dirt smudged tee-shirt.
    "Nah, I think I've got it, thanks." I tightened the last bolt and stood up. My back ached from being hunched over for so long. "But thanks for the offer. I appreciate it."
    He leaned against his truck and glanced up at the sky. "It's best not to be caught out in the storms up here."
    "I guessed as much." I tossed the wrench into the trunk and rearranged my worldly belongings over the tire well. I wasn't altogether too easy with him being there, watching me. If we'd been on a less busy road, I would've been very uneasy. Not that anything about him triggered any 'bad-news' thoughts. His dark eyes were warm, framed by fine creases that spoke of a life spent outdoors.
    "Going camping?"
    It was easy enough to guess, with my tent rolled into a neat bundle behind everything else. "I was thinking of stopping at Show Low Lake for the night."
    The rancher glanced at the lowering clouds. "Gonna be pretty miserable."
    I slammed the trunk shut. "I'm used to it."
    He shrugged. "No showers on that site and with it being Fourth of July…"
    "I'll chance it. It's too late to look for somewhere else." I could've stayed in a motel but it had been a long while since my last job and my bank