Disclaimer: I don't own TCM but I do claim my own original characters and plot
Amanda sighed in both exhaustion and irritation. The hot Texas sun beat unmercifully down on the parched earth and caused disorienting waves of heat to rise from the cracked asphalt. She cursed herself for opting to remove her Jeep's hardtop in order to better "enjoy the heat" her Alaskan upbringing had deprived her of. All she really wished for now was some air conditioning. Well, that and a working GPS. She'd lost her signal quite a ways back down the road and was now solely relying on her memories from 20 years ago to get her where she needed to be. The recollections of an unruly five-year-old certainly weren't the most reliable of road maps.
She took some solace in the fact that she believed she was somewhat on the right track. She'd passed a sign about two miles back announcing that she'd finally entered Travis County. It certainly wasn't like she remembered from way back when her family would come visit her great-aunt Felicity during the summers she was out of school. It had once been a bustling, lively place but now only seemed vacant and depressing. She vaguely recalled once her great-aunt mentioning to her mother once that the meat packing plant, the areas only real industry and gainful employer, would be closing up shop. Most of the residents, great-aunt Felicity included, had counted on the plant as a means of income. So, when it went out of business most of the people who lived in the area also moved on to greener pastures. Her great-aunt had eventually ended up retiring to a small Floridian town full of other older people while the rest of the family had headed back up north to Alaska. Felicity, though, had refused to completely give up the family homestead back in the Lonestar State saying the old place held too many fond memories.
It wasn't until great-aunt Felicity's passing a couple weeks ago that anyone had realized that the woman still even owned the property. Amanda's father had shrugged the place off as a loss, most likely in a state of disrepair having remained uninhabited for so long, and had wanted to contact a realtor as soon as possible to try to unload the place before the taxes came due again. Amanda had protested, though. She had wonderful childhood memories of her great-aunt and the house she'd spent so many summers in. She'd begged her father to wait before listing the property, to give her a chance to check it out first. Maybe, just maybe, she'd pleaded, it wouldn't be as bad as he predicted. Reluctantly, he'd eventually agreed to allow her to scope the place out first. It wasn't a guarantee they'd keep the place but it was better than nothing.
Amanda had been excited at first at the prospect of a road trip. She loved to drive and she loved to explore. Now, however, she wasn't so sure as the road she was traveling suddenly came to a fork and she had no idea which way she was supposed to go. Cursing under her breath, she slammed the Jeep into park and reached for her phone which she had tossed onto the dash after it had become apparent the thing was about as useless as a paperweight this far from civilization. Just as she figured, the words "No Service" glared at her mockingly from the phone's screen. She tossed it back where it had been.
"Well," she huffed. "This is just great."
She eyed both sections of road leading away from where she sat sweltering in the Jeep. Nothing but dirt and dust and shimmering heat for as far as the eye could see in both directions. She briefly considered forgetting the whole thing and turning the Jeep around and heading back the way she'd come. She could go to Austin or Fort Worth, maybe spend a couple weeks there taking in the local scene but she felt she owed it to her great-aunt not to let the homestead go without a fight. She honestly didn't know what she wanted to do anymore. She was hot and sweaty and lost and miserable. Thankfully, she didn't have to dwell on her dilemma too long as her thoughts were interrupted by the whoop of a siren as a police car pulled in behind her with its lights flashing.
She watched the lawman, apparently the sheriff, climb casually out of the car through her rear view mirror as she began to dig her license and registration from the glovebox. As she watched the man grow closer, she felt some relief. This could be a blessing in disguise, not that she wanted and/or needed a ticket on her driving record. But, she reasoned, if anyone could help her with directions, it would surely be him. She smiled as he came up beside her door, her hand already extending her documents out to him. "Good morning, Sheriff."
"Mornin'", he eyed her appraisingly as he took the papers from her hands. "What's a pretty little thing like you doin' stopped all the way out here in the middle of nowhere?"
"I think I may have taken a wrong turn somewhere." She gave a self deprecating chuckle, "Maybe you can help me. Do you know where the old Hartford place is?"
"Hartford?" The sheriff looked at her suspiciously and hawked a wad of tobacco spit onto the ground. "Ain't nobody been livin' out that way for years, missy. What business you got out there?"
"My great-aunt, Felicity, she passed away recently," Amanda explained. "Our family thought she'd done away with the place years ago but it turns out she held onto it. My dad wants to sell it but I thought I owed it to aunt Felicity to at least come out and see if it's still habitable. She was a great woman and she loved it out here, you know?"
"Well, now," the sheriff spat again and handed her paperwork back. "That's right noble of you. Family is the most important thing you got and for what it's worth, I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thank you, sir. I appreciate that."
He stared at her, seemingly contemplating something for a moment before continuing. "I reckon I can show you how to get to your Auntie's place. You can follow me out there if you want. It ain't much farther."
"Yes, thank you." She smiled at him. "I really, really appreciate it. Thank you...I'm sorry Sheriff. I didn't catch your name."
"You can call me Hoyt. Ain't no trouble, missy. Hell," he grinned, "We're practically neighbors."
Without another word, the sheriff tipped his hat and made his way back to his patrol car and climbed inside. Once he had pulled out around her and started down the right fork in the road, Amanda had fired the Jeep back up and followed the cloud of dust and dirt being kicked up by the patrol car's tires, hoping for the best.