15 year old, Calgery Mills lay in her bed looking at her celling she had painted a seen on the roof for her to look at on late nights. Her celling was covered in horses and cattle all bearing the same hip brand of a Rocking Bar C. She looked at the wall clock and it read 12:00 p.m. A sly smile encased her lips that sat upon her taned face rolling over she carefully put her bare feet on the hardwood floor and went to her closet grabbing a burlap feed sack. Calgery carefully ran down stairs and took some buiscuts and chesse out of the ice box and walked to the screen door and going out side onto the poorch. She stood there a second alert and wide eyed scanning the land scape. A shape appeared over the small bluff between her and the barn. Slowly it loped up toward her and looked up at her its white fangs shimmered in the moon light as it neared Calgery she squatted down and taking one of her biscuts out of her bag and a ole yellow black mouth curdog came out of the darkness. Calgery got up and ran toward the barn the spurs of her boots jangeling in her hand. The ole cow dog was running right beside her matching each step in sync.

Calgery went into the feed room and sat her sack down she took out a pair of denim jeans and a ole long sleve shirt. She pulled the jeans up under her white night dress and pulled the dress over her head showing the toned mucels on her back. Her hound came into the feed room and began to sniff around as her mistress bottoned up her shirt and pulled on her boots. Then a growl escaped the dogs mouth and Calgery took a Colt pistol out of a saddle holster and went around the side of the stack of feed bags and...

"What the hell are you doin' back there?" She asked Bleavins the pistol trained on him.

"What are you doin' pointing a gun at me?" He asked her.

"I figuered you was them damned 'coons that been gettin' in the feed. Who are you anyway?"

"Jimmy Bleavins. Who are you?"

"I'm Calgery Mills. And you Mr. Bleavins are tresspassing on my land."

Bleavins chocked on a laugh at the girls notion.

"Well Calgery I'm quite sure you are too young to own this land. And much to young to have a pistol like that much less abel to shoot it."

"You wanna try me, son?"

"Your just a girl you ain't got the nerve."

"Just as much as you. So either you tell me why your here or there'll be a bulit from a 32 Colt right between your eyes."

"Bull Shit! That ain't no 32!"

Calgery gave him a look as she cocked the hammer.

"Get up and tell me what the hell you want!" she said pushing to to his scull.

"Fine I've been looking for work and decided to stay here for the night."

"Much better. Your lucky I found you and not HIM."

"Your daddy?"

"Naw, he ain't my daddy."

"Your step daddy."

"Yeah." She lowered her gun and put it back in its holster and called her dog back to her.

"I kown how that is." Bleavins said.

"So how old are you?" Calgery walked to the stall of a blue roan.

"16. How 'bout you?"

"15. You got a horse?"

"Yeah I put him out in that pasture so he could rest."

"Aha. So yer lookin' for work I'm lookin' for help."

"So you what am I gonna be doin'?"

"What ever I tell ya." She put the bit in to her roan mares mouth and road out into the pasture with Bleavins budded up behind her.

"What are we goin' to do?"

"Find my cows is what we're doin'."

And so they rode out around the pasture untill three in the morning.

"Hey you stay out here for the night I'll see you in the mornin'."

"Good night Calgery."

"Night Bleavins." Calgery left to and ran to her room.