Each night she fell asleep with the "45" under her pillow. It was uncomfortable but it was reassuring. The gun was her magic talisman, her protector, her good luck charm and she was glad that her brother had given it to her.

When the puppy woke her, needing to go to the bathroom, she would tuck it into her waistband. If she ate at a restaurant, she put it in her purse. When she drove she placed it in the glove compartment and locked it. She didn't know she would feel such a sense of safety knowing that she had it, and she was grateful that brother had given it to her.

On the third day she reached the outskirts of Colorado Springs. She'd made an appointment ahead of time and booked a room at a hotel the receptionist had recommended.

Okay, she told herself, this is it. She walked the puppy and put her in the truck, then walked into the modest, but comfortable room. She put down her suitcase, then left, locking it behind her.

Her appointment was for the next day. She went to a pharmacy and picked up the supplies they'd recommended: a heating pad, sanitary pads, and a bottle of Tylenol. "You'll be able to resume normal activities in a day or so, but you'll be feeling some discomfort at first. Rest and take it easy and you'll be just fine."

She went to a steakhouse and ordered a nice thick steak, medium rare. With this came a fat baked potato and a green salad. For dessert she had a slice of cake dripping with strawberries. What she did not eat she took to go for the puppy.

It was a bright sunny morning when she woke up, not needing her alarm. She dressed and put the puppy in the truck, promising her she'd feed her later. This was only a preliminary to the real thing. They wouldn't do the procedure without doing an exam on her first.

Planned Parenthood was bright and cheery. She saw a variety of people there, pregnant women, a few with their partners, teenaged girls who might be seeking contraceptives or there for an abortion like her.

The medical assistant took her to an exam room, asking her to disrobe and giving her a soft flannel gown to put on. She took her temperature and her blood pressure, then asked her routine questions like when her last period had been. She patted her hand before she left her, telling her the doctor would be there soon, and Dr. Mary was very sweet and understanding.

The doctor was not what she had expected. She was not much older than her and had long blond hair that she wore in a pony tail. She was brisk and professional though and had a friendly manner that Anicka found reassuring.

"Tell me, Amy," she said, "why are you seeking an abortion?" It was a logical question and Anicka was glad she had asked because she needed to talk to someone.

She was a little startled to hear her alias but felt reassured at the same time. "My husband hit me, hard, right after we got back from our honeymoon. I don't know why, I really don't, and I still can't remember anything about what might have happened. I knew I was pregnant, I was going to tell him, but I've made sure that he hasn't found out." She wiped the tears from her eyes, she hadn't intended to cry but she was.

"I'm so sorry," Dr. Mary said, "I'd like to say this was unusual, but it's not. So, how do you feel about your pregnancy now?"

"I want it out of me, there is no way I could love this child. I'm single, I'm only twenty-two years old, how am I going to be able to raise a child on my own? Even worse, every time I even think about being pregnant, I get angry. If he found out, he'd try to take the child away from me. I couldn't ask for child support, I don't want him to know where I am. No, it's not the right time for me to have a child. I want an abortion."

Though Dr. Mary had heard similar stories, she was affected by each one. "Get dressed and go out to the front desk and they'll schedule you. Good luck."

Anicka was lucky, she could come in the next day because someone had cancelled. She left the clinic feeling full of hope.

It wasn't easy, but she was able to bear it. The puppy had been pee pad trained so she only got up once or twice to let her out. She ordered her meals from Instacart when she felt like eating. The day after the procedure she felt much better, just a little cramping and the bleeding was no more than her period would be.

When she left the motel she felt much lighter, she felt free. The last tie to her husband had been severed. There would be no more babies until she was ready. The clinic placed an implant in her arm which would be good for five years.

"Now," she told the puppy as she pulled out of the motel parking lot, "now we go to Montana and see if we can find out what happened to Benito. We're done with Texas forever, we're never coming back.

In Denver she acquired a winter wardrobe. She explained to an amused clerk that she was from Texas and moving to Montana and had no idea what she'd need. The amount of clothing and other merchandise the clerk recommended was overwhelming, but she bought it all. Better to have too much than not enough, she reasoned.

The puppy had grown and needed a bigger harness. She also bought another leash and a month's supply of adult food. She bought her dog mittens but skipped the sweater, she wanted her to grow out a thick winter's coat. She had a double coat of fur, and she should be able to acclimate. If it turned out that she needed a sweater, she'd get one.

The drive through Colorado was reminding her a little of Texas. There was no snow yet, so she saw a lot of wildlife, antelope, deer, an occasional coyote and lots of ravens. It made the reality of what she was doing hit hard, this was no longer a plan, or a suggestion, or an idea.

She was no longer Anicka Lansing, she was Amy Perez, and she was on the run from someone who may or not be following her.

Had he ever loved her? The way he treated her was not love. She did not need that kind of love, she did not want it. She wanted to be married again—someday. The next time, she promised herself, she would make a greater effort to find out just who that person was, and she would ask him that important question: "Have you ever hit a woman"

She woke up and heard the heat going and realized how cold it was in the room. Tomorrow night she would wear flannel pajamas she promised herself, winter was coming.

She put on her jeans and one of her new sweaters, wool socks, and her boots. She tucked her pistol into the back of her jeans and pulled on her coat. "Okay, puppy," she told her, "Let's take you out so you can go to the bathroom. I'm going to have to get you spayed, I hate to do it but it's a necessity."

There was frost sparkling on the rooftops and on the asphalt parking lot. It was still dark out and there were a few stars left in the sky. This was winter, she thought, we don't have this in Austin. She was almost reluctant to go back inside but she was cold, and the puppy was fussing because she wanted to get back inside where it was warm.

She ate a big breakfast, her young body had recovered from the abortion and her sunny nature, nearly killed by the ordeal with her ex-husband, had

She no longer felt haunted by what had happened to her, on the contrary, she felt safe which she would not had she remained in Texas. Each day she looked forward to loading her things in the truck, then hitting the road with her dog as her only companion.

She had reached Wyoming, and she could see the beginning of winter. Her brother had put all terrain tires on her truck and with the four-wheel drive could navigate most roads. That night she bought a bunch of Montana newspapers and perused them for help wanted ads. She looked on the computer for ranches in Montana and gasping a little when she saw how big the Yellowstone was.

If Benito's body was on the ranch, it would be impossible for her to find it. His body could have been left to the elements, his bones could have been carried off by animals. It would be like finding a needle in a haystack.

Maybe Benito was still alive, but if that was the case, why hadn't he contacted his family? She had all sorts of questions, and none of the answers sounded hopeful.

The cold was increasing her appetite, she ate a big dinner, leaving on a few scraps for the puppy. Thank heaven she was a good cook, that might help her find an in. She also didn't mind hard work and if a stall cleaner was the best that she could find, that would be fine with her. Maybe she should take a few years off her age, she was twenty-two but could easily pass for nineteen.

All along she had been trying to come up with a strategy but was having no luck. Maybe she could throw herself on the mercy of someone who might take pity on her. She would use her looks if she had to, all the girls in her family possessed her mother's Mexican looks, and her mother still was attractive even though she was in her fifties. She wouldn't sleep with anyone, though, she still had that much pride.

Back at the ranch…

Rip Wheeler was pissed. Their stall cleaner had just quit but he couldn't really blame the kid. Dex had just received an offer to work as a hand at another ranch, and would finally get to do what he'd really wanted to do: be a cowboy.

Rip understood this and gave the kid a good recommendation. The kid had been a hard worker, never complaining about having to deal with shoveling shit. He'd been a quick study and had learned how to handle the horses, how to feed and water them, and his riding skills had improved enough for him to be out with the crew herding the cows.

He was going to miss him, but most importantly he needed to hire another hand, soon. Maybe this time he would try to pick someone who wasn't looking for more than just doing their job. No hand was ever hired that didn't want to cowboy eventually, but this time is was anything but convenient for the ranch.

They needed a shit shoveler. He put an ad in the paper just in case word of mouth was not quick enough. One of the hands could cover if it was for a few days but any longer than that would result in complaints.

"Okay, puppy, this is it," said Anicka. They had just pulled up the entrance of the ranch, but she was having trouble finding the courage to go any further. She looked up at the sign, "Yellowstone Dutton Ranch" it read. She could see the barn and the outbuildings, if she looked in another direction she could see the house.

Jesus, she thought, then put her truck in drive. She hadn't called or notified anyone that she was coming, but maybe that was best. She was about to take the biggest chance of her life, leaving her husband was nothing compared to what she planned to do.

She drove up to the big white barn that had a big black "Y", no doubt for Yellowstone, on the front. She snapped the leash on the puppy's collar, and they got out of the truck and looked for someone to talk to.

"Mary, Mother of God," she thought, "I know I'm not a very good Catholic and I can't promise you that will change. This may be the only chance I have to find out what happened to my brother. Can you please help me out, I'd be really grateful, and so would my Mom and the rest of my family."

She saw a figure walking toward her and she took a deep breath. Okay, puppy, she told her, here goes nothing.