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The Wild Ride

Set in the Old West

A Love Story Written by Willow Windsong




“Lizard lips!”

“Hippo hips!”

Daffney’s head whipped backwards as if the cowboy had physically slapped her. How dare he! There was absolutely nothing hippo-ish about her hips!

The disaster at hand wasn’t all her fault. She couldn’t help it if his horses didn’t know not to trot out of their yard – rather their pasture - even when a fence pops wide open. And it was quite a large pasture at that – about two-thousand acres’ worth.

In her humble opinion, their master was being a total jerk – stubborn, unrelenting and unwilling to recognize that she hadn’t purposely released his so-called herd, rather had simply contributed to an accident.

Teen ‘hot behind the wheel Eddie Holder’ had plowed into the fence line separating the two ranches last night amid a wild drunken rampage. His gang of four had seen fit to behead citizens’ mailboxes for a solid three miles before the law was notified, some of the mailboxes along the strip still standing as the swinger missed his target.

Once Sheriff Silverhawk ensued, Eddie made a run for the roses – crossing the finish line by plowing into the fence row, his red sport’s car mangled along the passenger side where one strand of barbwire had clipped loose and wrapped around the fender.


After a wrecking service had pulled the knot of twisted metal from the fence, a large gaping hole had remained.

Daffney’s attempt to repair the fence had been noble. She had arose before dawn to make the repairs only to find the fencing in worse shape that she’d remembered at two a.m. this morning. It was only sensible – cutting away the remaining dangling barbwire of the five-strand fence so that the new wire could be attached in a straight, tight line.

Unfortunately, the large herd of horses had seen the opening and she had barely managed to escape with her life as they had stampeded towards her. One toe of her new cowboy boots had been smashed to smithereens and only now she was able to thank her lucky stars that the store had been out of her size and the sale’s lady had talked her into three sizes too large.

She continued to rake a heated look down Clay Collin’s long lean form. His hippo comment had been way out of line. If anything her hips were on the scrawny side.

Silence; blessed silence, Clay mused taking in a deep breath of fresh air. The woman hadn’t shut up in the last twenty minutes. Finally, a space of peace.

How could something so beautiful be so dumb? If she had a brain, she’d definitely take it out and play with it – not a doubt in his mind. Flaming red hair, emerald-colored eyes, skin as creamy and unflawed as a baby’s cheek – a knock-out figure, but unfortunately, no brain.


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