Milked For The Cowboy

I dragged myself across the Montana Territory, dirt-caked and defiant, swearing this wild land would be mine alone. Back East, failure clung like damp rot-empty beds, shattered hopes, isolation my only faithful shadow. No man would tether me again. Or so I lied to myself.Then he appeared in the hay-scented barn, musk of fresh milk and worn leather thick in the air. This hardened ranch hand, herdin...