I focus on getting the key off the ring. “There’s a general store back at the lodge. Dinner’s from five to eight in the cantina.” She tilts her head. “And how do I get back to the lodge?” “You walk, honey. It’s called roughing it. You don’t like it, you can leave.” “I plan to,” she snaps. “You know, for a cowboy, you surprisingly do not have a way with words, or women, for that matter.” I grunt. “See,” she replies, smug. “My point proven.”
