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Ellen scratched at her knee where the mosquito had bitten her. She stared at the mountains encircling the ranch and at Dexter who sat sleeping in his camp chair, his mouth wide open and snoring. The air was heavy and humid from the passing of the thunder shower.

 “I hate this place.” Ellen said aloud to the border collie who looked up at her expectedly. The remains of her breakfast lay nearby. Flies were walking all over it and the congealed bacon fat on her plate kept the dog interested. A thin tendril of dust kicked up from the wheels of a 1977 Pontiac Bonneville coupe deluxe convertible as it careened and bounced wildly by the ranch on the only road out of here to Lewistown Montana. The neighbor’s radio blared an old Jimmy Buffet tune. Ellen cocked her ear to listen….

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