STUCK WITH THE COWBOY

Samantha At five o'clock in the evening, I stood in front of Clover World Airport in this small, dusty town that had once belonged to my late grandmother and now, apparently, belonged to me. A sudden breeze whipped across the tarmac, nearly snatching the hat off my blonde hair, so I pressed it down firmly with both hands. The air smelled like dry earth and jet fuel, the kind of nowhere smell that made my stomach twist. It felt like a lifetime ago, but it was only last week that I had been living my real life in the city, posting outfits, meeting brands, and pretending everything was perfect. Then came the phone call from the lawyer, that my grandmother who had passed away fr years left me her farm. My parents didn't just suggest I come here. They practically kidnapped me and put me on the plane. My name is Samantha Bianca Johnson. I'm twenty-one, and back in Blueview Country, I'm a pretty big deal, a blogger, a fashionista, and the daughter of one of the richest men in the country. But standing here on this cracked sidewalk with the Texas sun beating down, I wasn't any of that right now I was just a girl stranded in the middle of nowhere, already sweating through my winter-style belted coat and black skirt like an i***t and surrounded by my loads of luggage. My parent and literally packed all my clothes like its a farewell or good bye. With my oversized sunglasses on, I turned to my personal assistant and childhood friend Catalina, who stood beside me. We had known each other for as long as I could remember. She was basically family, the one person who put up with my chaos without quitting. "So, where is my ride?" I asked. I had been expecting a nice car waiting for us, something with AC that actually worked and leather seats that didn't smell like regret. Instead, she had her phone out, trying to book a cab. I stared at her in disbelief. "I thought I asked you to rent a car," I said, my voice firm but quiet, even as irritation prickled under my skin. I looked around. Other people were climbing into cabs and leaving, wheels kicking up dust as they disappeared toward whatever passed for civilization here. But I was still standing there, frustration building by the second like a storm cloud. I gave Catalina a sharp look. "Cat, where is the car?" "Sorry, Sam," she said, sounding genuinely apologetic as she wiped sweat from her forehead. "I thought we would just take a cab to save time." I raised an eyebrow, adjusting my hat again as another breeze tried to steal it. "When have I ever taken a cab? I have a collection of cars back home, not a collection of cab receipts. This is not how we do things." I put a hand to my forehead, feeling the exhaustion settle deep into my bones. The heat pressed against me like a physical weight, making my designer bag feel heavier than it should. "God, just call the rental company for a car, please." Like, i could take a cab that is so not me fr. But she hesitated, squinting at her screen. "The network isn't very strong here. I was already having trouble with the cab app. Everything keeps timing out." I let out a long sigh, trying my best to stay patient even though I wanted to scream. "Well, find a network. Walk around if you have to. I can't stand here melting forever." "Wait for me," Catalina said before walking away toward a patch of shade near the terminal building. "As if I know my way around," I muttered sarcastically to myself. The air was getting hotter by the minute, and I was really feeling it in my winter-style belted coat and black skirt. "Ugh, I'm so hot," I whispered, digging through my designer bag for a face wipe. I couldn't help but blame both Catalina and my dad for this whole mess. If he hadn't forced me onto that plane with all these ultimatums about the inheritance, I'd still be in Blueview, planning my next post instead of standing in this dusty wasteland. Suddenly, I heard a giggle behind me. I turned around and saw a woman with her two kids. They were pointing at me and laughing openly. "Who wears a cold-weather outfit to a place like this?" the woman asked her kids, loud enough for me to hear every word. My anger flared instantly, hot and sharp. I walked right up to them, heels clicking on the pavement. "Okay, first of all, this is a fashion statement," I said, looking down at their cheap-looking clothes. "It's a high-end outfit that people like you could never afford. Some of us actually care how we look when we travel." The woman and her kids looked shocked. I smiled sweetly, thinking they would back down. But the woman didn't quit. "i***t and a brat," she muttered under her breath, loud enough to carry. "Okay, that's it!" I screamed. "This is designer, and you're just jealous!" The argument was starting to attract attention, and I could feel people at the airport staring. Phones came out. Whispers spread. I saw the woman and her kids walk away quickly, the mother pulling her children along like I was contagious. Some people love to start fights they can't finish. I turned around and tried to compose myself, cheeks burning. "Go on, nothing to see here," I said to the onlookers, waving my hand dismissively. "Ugh, if my parents hadn't forced me to come here, I wouldn't be in this mess," I muttered. I just wanted to get out of the airport and start this new life my parents had forced on me, whatever that was supposed to look like on a broken-down farm in the middle of Texas. Just then, Catalina came back, looking a little more hopeful. "Any good news?" I asked. She shook her head. "The rental manager said they will send a car soon, but it might take a while. They're short on vehicles right now." "God, I'm so dead," I groaned, looking at the mountain of luggage behind me. My parents had packed my entire closet, enough designer pieces to last months. I was so exhausted I felt like I might faint right there on the sidewalk. "What are we going to do?" I checked my watch. It was already 6:00 PM, and the sun was going down fast, painting the sky in ugly oranges and pinks. No cabs were left in sight. "I'm so screwed." I heard Catalina mumble that this wouldn't have happened if I had just agreed to take a cab from the start. "Did you say something?" I asked sharply, turning on her. "No," she said quickly. "Okay," I said. "Well, you have to find a solution." She spotted a security guard nearby and told me, "I'm coming right back." I watched her walk over to the guards, my legs starting to ache from standing so long in these impractical heels. I saw them nodding and smiling as she talked, gesturing toward the parking area. I wondered what she was telling them, probably spinning some story about the poor rich girl stranded in cowboy country. A few minutes later she walked back, looking pleased with herself. "I have good news and bad news," she announced. "Okay," I said. "Which one first?" "The good news." "The truck is almost here," she said with a proud smile. ” they called me again and said the it's near the airport" "Good girl. Remind me to increase my salary," I told her. "Now, what's the bad news?" Her smile faded. "You won't like the car. It's... um... an old truck since the rental manager said that won't send a car today. "An old truck?" I repeated, my voice rising with disbelief. "You expect me to ride in an old truck?" I took a deep breath to calm down, fanning myself with my hand. "This is ridiculous. Let's just wait for a new cab?" "I'm sorry, Sam," Catalina said. "He said the truck is already here and it's getting late., but he will give us a discount though." "A discount?" I stared at her, outraged. "You think a discount on a rusty truck makes up for this? I didn't come all this way to ride in some farmer's junker." “Let just manage the truck.” Catalina said feeling frustrated. “Nope” I said shaking my head. “Please Sam.” I shook my head, feeling defeated but too tired to keep fighting. "Fine," I said. "We'll take the old truck. But I'm not happy about it." Catalina looked relieved. "I'll go get it sorted, then," she said, and walked away again. I felt angry and frustrated, but also a small, reluctant spark of determination to get through this nightmare. Maybe once I saw the farm, I could figure out how to sell it fast and get back to my real life. While I waited, I pulled out my phone to check my social media. Notifications from my fans were pouring in, all wishing me well and asking how I was doing on my big adventure. I smiled despite everything, grateful for their support, and started typing a vague, glamorous response. Then I heard Catalina call out. "Sam, the truck is here." I looked up and saw her standing next to an old, rusty truck that looked like it belonged in a junkyard. It was even worse than I had imagined, dented fenders, faded paint, and it probably smelled like cigarettes and regret. But as I stared at that beat-up vehicle, I felt a new sense of resolve settle over me. I took a deep breath, straightened my coat, and walked over to the truck, ready, or at least pretending to be ready, to start my new life.