STUCK WITH THE COWBOY

Lost luggage

Chapter Two

The road to the farm was less a road than a suggestion. Every bump and rut sent a jolt through the truck's rusty frame, and I felt my head thud against the window for the tenth time. The truck was cramped, forcing me to sit shoulder to shoulder with Catalina. To make matters worse, the driver, a grimy old man, was smoking a cigarette with the window cracked just enough for the smoke to blow right back into my face. I hate smoke.

Between the exhaustion, the smell, the boring music, and being squished, I was reaching my limit.

Suddenly, I heard a faint thump from the back of the truck.

I glanced at Catalina, who was completely absorbed in a game on her phone. "Did you hear that?" I asked cause my mountain luggage was in the back of this ugly truck.

She looked up, pulling out an earbud. "What sound?"

I paused, listening. There was only the rumble of the engine and the squeak of the suspension. "Nothing. Must have been my imagination," I mumbled. She nodded and went right back to her game.

The driver started rambling about his truck, something about how he'd had it for thirty years. I tuned him out, my patience worn thin.

My god, I want to get there, I thought.

My mom had told me stories about the farm being the best resort in the country. Grandma Ellie (paternal grandma) had died five years ago, and I hadn't seen her in person for a long time before that. But we always talked on the phone. She would call me every few weeks with updates about the place, her voice full of pride as she described turning the old family farm into something special. Those calls made it feel like she was still right there, even when I was too busy with my own life to visit. Now the reality of her gone hit harder with every mile.

I didn't even know where we were going only Catalina knows the direction.The muddy road was surrounded by nothing but dense, dark trees that pressed in close, making the cab feel even smaller. The Texas heat seeped through the metal, turning the inside into an oven. Sweat trickled down my back under the heavy coat I never should have worn.

“So you know the resort right?” I heard the driver ask.

“Yeah,” I replied uninterested in the conversation and I didn't want to add more info.

“Her grandma owns it.” Catalina added.

“Okay, that resort needs some work.” the driver said.

"This is one ugly town," I muttered under my breath.

"What was that?" the driver asked, his eyes finding mine in the rearview mirror.

I cleared my throat. "I said, the town is very... dusty."

He grunted in agreement. I looked out the window at the ramshackle houses passing by. "I hope this isn't where I'm going," I whispered to Catalina.

She just said, "Yeah," without looking up.

"Good," I replied. "This place looks so rowdy.. Yuck"

My stomach growled, adding another layer to my misery. "I'm so hungry," I complained.

"I'm starving too," Catalina agreed. "And thirsty."

"I've got water," the driver offered, gesturing to a plastic jug on the floor of the truck. I glanced at the jug, then at his dirt-caked fingernails, and my stomach churned. I would rather die of thirst than drink that water. That is so disgusting.

"No, thank you," I said, a little too quickly. "I'm fine."

He looked at me in the mirror again, a confused look on his face. "You sure? It's a long trip."

"She's fine," Catalina cut in, giving me a knowing look. "We'll get something when we stop."

I closed my eyes, trying to block everything out, but the constant bumping made sleep impossible. "How much longer?" I asked Catalina.

"I don't know," she said. "But I think we're getting close."

As we turned a corner, a worn wooden sign appeared through the trees: "Welcome to Green Valley Farm." A tiny sliver of relief washed over me. We were finally here. But as we drove down the long, unpaved driveway, the relief vanished, replaced by a sinking feeling of dread.

As the truck sputtered to a stop, I felt a layer of dust and grime covering my clothes. I stepped out, my designer heels sinking into the mud with a sickening squelch.

Then, I heard Catalina scream.

"What?" I snapped, spinning around. She was pointing at the truck bed, her face pale. I rushed to the back, and my heart stopped. The mountain of luggage was gone. All of it. Except for one lone suitcase that had been wedged in a corner. My shoes, my bags, my clothes, everything was gone.

My head swam with fury. I turned on the driver, hands clenched into fists at my sides. "Where is my luggage?"

He looked at me, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"It's gone!" I shrieked, my voice cracking. "It's all your fault! Your stupid, bumpy road and this death trap of a truck!" I took a step toward him, every muscle in my body screaming to lunge. I wanted to fight him. I wanted to grab him by his dirty shirt and shake him until he admitted it was his fault. My designer everything, scattered somewhere along this godforsaken road because of his careless driving. The rage boiled so hot I could barely see straight.

He shook his head. "How is that my fault?"

"It's all your fault, your damn old truck and your stupid driving!" I yelled, moving closer. My heels sank deeper into the mud, but I didn't care. I balled my hands tighter, imagining swinging at him. "You were supposed to get us here with our stuff intact! Do you have any idea how much that luggage was worth?" my heart ached thinking of my designers. My clothes and shoes. My Prada LV and my Gucci.

"Then you shouldn't have entered the damn truck," he said, spitting on the ground near my feet.

That was it. I lunged forward, ready to slap him or worse. "You are going back to get it! Right now!" I screamed, voice raw. Catalina grabbed my arm just in time, holding me back with surprising strength.

"Sam, stop!" she said, stepping between us.

I whirled on her, trying to pull free. "Don't you 'Sam, stop' me! This is your fault, too! I you can forget about that raise!" I strained against her grip, still glaring at the driver. Part of me wanted to break loose and make him regret every bump on that road. My whole life had literally fallen off the back of his junk heap.

The driver, looking completely fed up, held out his hand. "Just pay me so I can go."

"We aren't paying you s**t, go and meet the manager" I scoffed, still mourning my lost designer bags and shoes, still itching to fight.

“I don’t work for them they only asked to help two stranded girls.”

“Who are you calling ‘stranded girls’”

"Just pay me, okay? I don't want any trouble."

"I want that trouble cause I'm not paying you a dime."

"Sam just let him go." Catalina as she quickly paid him, practically shoving the money into his hand to end the standoff. He snatched it, counted it fast, got back into his truck without another word, and drove off, spitting gravel from his tires.

"Fucker!" I yelled after him, my voice hoarse. I tried to chase a few steps but my heels stuck in the mud, and Catalina held me back again. The truck disappeared down the driveway, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake.

I was left standing there in the mud, next to a crumbling house, with one single suitcase to my name. I pulled out my phone, praying for a signal. Nothing. Not a single bar.

"There is no network," I said to Catalina.

"Probably," she replied.

"How am I going to survive?" I cried, turning to her, my eyes welling up. "No phone, no car, no clothes..."

"Stop exaggerating," she said, though she looked just as worried.

"Exaggerating?" I gestured wildly at the decaying farm around us. "Does this look like I'm exaggerating? Look at this place! It's a war zone!" And it was. This wasn't the fresh start my parents had promised. It was the end of the world. Grandma's voice echoed in my head from those phone calls, full of hope about the resort she was building. Now it was just ruins, and I was stuck in the middle of it with nothing but anger and one pathetic suitcase. I was so going to sue that car company.