Even has a slight drawl. If you could see his eyes,
would they be Newman Cool Hand Luke blue eyes? A Kurt
Russell Tombstone blue?
"God, yes. I seem to be turned around. Where's the
city? I was sure if I just kept going north, I was bound to
find the city—but I haven't. All I've found is you."
Big smile. High voltage. Give him your True Grit and
your good heart, show him a blossom in the desert, a damsel
in distress—maybe he won't care you're not twenty. Or
thirty. Or even, oh hell... maybe if he does care, he's still
a
natural born gentleman. Even housewives need directions.
Water. A ride.
Cowboy nodded his head towards a ridge of pink rock
half a world away from the way she'd been heading. "City's
over there."
"Guess I wasn't going north then."
"Guess not."
Molly stood there, horribly aware of her unbrushed
teeth, the dark roots in her filthy blonde hair. Only god
and
the cowboy knew what her face looked like. But at least she
was thinner. Over five pounds thinner, maybe even six. By
now, her jeans hung off her like pants hung off a teenaged
boy. Be serious, Molly. Not that thin. If you were that
thin,
your pants would have fallen round your ankles and you'd
be standing here in your boxer shorts.
—Walks Away Woman, Ki Longfellow, page 94
Arizona isn't this empty. Nevada's empty. There are
places in California that define empty. For instance, Death
Valley. But Arizona isn't that empty. There are roads
everywhere. People everywhere. And there's more and
more and more of them every day. People just like Peter
and just like Mrs. Peter come away from the big cities.
Come away from crowds and the cold and the wet and
the snow and the bitter times. People just like Mrs. Perez
and the women of the Tohono Needlework Shop and the
un-needy kid cadging spare change in the parking lot. So
where are the housing estates and the RV parks and the
shopping malls and the playing fields and the swimming
pools and the radio towers and the barbed wire fences?
Come to think, where are the cattle ranches? If nothing
else,
she should be looking at cattle ranches.
—Walks Away Woman, Ki Longfellow, page 36
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