It took a few seconds for the driver of the tomato colored F-350 to notice the BMW stuck in the snow up ahead. Page helped by stepping out into the road and waving her plum kerchief. The truck roared back to life and covered the ground in twenty seconds, no longer taking time to spin the rear wheels in the snow drifts.
Then, there they were. Two adventurous women from Spokane, stuck on a ridge in Montana, staring into the eyes of their two would be rescuers. One was 46 and holding the wheel. The other was nine and he was holding his head just high enough to see out the side window. They both wore cowboy hats.
And Beatrix thought that was just a hoot and a half. Their hunt for cowboys in Montana had come to an end. But rather than landing them with lariats at a corral, they had ensnared them with their hopelessly snowbound distress. Yes, what a great plan.
“Howdy boys,” Page greeted them, sounding quite a lot like Dale Evans.
“I get the big one,” Beatrix announced.
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