Riding Cowgirl (for Ty and RPCG)

James Lindner sighed, reading the court papers for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. He'd been speeding, and was sentenced to community service by a very small town court. Not just any community service, however. He was stuck doing chores on a farm. A FARM, he thought, as he waited at the station for his ride. They'd even impounded his car, and he wouldn't get it back until the sentence was carried out. He growled in irritation, looking left and right along what seemed the only street in the town.

Just when he thought his ride was a no-show, he heard a soft southern drawl behind him. A feminine, almost seductive voice called his name. He turned slowly, and found himself face to face with a stunningly beautiful woman of a rather remarkable persuasion dressed in a yellow sundress. She introduced herself as Mora, and smiled with dancing green eyes. He cleared his throat, realizing he was staring at the cowgirl. And cowgirl she was, he noted.

She looked like a female bull, complete with horns, which was a surprise. Her long red hair, bright green eyes, and very curvy figure would have given a statue wood. He blushed, looking away, then grinned sheepishly. "I take it you're my sentence?"

If that were the case, it might not be so unbearable. Though he still didn't want his car, his beautiful Lady Lune, staying in the care of the hicks that ran the police force in the small town. He could only imagine the horrible things they'd try to do to it.

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Mora looked James up and down, sighing quietly. Another city boy. Why did it have to be another city boy? When she'd made the deal with the judge, her uncle, she'd thought he'd be sending her local boys. Men who knew their way around a farm whom she could get real work out of, instead he'd sent her a constant stream of city boys who didn't know the head of a chicken from its ass, or their ass. Once again she'd be stuck with an idiot and be forced to baby sit him so he didn't do anything stupid. Thankfully she had some simple work to do.

"'Ats right city boy. Ah'm yer sentence and you'd best remember 'at Sugar," she said with attitude. "Iffin' you piss me off I'll have your ass sent back jail and you can serve your sentence in the county lock up playing pokey with guys nambed Bubba. Grab your gear and get in the truck," she said jerking her thumb over her shoulder at a 50's Ford pickup sitting behind her in front of the courthouse.

James raised an eyebrow at the way she regarded him. And then there was the sigh. It irritated him to no end to be sighed at by a farm girl. He shook his head, and grabbed his bags. Then he rolled his eyes, regarding the truck for a moment. It was an old F100, and the paintjob clearly hadn't been kept up in years. It was also a slightly familiar looking vehicle, and he couldn't figure out why.

But rather than ponder that or his situation...or her sense of humor...he walked over to the vehicle, and put his bags in the bed of the pickup. Then he got in the passenger side, and buckled his seatbelt. Once that was done, he braced his feet against the floorboards, having a feeling it was going to be a bumpy ride. He waited for her to get in and take them to the farm he'd be working on.

As he waited, he thought back to the last time he'd been in that town, and sighed. Nearly fifteen years had passed since he'd left, and nothing seemed to have changed. The cops were still of the tin star variety, and the only thing new seemed to be the big dairy to the north.

Mora fired up the engine and turned down the road. They quickly left the paved road and headed out on a dusty country road. The truck's paintjob might have not been spectacular but the motor rumbled along without complaint. She guided them along the road for half an hour until they crested a hill and a simple farm came into view. A two story farm house sat back from the road, along with a large barn, several silos, and some other buildings. Around the house and blocking the view of it from the road, if you weren't on the hill, were acre upon acre of trees and farther back planted fields. As she turned down the drive way they passed under a sign declaring, "TTA Farm and Orchard."

James was immediately glad he'd chosen to brace himself against the floor. The shaking and shuddering of the old pickup as it traveled down the dirt roads was enough to make his teeth chatter, and he started grinding them together in an effort to keep them from breaking, or worse, biting down on his cheeks or tongue. The sign made him tilt his head, as they passed under it. It also seemed familiar, and he couldn't quite figure out why.

When they finally DID come to a stop before the old two story house, he frowned. It wasn't until the cowgirl had shut off the engine that he spoke. "Your engine's third piston is a half-second out of sequence, and the fifth is wearing against the cylinder wall." He was really good with cars, and could hear discrepancies in most engines.

Mora turned and glared at James. She'd kept her truck in good working order since before she could even legally drive it. "Oh, is that so? Well then smartass you can fix it later. For now grab your shit and follow me."

Mora got out of the truck and walked to the front door of the house, her long brown tail swishing agitatedly behind her tossing the sundress back and forth. She opened up the house, it wasn't kept locked this far out in the country, and she was armed anyways. She showed James to a guest room in the back of the house. "You'll sleep here for now. Piss me off and you'll sleep in the barn." It wasn't the nicest room in the house, she'd stripped out most of the decoration and homey touches when she'd agreed to take on the work release cases. A closet with a curtain for a door, a simple iron frame bed, a worn chest of drawers, and a simple chair were all that were inside. "Get into work clothes and meet me out front in five minutes. Time to earn your keep."

With that Mora turned and headed upstairs.

James raised an eyebrow at the glare, then shrugged. He grabbed his bags from the bed of the pickup, and followed behind the now clearly ANGRY cowgirl. The room, to be honest, was bad. But it wasn't as bad as some of the hotels he'd been forced to stay in. He shook his head, and sighed, putting his things away quickly. Then he changed into the coveralls he used when he was working on his car. They were oilstained and covered in grime, but they were what he felt most comfortable in when he wasn't driving. And it didn't look like he'd be driving for a while, he thought.

Less than five minutes later, he was in front of the house, looking for her. He didn't see her, and that suddenly worried him. The only thing he had with him was the tool box that he carried everywhere.

Mora came downstairs and walked outside having changed her outfit. The sundress was gone and she'd traded it in for a pair of shorts and a cropped flannel shirt over a white tank top. She'd tied the ends of the flanned shirt under her breasts leaving her belly bare and the shorts came no where near her knees. Everything was pulled nice and tight by Mora's ample curves and she'd tied her hair back in a long single braid.

She looked him over and nodded. "That'll do, thought if you die of heat stroke its not my problem." She grabbed a shovel that had been leaning against the porch and tossed it to him. "Follow me," she led him towards the silos to a section of fence that had been leveled. "Your first job is to clean this up. The damn truck driver couldn't drive when he picked up his load and wiped it out. Once you're done picking it up you'll dig the post holes for the fence's replacement." She pulled a pair of gloves out of her shorts and tossed them to him. "You'll wanna wear these so the barbed wire doesn't cut you up. Any questions?"

James caught the shovel easily, and followed her. At the sight of the fence, and her explanation, he raised an eyebrow, frowning. He stepped back, looking from the damaged section of fence to the silo and back again. He walked over to the silo, and counted paces to the section of fence that was demolished. Then he turned back to face the silo for a moment, before turning his head to look at her. "Was he drunk?"

It might not have seemed like a legitimate question until one realized that the section of fence was too far away from the silo to have been merely a miss of the silo. He caught the gloves at her explanation, and nodded, pulling them on. Then he got to work immediately, focusing his attention entirely on the task at hand. With barbed wire involved, he didn't dare remove the top section of the coveralls from his forearms.

It didn't take him that long to clean it up, either. The real issue was that he found that not only would he need to dig new post holes, he also needed to replace large sections of the barbed wire fence. He frowned at that, and made a wooden section to make do until he could ask her about the barbed wire.

"New, I think," Mora said. It had incensed her that the trucking company hadn't bothered to fix the fence. She didn't hire them anymore. "I don't use them anymore, bastards didn't want to fix it." She watched him get started just to ensure he knew what he was doing. She wasn't dressed to work with barbed wire, that's what the cons were for. Seeing he had it in hand she turned away. "I've got chores to do, I'll see you at lunch. Noon, in the house."

At her statement, he'd nodded, waving a hand without looking over his shoulder as he kept working. Once he'd got the fence fixed, he looked at his watch. Then he undid the zipper on the coveralls, pulling off the top section and tying the sleeves around his waist. He stretched, and opened the vents in the legs, before surveying his work. He nodded after a few moments, then headed towards the house. That nagging feeling that he'd been there before was still there, but he paid it no mind.

He set the shovel next to the house, and stepped into the kitchen through the outside door, and looked at her. "It's done, Miss. I had to make one section the old split log type of fence because the barbed wire in it was a total loss."

The news made Mora curse. "Unbelievable. Fine, we'll go into town tomorrow morning to pick up a spool. The split log will work for now." She turned towards him and motioned towards the table. She tossed a simple sandwich of pulled chicken and cheese. "Eat up, then work on the car till the sun goes down." She sat across from him and started to eat her own sandwich.

James nodded slowly, and took a seat across from her. He ate quietly, pondering just how he was supposed to get his car out of impound to keep it safe. When he was finished with his sandwich, he stood up, cleaning the plate in the sink. Then he went out of the kitchen, not saying anything, and headed out with his toolbox to get started on the old truck. He all but tore the engine apart, cleaning it, flushing the system using an old racing repair setup he found in one section of the barn.

When he finally had the engine put back together and in the truck again, he put oil in it, and set the vehicle down on the ground. He didn't have the keys to the truck, but it was an old model, and he was able to get it going quickly using an old Manufacturer's Skeleton key. He left it in park, and revved the engine a few times. Then he grinned, and stretched, driving the vehicle back out to the driveway and turning it off. The sun was just setting, and he climbed out of the vehicle to look at the sky.

Alejandra Coldthorn

Alejandra Coldthorn knows the ins and outs of the commercial world like the back of her hand. As a shining example of rags to riches, Alejandra came from humble beginnings as a farmer's daughter to founding one of the most dominant forces of Gossamer's agricultural market. Emboldened by years of success, she has grown used to getting what she wants from anyone, whether it is a lucrative contract or preferential treatment from city officials. However the emergence of Las Lindas farm has caused her to feel threatened with not only the possibility of direct competition, but with the chance that her rival Mora Linda might once again take something that she feels is rightfully hers. On the outside, Alejandra easily exudes the aura of someone who owns whatever room she enters but her desperation to silence Mora hints to a deep well of emotions she refuses to bring to the surface. She is passionate and dedicated to her job as CEO, which sometimes causes her to seek unorthodox methods in preserving her image as a prominent figure in her industry.


Alejandra had heard word around town that someone new was being brought in for a period of forced labor at Las Lindas, and the rumors had brought out some curiousity in her. She didn't think for a moment that the addition of just one person, whoever it might be, was going to bring about a turn around for the smaller, fairly insignificant farm. All the same, one should have a close eye trained on ones competition...even when that compitition can't realistically compete with you.

She drove out herself rather than having her assistant along; Sort of a personable, more casual touch she thought. 'Oh, no, this has nothing to do with business Mora, just a friendly little visit...really.' Something like that.

It was late afternoon when she pulled up in her personal car, a sleek black sports car, which (between the newness of the vehicle and the smallness of the area) hadn't even touched its first thousand miles. She gave it an un-necisary rev for the sake of drawing attention, then stepped out in a tight black skirt and blue blouse, open enough to display her not-unsubstantial, yet still smaller than Mora's own, chest, but not so open as to be unprofessional. A pair of rimless, square glasses completed her business like appearence as she approached the farm house, smiling to Mora, her tail swishing behind her lazily.

"Good day. You must be Mora Linda. Long time no see."

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Mora left her sandwich on the table when she heard the growl of the approaching car. She was frowning before she even made it to the foyer. She didn't need to see who'd shown up at her house to know it was going to piss her off. She walked out onto the porch and saw Alejandra standing there in front of her car. Crossing her arms under her breasts Mora couldn't resist the temptation to heft her assets and their superiority over Alejandra's. "Not quite long enough," she drawled.

James raised an eyebrow, regarding the newcomer with an amused expression. It was quite clear that the two gals knew each other. More importantly, it was obvious that there was a bit of animosity towards each other. He frowned for a moment, then cleared his throat. "If I may, Miss. Your engine needs an overhaul and a retuning, your suspension's out of alignment, and your left rear tire needs another fourteen pounds per square inch." He turned his attention to tightening the screws on the driver's door of Mora's truck.

Alej forced her smile to remain despite the tone of Mora's voice, and the reminder that while she may have more of the milk, Mora had more of the mammaries. She waved a hand dismissively. "No need to be like that, is there Mora? I just came by to see if it was true that your little farm was finally getting the help it so desperately needs."

She looked around at the state of the farm...not as bad as she had expected, damnit, but still nowhere near in the same league as her own. "Very, very desperately. I can only hope that one new addition here will be enough."

"If I may, Miss. Your engine needs an overhaul and a retuning, your suspension's out of alignment, and your left rear tire needs another fourteen pounds per square inch."

Alej looked over at the young man who had spoken to Mora, and grinned. "You must be him. You look capable enough...but not very observant. As you can see, Mora's 'rear tire' doesn't need anymore pounds per square inch."

Mora's nostrils flared at Alejandra's insult. She wasn't wrong, Mora's ass was more voluptuous than would normally be considered sexy in most magazines but it was firm and round and filled out her shorts nicely. Not that she'd point that out to the tightass cow in front of her, she wouldn't give her the satisfaction.

Mora's farm wasn't in the best condition, it needed help. Help she really couldn't afford. It was by no means a junk heap though, just a little behind the times and in need of a good coat of paint.

"He'll do for now, and he should be plenty. The farm pretty much runs itself most of the time."

Trying to disarm the situation hadn't worked well, James noted. So he continued. "Actually, Miss, I was talking about your sports car there. I don't know who you have maintaining it, but they should be fired, if not tortured, for letting the car get like that. Even FACTORY specs aren't THAT bad."

He finished tightening the screws that held the doors on Mora's truck, then turned to look at them. "I'm James Lindner, and I test components for aftermarket upgrades of cars for a living. I also race my own car, which is currently in the town's lockup even though I have a permit giving me permission to test aftermarket mods. I was testing drag flaps and some new engine hardware in my Lady when I got arrested by one of your hick town sheriffs. They seem to have gotten worse over the years."

"Actually, Miss, I was talking about your sports car there. I don't know who you have maintaining it, but they should be fired, if not tortured, for letting the car get like that. Even FACTORY specs aren't THAT bad. I'm James Lindner, and I test components for aftermarket upgrades of cars for a living. I also race my own car, which is currently in the town's lockup even though I have a permit giving me permission to test aftermarket mods. I was testing drag flaps and some new engine hardware in my Lady when I got arrested by one of your hick town sheriffs. They seem to have gotten worse over the years."

Alejandra turned away from Mora and back towards James, regarding him a little more closely. She plastered on an overly wide smile and adopted a sweetly sarcastic tone of voice. "Oh, well then, thank you for your...expert...automotive diagnosis. Really, I'm just more impressed than you can conceive, truly. Even more impressive than that, however, is how you can rattle off that entire history of yourself in such a way, it actually sounds like you think anyone gives a damn. How do you do that?"

She scoffed, shook her head, and returned her gaze to Mora. "Well...if you really think he's enough for your farm, then you're entitled to your idiotic opinion. But in the spirit of good natured, friendly business competition..." She pulled a card from between her breasts with a quick flick and held it out to the other cowgirl, betting with herself whether Mora would rip it to pieces, or simply ignore it. "...Just call any time, and I can loan you some extra help; Coldthorne has more than it could ever need. Really, I ought to downsize, my financial department is constantly telling me we're too well staffed, and I pay too well, it'd be better profitwise to let some people go. But you know how I am, I can't do something that cruel to the people who depend on those jobs." She sighed and shrugged. "I'm just...too good of a person for my own good sometimes."

When Alejandra slapped down James Mora smiled in spite of herself. Did the know it all good to be told off. The smile didn't last though as Alejandra opened her mouth again. Mora looked at the card Alejandra was holding out. She took it delicately from Alejandra and considered it for a moment before tossing it away with a flick of her wrist. "It's really amazing how flexible you are," she quipped. "I'm no where near flexible enough to brown nose myself."

James sighed, realizing he was getting nowhere in defusing the tense air between the two. Worse still, they both seemed to like insulting him. He shook his head, and then shrugged. "Whatever. Miss Mora, I've fixed the issues I mentioned before with pistons three and five in your truck's engine. I also took the entire thing apart, cleaned it, put it back together, adjusted the valve timing AND the cam placement, and changed the oil and antifreeze. I changed the windshield washer fluid too. I'll get to the paint as soon as you let me know what color you want it to be. And if you want any patterns done on it."

Then he walked back to the house, planning on calling whoever he had to in order to remedy the problem with a bunch of hick town cops that put him on her farm in the first place.

Alej watched as the card was flicked away, pretty much as she had expected, then as the man, James, went away as well. She had listened to his explanation of all he had done and planned to do for Mora's truck, and shook her head slowly after he had gone.

"No real need to brown nose yourself when you have a lost little puppy like that so anxious to kiss your ass. Good thing you have him here for a while, what with so much ground to cover." True, the big butt comments were nothing more than cheap barbs, but Alejandra took a degree of pleasure in dropping them. She headed back to her car, calling back over her shoulder as she went. "Just consider my offer open any time, and good luck with your lap dog. Oh, and while I know you won't want the advice, I'm going to give you some anyway; Be sure to get him fixed quick...I have a feeling puppy wants to hump more than just your leg if he sees the chance."

She grinned to herself and got into her car, pleased at having the last word, and started off the farm. A few seconds later and a few yards further, there was a heavy thunking sound coming from under the hood, followed by a trail of smoke, and the car stopped cold.

Mora let the comment go. Yeah, her rump was big but better padded than Alejandra's bony little excuse for an ass. She let the woman get in her car and leave without responding. She even waved as Alejandra took off. "Burn in hell you stuck up bitch," she said with a sweet smile on her face.

The sound of the dead engine brought a smile to James' lips as he walked past Mora. He muttered something about 'serves you right for insulting someone better than you can ever hope to be, bitch. And my temporary boss too'. Alejandra's car had proven his point when it had decided to commit suicide nor more than a few yards away from the old Ford pickup that he had just spent the evening fixing up.

He entered the room, and then shook his head. "The barn would have almost been preferable. At least there would have been a more comfortable bed, with all that hay in the loft. And I wouldn't have had to deal with the obvious bitchiness of everyone else." He pulled his phone out, and started dialing. He needed to get his Lady out of the clutches of the smalltown cops.