Cowboy Take Me Away by Jane Graves

she had it finished in no time. After a few hard smacks that passed as fluffing the pillow, she tossed it at the head of the bed.
    “There,” she said. “That should do it. Let’s see…got a computer with you? Phone?”
    “Phone, yeah.”
    “Then let me give you the Wi-Fi password. You’ve got no TV, so at least you’ll have some kind of connection to the outside world.”
    She gave him the code in addition to a set of keys for the various buildings on the premises.
    “If I’d known you were going to be here,” she said, “I’d have brought a few things for your fridge.”
    “That’s okay. I’ll run up the highway to the Pic ’N Go later and grab some stuff to tide me over. I need to get gas, anyway.”
    They went back into the kitchen at the same time a teenage girl popped through the back door. She had short, dark hair and wore a T-shirt with the shelter logo. A tattoo of vines swirling around a rose climbed up her thigh.
    “I finished up in the cat cottage,” she said. “But they’re already pooping again. It never ends.”
    “Luke,” Freddie Jo said, “this is Angela Cordero.”
    Angela Cordero? Now Luke officially felt old. She’d been about six years old when he’d lived there before. He remembered her as a skinny kid with dark, straight hair and a bright, sunshiny smile in spite of the fact that she’d been just as motherless as he was. More than once he’d seen her father bring her to Rosie’s, sit her on a stool at the counter, and together they’d have apple pie and milk shakes. Luke had sat in a booth at the back of the restaurant, drinking black coffee and imagining what it must be like to have a father who gave a damn.
    “I remember,” he said. “Marc Cordero’s daughter.”
    “Luke used to live here,” Freddie Jo said. “I think you might have been in the first grade back when he left. He’s going to be our new caretaker.”
    “Great!” Angela said. “We can sure use the help around here.”
    “So how are things at the vineyard?” Luke asked.
    “About like always. My dad says we’re going to be in a world of hurt if it doesn’t rain soon. But he says that every year. ‘If that mold spreads, we’re gonna be in a world of hurt.’ ‘If that new varietal bombs, we’re gonna be in a world of hurt.’ ‘If that label doesn’t sell, we’re gonna be in a world of hurt.’ I swear I’ve lived in a world of hurt since the day I was born.”
    “Angela is off to college next year,” Freddie Jo said.
    Angela smiled. “Which means I’ll miss harvest. Darn. ”
    “Hard work?” Luke asked.
    “My dad always says, ‘Everybody pulls their weight at harvest, doubly so if your name is Cordero.’” She rolled her eyes. “I doubt I’ll have a professor half as tough as my own father. I swear it’ll be like a four-year vacation.”
    In spite of Angela’s complaints, Luke didn’t hear any animosity in her voice. That was unusual for the average teenager, but he guessed Angela was above average. She reminded him of Shannon at her age, with a lot less intensity and a lot more smiles.
    “Gotta go,” Angela said. “Nice to meet you, Luke.”
    “Nice to meet you, too.”
    After she left, Freddie Jo said, “Angela comes in after school and on weekends. She’s the only other paid employee. But we’ll lose her next year when she goes to college. Damned shame. She’s a good kid. We could use three more just like her, if only we had the money in the budget.”
    “So the rest are volunteers?” Luke asked.
    “Yeah. We have a few on the schedule right now, but they come and go.”
    “Are things really that tight around here?”
    “Expenses are up, and donations are down.”
    “You’d think this town would support the shelter no matter what.”
    “It’s not that people don’t want to. But when it’s between that and putting food on the table, you know what comes first. Angela’s doing a good job with our website and Facebook page and donations are coming in, but