The Yellowstone Conundrum
“Betsy asked. Cameron’s brain was stuck on dogs and cats; Betsy nodded her head, tightly blond and a bit shaggy. Right now she was a little dirtbag running on empty. It was two in the afternoon and Cam realized he was running a bit light himself. He’d just transferred 150 gallons of diesel fuel from the Exxon station’s tank to his rig and paid the owner with a credit card imprint, smiling to himself did you just steal $800 worth of fuel? The transfer involved a siphon hose, a portable pump and... twenty feet of 1.5” surplus fire hose--and the station owner even helped.
“No,” she saw he didn’t understand. “What about the cattle? And the buffalo?” she asked. That stopped Cam. He scratched himself in several places, like a base coach in baseball; head, nose, crotch, stomach, back to crotch, then shifted into idle. “I donno,” he answered plainly. It was hard enough trying to save bitty Betsy in the middle of an earthquake-created firestorm on I-25; way more brain power was required to figure out what was going to happen to moo-cows and cheesburger steers.MoreLess
“No,” she saw he didn’t understand. “What about the cattle? And the buffalo?” she asked. That stopped Cam. He scratched himself in several places, like a base coach in baseball; head, nose, crotch, stomach, back to crotch, then shifted into idle. “I donno,” he answered plainly. It was hard enough trying to save bitty Betsy in the middle of an earthquake-created firestorm on I-25; way more brain power was required to figure out what was going to happen to moo-cows and cheesburger steers.MoreLess
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