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Shuddering a gasp, Ivory gripped her tangled hair with fierce fingers, aching to let the pressure out of her skull. She stifled a sob and felt another wave of pain emanate from her head. It rolled through her nerves, lighting everything in a spark of fire until it ran through.
Still on the vestiges of pain, she sat up and heaved her feet over the side of her bed. Glancing up, Ivory saw moonlight spilling out from between her curtains. It framed her in an otherworldly glow, like the light of a new enlightenment.
She took slow, deep breaths to even out her stuttered coughs. She felt along her sweat-stained sheets, until she grasped soft, comforting fabric.
Ivory pulled on the bandana around her neck, letting it rest on the crest of her throat. The pink fabric was familiar, soothing in a way she wasn’t accustomed to. It was hard to be relaxed in a harsh environment. But she took her vices where she could, and while she didn’t feel up to a smoke right now, it would help soothe her aching eyes.
She fumbled around her tiny room until she had wrapped herself up in an old robe.
Stepping out of her room, and out of her wooden cabin, Ivory let the cool air wash over her uncovered face. She took a deep inhale, eyes shuddering, and let it wash over her skin and into her bones.
Moonlight lit the way to her old rocking chair on the porch, her cheap cigarettes already on the little end table she had hand carved. Ivory plucked one of the cigarettes out of the carton, sticking it in her mouth with no hesitation.
She took a seat and lit up a match, cupping her hands around the flame as it flickered with uncertainty. She used it to light up the cigarette, a cherry red beacon to keep her company for the night.
Ivory breathed out fresh nicotine into the wilds of the air. She rubbed at her forehead with her free hand, wishing for nothing more than a bottle of laudanum or whiskey to wash it down. But she had ran out three days ago, right on the precipice of a fresh harvest.
And as much as Ivory valued her sanity, she valued food more. So she stayed to shuck corn and cut down wheat. Inevitably, it meant she had missed her monthly trip into town.
But it didn't matter to her. She would make do, either by herself or with a little help from a traveling caravan. Ivory had gotten used to that.
She listened to the horses and cows rumble in the distance, her shepherding dogs guarding the cattle. Tomorrow would be a new dawn. She would have to force herself awake to feed everyone, muck stalls, and set off into the fields once more.
Ivory flicked ash off the butt of her cigarette. As she brought it back for one more puff, she wondered vaguely if it would be worth it to hire a cowboy. If not to lessen the workload, then to keep some human company around.
She sighed and let the cigarette fall to the dirt, crushing it under her leather boot.
It would be no use. Ivory was destined to walk a lonesome path, no matter the company she kept.
She was a lone ranger, after all.