Last Roundup

"Hey, pretty lady, what's a filly like you doin' out so late?" He ordered himself a doubleshot and one for her.  

"Not many cowboys come through this town anymore," she said. "Pity, too." Then she smiled. "You out lookin' for some hog-killin' fun?" 

He spurred her on. "Yep." 

As the crowd thinned at two, she said, "Don't 'spect me to slide into that filthy pickup out front." 

He lit her cigarette, ordered a last round. "Your call, ma'am. Sometimes you get. Sometimes you get got." 

She caught him by the big brass buckle. He didn't mind. "I'm game," she said, and they climbed the stairs out back to the stars.