Saddle — Tramp Women

They were saddle tramps. It was a title given by townsfolk with a mix of sneer and awe, reserved for those who wandered from ranch to ranch on horseback, trading hard labor for a warm meal and a place to sleep before moving on to the next horizon. Most saddle tramps were men, but Nora and Martha had carved out their own space in the wild dust.

Martha smiled, the lines around her eyes deepening. "Good. I was worried it might be getting crowded." Saddle Tramp Women

They weren't outlaws, and they weren't typical cowhands. They were drifters by choice, bound to no man and no master but the changing of the seasons. Nora had left a suffocating life in an Ohio parlor ten years ago. Martha had simply walked away from a burnt-out homestead in Kansas after the fever took her family. The trail had brought them together, two solitary souls finding a shared language in the creak of saddle leather and the vast, silent stretches of the American West. They were saddle tramps

"More of the same," Nora replied, accepting a tin cup of the boiling, bitter brew. "More sky. More dirt. More freedom." Martha smiled, the lines around her eyes deepening

Should I add a to the story, like a runaway or a sheriff? I can expand this story in whatever direction you choose!