Before we could extract ourselves we were met with hired hands and pick-up trucks. Our cover story didn't work. It was a good one, too. The ranchers here were simple but not dumb. We drove back to town with our first real defeat.
News travels fast in a small town.
By the time we had driven thirty miles back to our motel, the manager had activated a blinking red light on our phone with a message to call her. It was hopeless. She was wrenching at her bra just looking at us. But this excuse was all fabricated to remind us that our activity was unwelcome. When we threatened not to pay for the few days we had stayed, Arlene, the manager, frantically called the police.