My Lady
By Joyce Wheeler
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Jolene watched the parched Wyoming scenery flash by in a dreary sense of brownness as she straddled the back of Dexter's Harley. The hot August sun beat mercilessly on her black pants and shirt and ran tiny rivulets of sweat down her back. Even with the helmet and earphones, the drone of motorcycles all around them was deafening, and she only caught a small part of what Dexter was saying to her.