My suggestion — if you plan on listening to tonight’s bedtime story — is to go ahead and listen to it, and THEN come back and read this, as this post is somewhat spoiler-filled.
As noted yesterday, this is a story I wrote, inspired by what turned out to be a pretty entirely inaccurate tale about a woman named Cougar Annie. She lived up here in this neck of the woods for many, many decades, having moved here from somewhere in the southern states early in the 20th century. She was famous for her garden, for her fearlessness around the wildlife [she shot dozens of cougars over the years, a thing less frowned upon in Annie’s time] and for acquiring four husbands in her lifetime.
Her story is quite amazing.
However, she probably did not actually shoot any of her husbands. She did run at least one of them off with her shotgun, after he beat her and turned out to be pretty much a good-for-nothing sort of guy.
I kinda liked the idea that not only did she know how to look after herself, but that she had a real sense of justice. You pull your weight, you get to stay. If not — well, you can just fend for yourself with the rest of the wildlife.
And that’s what I ran with in this story.
Hope you enjoy.