Etta felt as if she were signing a contract with the devil. "Now?" she asked with a fearful quiver of defeat. Zia sniffed in distain. "Ugh. No. You're a hot mess. I want you bathed and dressed up nice. We'll meet here again tomorrow morning.
"Zia..." Etta pleaded as the Spanish girl turned her back. The girl paused, not turning. "Could you... Could you at least draw me a bath so I can clean up?"
Zia snorted with distain as she walked away. "There's a horse watering trough behind the barn. Use that, for all I care. Until tomorrow, do not talk to me."
... The next morning, Etta had done her best to make herself presentable. It turned out dried horse c*m was more difficult to scour from her pretty red hair than she imagined, and her normally bouncy tresses still had a bit of a dull and mat
