Big rig driver made a stop that cold night, 
To top off with diesel and eat a bite,
Headed to El Paso with a full load,
On a south Texas dreary mountain road.

She stood to the side of the cafe's door,
He averted his eyes, thought her a whore.
After his meal, he drank a cup of joe,
He drank the coffee and paid what he owed.

She was still there, bent against the cold wind,
"Please, Mister," she said, "I just need a friend."
He did a double take; she was with child,
A desperate soul as she tried to smile.

He loaded her up inside his warm cab,
She said, "Thank you," and her stomach she grabbed.
He went back inside for something to eat,
She gobbled it up and said aren't you sweet.

Now that she was there, what was he to do?
He timidly asked her when are you due?
She said there was no family or friends,
No one in the world for her to depend.

In the land of Guadalupe,
Her labor began, she asked him to pray.
He pulled off the road and shut the rig down,
It was much too far to get to a town.

The baby was coming, it would not wait,
Into the sleeper awaiting her fate,
He tried to help, but it was just his luck,
They were both stuck out there in his old truck.

The blood soaked everything, even her screams,
There was no water, not even a stream.
The baby came and mother died on cue,
How he got through it all he never knew.

He held the squealing, bloody baby girl,
And something inside him started to swirl.
The babe started out, the odds against her,
The blood-spattered child was only a cur.

In El Paso he made all the right stops,
Hospital for child, and they called the cops.
Mother buried in potter's field so sad,
He claimed the child, saying he was her dad.

©July 27, 2009 / Jerry Pat Bolton