Annabelle Hornsworthy was widowed at a young age, one of the hazards (some would say benefits) of being a young trophy wife married to a ‘more seasoned’ gentleman. Harrison Hornsworthy, her late husband, had been just as effective at playing markets as he was playing the field. When he keeled over, victim of an apparent heart attack, at the Rusty Hammer Hardware Store back in ‘77, his premature death caught everyone in Fort Stockton off guard.

When told of the news, Annabelle took it in stride, poured herself a strong gin and tonic, and then another one, then another. “You’re going to regret that in the morning,” Brother Bob from Second Baptist Church told her. He’d been chosen to go deliver the bad news, lest she need some spiritual assistance.

“Then I’ll sleep till noon. I’m a problem solver,” she replied. Turns out gin can serve as a substitute for spiritual assistance.

Never having any children, Harrison Hornsworthy’s estate was settled more quickly than most and Annabelle found herself the wealthiest woman in Fort Stockton. The first thing she did was order a brand new Stutz Blackhawk VI in the most striking combination of cobalt hues imaginable. The matching spare “protruding through the rear bodywork” was an homage to the fact that her own unique rear bodywork protruded through the tight jeans she wore to the point she couldn’t walk down the street without causing a commotion. 

The speculation on the similarities between Annabelle and the mink lining her trunk were discussed at length over at the Piggly Wiggly. Sister Thelma, never one to take part in such coarse talk, was surprised to bump into Annabelle at the Rex Hall Drug Store. “What does it mean when holy water sizzles as it hits your skin?” Annabelle asked her. “Asking for a friend.”

What was never disputed, however, was that Annabelle’s new ride was the finest automobile in all of Fort Stockton. Stunning from every angle, much like its young newly widowed owner.

Her second large expenditure was to have a full length portrait of herself painted to hang over the fireplace to replace the one of Harrison’s grandfather, Captain Hornsworthy, that had hung there previously. She contacted the most famous artists of the southwest, finally agreeing to commission Hobart Winston, fresh from painting murals in the cafeteria of the capitol building in Austin with the most significant events that had shaped Texas. His work did not come cheap.

Interviews were held as to what setting would work best for the portrait, what the lighting should be, what time of day would best capture Annabelle’s lovely features and true beauty. The details were all worked out, as well as the price. Annabelle’s likeness would be painted at dusk in the pasture behind the ranch house. She would be leaning against the right front fender of the Stutz. The artist would collect a fee of $20,000 for the commission. Work would commence the following weekend.

Hobart showed up early Saturday morning to position everything for the sitting. The Stutz had been freshly waxed and was positioned to catch the sun just right. An easel had been propped up in the shade of a mesquite tree. At the appointed time, Annabelle came out and sauntered over to where she would stand next to the Stutz and handed Hobart a check for $25,000.

“This is more than we agreed on,” he told her.

“I added $5,000 because I want you to paint me completely nude,” she replied.

“Alright,” he said. “But I’m leaving my socks on. I have to have someplace to put the brushes.”