Here, Ruby Schmidt is leaving West Texas to study art at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts in Philadelphia:

Raised to ranch life, hard work did not bother Ruby. She loved the land as much as Bismarck did, but painting enraptured her. Deep in her soul, she knew she had talent. As far back as she could remember, at every free moment, she had drawn pictures. During times paper was scarce, she traced images in the dust with a stick, lamenting the interminable wind that blew them away. When she sketched, she felt as free as Bismarck’s mustangs. If not allowed to become a painter, she would shrivel up inside. But leaving Bismarck had been harder than she thought possible. At the break in his voice when he said goodbye, only her white-knuckled grip on the handrail kept her from falling into his arms. She could turn around. She could go back. It wasn’t too late.
The clacking of wheels on train tracks set the pace of her swirling thoughts. Yes. No. Stay. Go. The train’s whistle announced the stop in Big Spring. Ruby stood, preparing to get off the train, still not certain if she was coming or going, but thinking she should at least stretch her legs. As she descended, she noticed a careworn woman waiting on the platform. Not much older than Ruby herself, the woman was pregnant, had a toddler slung on one hip, and her fingers enclosed another child’s hand.
Ruby closed her eyes. That was her future if she returned home. She got back on the train and announced her final decision with a determined stomp of her foot, loud enough that the men around her looked up in surprise. After an apologetic shrug, she returned to her thoughts. She would stick with her original plan. Bismarck had agreed to wait a year. If her studies didn’t work out, she could always return home. Things would still be the same. Nothing ever changed in Truly.