When you move cross country with no job, no place to stay, and $400 to your name, it can't end well. You might as well live it up, because you are toast. And Tucson winters are not kind to the homeless. That wind gets cold.
She's got two choices now.
She could contact the primitive in Tucson who's always been willing to help her--OffWithTheirHeads?--and take him up on his offer.
But for all we know, he might be a guy who collects cadaver-carvers, and is itching to use one.
Or she could eat humble pie and contact her sisters in Joplin again, begging for bus fare back to home.
Of course, her loving, caring sisters are on to her now, and the terms wouldn't be so easy as they were last time. She'd probably have to become their indentured servant, cook, housekeeper, nanny, gardener, maid, lady-in-waiting, laundress, &c., &c., &c., but at least she'd be alive and safe.
And get her job at the convenience store back, signing over her entire paycheck to them.
It's her own fault she put herself into this, and needs to man up to her mistakes.