5. Heather
5
Heather
“ H ave you ever seen anything like this?” I asked, watching the rooster hunker down and hang on as the goat spun in circles, giving him a ride.
“No. Can’t say I have.” Anna laughed.
Charlie, Anna’s husband, lifted a shoulder. “Trixie’s friendly, so that she’s taken to Rowdy doesn’t surprise me. Can’t say I know much about chickens though. This usual?”
He glanced at David Strickland, the supposed chicken expert who was going to take my Rowdy home with him.
David lifted a brow. “I mean I’ve seen a loose chicken hop up and roost on a horse once, but we don’t see a whole lot of this interspecies mingling since the chickens are caged back home.”
“Caged.” I repeated the word with a humph and narrowed my eyes at him.
He turned his attention to me, one sandy brow cocked high. “Yes, caged. Ten thousand chickens loose would be—challenging.”
“Ten thousand.” My eyes widened. “Wow. That’s a lot of eggs.”
David pressed his lips together and let out a non-committal sound that neither agreed nor disagreed with my comment.
“I only buy organic free range eggs,” I added, just to let him know where I stood on the matter.
“I’m sure the chickens appreciate your support.” His lips bowed up in a small smile. When his gaze moved to Rowdy and Trixie again, he outright laughed.
I turned and saw that now Rowdy was sorting through Trixie’s fur. “What’s he doing?”
“Eating fleas if I had to guess.” David chuckled.
“Charlie, I told you Trixie was overdue for her flea treatment.”
Charlie tipped his head to one side. “Looks like Rowdy’s got it covered, so no worries. Eh?”
Anna shook her head. “Men.”
I smiled in commiseration at the single word muttered beneath her breath, even though I’d been without the burden of a man myself for a while. Burning out my vibrator and having to buy a new one last month was proof of that.
I shot David a glance and caught sight of his denim-covered butt. I had to begrudgingly admit he was handsome, though his backside was clearly the better side of the man since his obnoxious mouth was in the front.
Too bad I’d left my new vibrator back at my place in Burbank. I could use that tushy as inspiration.
“I hate to break up this little tryst, but my friend’s expecting me by noon and it’s getting late,” David said as Trixie got tired of being pecked at—fleas or not—and moved to bury her face between Charlie’s knees.
Still, I hated to separate the two. They’d bonded so quickly. And it wasn’t like Rowdy had anyone else in his life. There was me, and Trixie, and now David—who was still a big question mark in my mind when it came to his qualifications to be a suitable animal companion.
“Do you think maybe we could set up a play date for Rowdy and Trixie one day?” I asked, addressing Anna who I was sure was the only one there who wouldn’t think the idea was crazy.
“That’d be great. I think Trixie would really like that.” Anna dug a business card out of her trouser pocket and handed it to me. “That has my cell on it. Just text me and we’ll work something out.”
“You going to be driving him to this play date of yours?” David asked.
“Yes.” I glared at him. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t expect you to. It’d probably take you two tanks of gas in that thing you drive.”
Shaking his head, he chuckled but didn’t comment. Instead he headed for Rowdy, both hands out. “Come on, Rowdy. Time to go.”
The bird did not take well to being separated from his new friend Trixie. He flopped wildly, screeching like he was being murdered the whole time he was in the hands of the dubiously proclaimed chicken expert.
I followed behind as David carried the bird to his truck by his feet as his wings flapped. “Please don’t hurt him!”
“I’m not hurting him. He’s hurting me,” he added. “Open the door while you’re standing there.”
I had to scramble to climb up onto the step and open the door of the truck’s cab. David tossed Rowdy inside, literally, and jumped into the driver’s seat fast, slamming the door before the disoriented bird could get out.
“Please don’t forget to text me the address,” I yelled.
He rolled down the window a few inches. “I won’t forget.”
“Is he okay?” I asked.
“He’s fine.” David glanced down. “He’s eating some potato chips he found on the floor.”
“Oh, that’s healthy.” I scowled.
He shot me a glare. “He’ll get real feed when we get to Drew’s place.”
“Make sure you text?—”
“Punching it in right now,” he said without looking at me.
My cell vibrating in my pocket told me he was telling the truth. I acknowledged it with a, “Thank you.”
Now he did meet my eyes and paused for a second, just looking at me, before he said, “You’re very welcome.”
Then he fired up that big engine. I took a step back from the sound alone, forget about the hot burst of exhaust and heat coming off the vehicle.
“See you soon,” he grinned. With a wave at Anna and Charlie, David put the truck in gear and headed down the road.
I watched until he was out of sight, hoping to catch another glimpse of Rowdy. But I was disappointed. I turned back to Anna. “How well do you know him?”
“Only met him today.”
“Really?” That I hadn’t known. I might not have let him take Rowdy if I had.
“He owns Strickland Feed Corporation. They’re pretty well known in the industry.”
Since I didn’t own a pet of any sort until this morning, Strickland wasn’t on my radar. But if nothing else, I was the queen of the internet search. If there was something to be found online about David Strickland or his company, I’d find it.
To do proper research, I had to get to my laptop, which thankfully I’d brought to the condo with me. But first, I had to thank my hosts here.
“Thank you so much for all your help.”
Anna smiled. “My pleasure. I’m glad it worked out.”
That had yet to be determined, but I nodded anyway. I glanced at the side yard where I saw a shelter employee bathing a dog. While another brought a rambunctious puppy out of the front door on a leash, giving him what sounded like training commands the whole time.
“You know, I’m going to be around this month with not a lot to do. Do you need any volunteers? I work in Burbank during the week but I could do weekends. Maybe even a couple of weeknights?”
“Our core staff can always use volunteer help, whenever you can give it.”
“Good. I’d like that. And now, I really should let you go and get on with my own day.” I smiled as I spotted Charlie leading a leashed Trixie along the sidewalk.
The goat completely derailed the puppy’s training as the dog hopped in circles and Trixie joined in.
I turned back to Anna. “It was really nice meeting all of you.”
I might say that phrase all the time at work and not care either way, but today, I completely meant every word.
Somehow it felt as if I’d made new friends in Anna, Charlie, and even Trixie. As if these people were going to be part of my life while I was here, displaced in Hermosa Beach.
After saying my goodbyes and taking my leave, I made the twenty-minute drive back to the condo. Once I got inside, I settled myself in front of my laptop and the ocean view on the deck and set to work.
My first search for Strickland Feed Corporation brought up a full page of results.
The top one was a pay-per-click ad leading to the corporate website. I clicked on that link, taking satisfaction in the knowledge that David Strickland would have to pay for that click.
It might be a nasty thing to do, but he obviously had too much money if he could afford gas for that monster truck of his.
If he’d invested his money in a vehicle more environmentally friendly, I might feel a little more kindly toward him. The way things stood, I did not.
I clicked around the corporate site, which was dry and boring.
It did yield one bit of information though. While I’d assumed Strickland Feed sold chicken feed since Anna had said he was a chicken farmer, it turned out they actually sold dog and cat food. Their premiere product being the all-natural chicken canned dog food.
Oh no. Strickland Feed wasn’t feeding chickens. Strickland was feeding chickens to dogs!
My heart pounded as I typed in, what are the ingredients in Strickland Chicken Dog Food?
I was hoping it was just fake chicken flavoring or something. The list that came up nearly made me vomit. The first ingredient was all-natural chicken.
No wonder he didn’t answer my comment about the number of eggs his chickens laid. He didn’t raise them for eggs. He raised them to be dog food.
That son of a biscuit eater!
I was standing before I even had the laptop lid closed. After slamming the sliding doors shut, I tossed the computer on the sofa inside and whipped out my cell.
There was the address of where David had taken Rowdy to his friend’s chicken farm in Cerritos. There was no doubt in my mind his friend was also a chicken killer.
David didn’t have that much of a head start on me. If I jumped in the car right now and broke a few speed limits I should be able to get there in half an hour.
Good gosh, I hoped I was in time.
Rowdy’s life could depend on it.