8. Reed #2
"Yeah, but I mean, look at me. I didn't grow up on a farm.
I'm from Chicago and I worked in a garage before going into the military.
When I came out… well, I had nothing to do.
No prospects. Dean took me in and trained me, and that's the only reason I know any of the stuff I know now.
The work is physically very hard—backbreaking sometimes—and the hours are long.
And that's coming from a physically fit SEAL.
Dean says that you can't be eased into farm life.
He says you have to be thrown into the deep end and get your hands dirty.
That's what I did and that's how I learned so fast." My gaze flickers down to her fingers on my chest. "That and the fact that although I'd no farming experience, I was very fit and used to working outside all day.
Forgive me saying so, but you don't look like you have dirty hands, sweetheart.
You look like you have soft, sweet hands.
Hands that are used to gentle, indoor work, not harsh, outdoor stuff like fencing, planting, and machinery maintenance. "
She presses her lips together. "Before you started working here did you know that you wanted to work on a farm?"
I shake my head. "Heck no. At the time, I wanted to be a race car driver. Then an air force pilot. And then a rodeo star." I never could make up my mind on exactly what I wanted to do. Once I got the hang of the farming thing, I honestly couldn't imagine doing anything else.
"Exactly. I didn't think about being a farmer either but when I got here, it felt right. I can’t say exactly why, but I feel like this is what I'm supposed to do and where I'm meant to be.
I'm not looking to own or run a ten-thousand-acre, commercial farm.
I just want to be self-sustainable, that's all.
A little family homestead with a few hens for eggs, and plant potatoes, tomatoes, zucchinis, and pumpkins for food.
Have a few plum trees or apple trees for fruit in the autumn.
Is that such a big deal? Everyone keeps turning it into something huge and then telling me that I can't do it without even giving me a chance, and without knowing anything about me. I gotta say, it pisses me off."
"Everyone?"
"Yeah. First my aunt's best friend Tara wants me to sell up and move back to Aurora.
Then your friend Dean—he's already given me the rundown on how I won't be able to survive out here.
He tried to buy my land off me, and he told me that I won't last. Then comes this Victor Sinclair guy, and he's even more adamant about it than Dean. Now you."
"Oh, I see. Well, if you're going to sell, it might as well be to Dean. He'll offer you a fair deal. Sinclair is a low-down rotten snake. He'll stitch you up as soon as look at you. Sooner."
"Are you not listening to what I'm saying? I'm not selling it, not to anyone!"
"Okay, okay, I heard you," I grin, my hands held up in a placatory gesture, an attempt to soothe the angry bearess.
"I get it, I really do. You want the chance to prove yourself and I'm an asshole for not giving it to you.
Well okay, I apologize. You're right, I guess you do deserve that chance.
You have my full support." I offer my hand.
She shakes my hand cautiously, eyeing me like I'm some kind of dangerous animal as she does so. What she says is "Thank you," but she makes it sound like "I don't believe you."
Again, in the general run of things, that's a pretty sensible attitude, but actually, I'm genuinely impressed. Seems there's more to this little lady than any of us gave her credit for. More grit. More heart. More determination.
Which, if anything, only adds to her intrigue. Adds to my desire.
Before I can say more, there's a quick rap on the door, and Ouray, who must have seen me heading in this direction, calls out from the doorway, "Hey boss, if you're in there, we got a problem."
"What kind of a problem?"
"Code black."
Shit. That means the death of one of our animals. I glance at Hailey, and a lightbulb goes off in my head. Here's a test of her resolve. Pass this and well… maybe she will stand a chance out here. We shall see. "You really want to learn about farm life?"
She nods.
"Then follow me."
For a moment, she hesitates, but then nods again.
Ouray is surprised to see Hailey behind me when I open the door.
"Let's go," I say, and his eyes flare open, but he doesn't say anything.
He leads us quickly back across the fence into our land and then along a track into the forest, Ouray throwing curious looks at me and at Hailey along the way.
When I catch his eye with my own though, the looks stop cold.
Good. He doesn't need to be looking at her, not when she's mine.
Or at least when she's going to be mine after I convince her of what a good idea it is and how much fun we can have together.
I don't know how long she'll last on this farm. Dean is giving her a few weeks to a couple of months. Lennon fears it might be at least a few months. It's not my business whether she plans to stay or not, but for whatever the duration that she's here for, I want her in my bed.
We find a gruesome scene over to the south side of our land. I can smell blood in the air as we approach, and even though it was my idea to bring her, I still pause and ask, "Are you sure you want to see this?"
She swallows and nods in the affirmative, her eyes wide, her breathing a little faster than before. I'll give her props for not backing down now, even after I've given her another chance to do so.
Then we see it, and it's gnarly. I hear her gag behind me, but she contains it and doesn't throw up. Good girl.
It's the corpse of a heifer—a young female cow that's not yet given birth—that had somehow gotten out of the pasture and into the forest. Usually it's sheep that stray, not cattle, because of their size.
Perhaps a fallen tree somewhere has brought the fence down, we'll need to check the perimeter and fix it straight away.
Meanwhile, this animal has been thoroughly mauled by something—coyotes perhaps, although they don't normally leave this much around afterwards, so perhaps not coyotes.
One of the locals will have a better idea than me.
Its abdomen lies open and bare, its insides partially eaten, entrails glistening on the ground beside it.
Flies buzzing around happily. Feast day for them.
I'm used to scenes like this, so I don't so much as flinch.
"Oh God," she whispers behind me. "Poor baby."
"You don't have to see this," I tell her, but she's stubborn and she sticks right by my side.
"Do we know what did this?" I ask Ouray and he shakes his head.
"We think it might be a mountain lion."
"Would they come out this far?"
"Rarely, but sometimes. Or maybe a bear."
"I thought they prefer smaller prey like sheep or pigs."
"They've been known to attack calves before boss, especially if they're hungry enough."
I think about it and shake my head. "I don't know Ouray, I guess it's possible, but then I'd have expected more of the body to have been eaten. Go inform Lennon and Dean about this. I'll look around to see if I can find animal tracks."
Ouray nods and heads off. I turn to Hailey and while her face is still pale, she no longer looks to be on the verge of throwing up.
"You good?" I ask.
"Yeah," she whispers.
"Wanna come look for animal tracks with me?"
"What if we run into the… killer?"
"I doubt we will. We're not wandering that far. And I have a gun just in case."
"You do?"
"Of course." I lift my shirt so she can see my pistol tucked in its holster.
As always I am carrying my trusty Sig Sauer P226 MK25 from my SEAL days.
It's probably not the handgun of choice around these parts, but its precise firing mechanism and rugged reliability have served me well over the years, both in and out of the forces.
There may be plenty of bigger handguns available, like a Colt Defender, or a Glock 36, and there are certainly less expensive ones to choose from, but when it comes to self-defense, my opinion is you can't put a price on reliability.
This is a weapon I have grown comfortable with.
I'm familiar with the feel of its heavily textured, non-slip grip in my hand, and even more importantly, I know the quality of it.
I know it can be trusted to work when the chips are down.
That sort of confidence is why I'll never change it.
Dean now… Dean swears by his Glock, but hey, each to their own. "Up here, we all carry."
"Good to know."
She follows me as we wander deeper into the forest. I try to keep my attention on the ground in front of me, but I'm too aware of her presence, of her quiet introspection.
"You're handling this better than I thought," I tell her.
"Did you expect me to pass out?"
"Something like that."
"Did you pass out when you saw your first dead cattle?"
"Nah. But I'd seen plenty of dead bodies before that. I'm assuming you haven't."
"I haven't."
"Good."
We're quickly approaching a pond that I recognize, and which indicates to me we've come about two miles into the forest, so I stop.
"Still no signs of a mountain lion, or anything else. It's puzzling. I don't know what's going on."
"Do you think it could be something else?" Leaves crunch as she comes right up to my side. I look down at her, and any sensible response vanishes from my mind. I'm thinking about her hair and her lips again, even as she continues talking,
"Maybe some other kind of wild animal? Or possibly we're going in the wrong direction. We could try heading a little further to the left and looking for signs. How do you think the calf got out of your enclosure in the first place?"
But I can't hold it in any longer. I kiss her.