Kelly
Me-oww!
Just look at these two hotties, right off the press. If I’d known I’d be meeting two handsome wranglers of cattle, I’d have put on my boots. With my line of work, you never know what to expect.
And I certainly didn’t expect these guys.
Hmm. Trent and Owen. Exceptionally handsome. Noted.
As I follow the men into the house and subsequently, their office, I notice how tight their asses are. There are many gains from working on a ranch. Maybe I should try it sometime, still wanting to shed a few pounds of fat.
Once in the office, Trent closes the door and Owen offers me a seat while he leans against the wall, waiting to discuss the events up to my involvement.
“Well, there isn’t really an easy way to start this, except to shoot straight from the hip,” says the man with dark hair and a tan sitting behind his desk. “So, with some recency, we’ve taken note of several instances of strange occurrences on our ranch. We’ve been missing some cattle which we still haven’t found. They’re tagged and we can give you that information shortly.”
Owen chimes in, standing from his position on the wall. “To date, thirty-four cattle have gone missing and a few sheep have escaped, but we aren’t sure how yet...”
“And the last couple have resulted in the death of some of our crops,” Trent advises.
“Death?” I ask, curious to know what that means to a rancher.
“Yes, death,” Owen says and leans across the desk to grab some photos. “Take a look at these. Some one or thing, has been directly involved in ruining the crops in those pics, and even possibly the soil itself.”
Perusing the pictures given to me, I can see what they mean by death. The crops in question have a burnt appearance, but nothing like what you’d see from a fire. “I see what you’re saying. And I’m certain that we can find out what’s going on regarding your livestock and crops.” I say, noticing that Trent is ogling me. “Any other mysterious mishaps to add?”
I look at Owen for the answer and he nods his head. “Not sure if this is part of what’s going on, but we’ve had reports from some of the field hands about busted machinery and parts missing. But that’s only been a couple of times.”
“Everything adds and helps when working cases like this,” I jot down some notes and look at Trent, still eyeing me. It’s an unfortunate sight when they expect a fifty-something guy wearing a trench coat and I’m the one that shows up. I’ve had the unpleasant task of warding off onlookers, but I’m liking the attention from these two googly-eyed pups.
“So, why the cover?” I ask, unnerving Owen a little. “I mean, why not state the facts to your workers?”
Trent sighs and runs a hand over his ruggedly handsome face. He leans back, placing his hands behind his head, stretching his lean body. “It’s like this. We figure that if they get wind of what’s really going on, they might pack up and head to some other yay-hoos ranch. We need them here, both as workers and as witnesses.”
“You know,” Owen peers at me over another photo, his blue eyes drinking me in. “Kinda like spookin’ the cattle. We don’t want to spook them, just yet,” he tells me as his eyes say much more. “At least until we actually have evidence.” His hair has a touch of salt and pepper gray at the sides that make him so desirable, like a doctor, not a rancher.
“Okay, that’s a good cover,” I say. “Umm, I’m certain that this isn’t the case for you guys, but do you possibly have any enemies that want to ruin your business?”
Both men look at each other and then Trent opens his mouth to speak, but I imagine kissing those lips. “Well, a while ago, we worked under this hellish brute of a man, Wayland Lear—”
“Bull’s Eye Farm’s, right?” I ask for confirmation. “That Wayland Lear?”
“The one and only,” Owen says, crossing his arms across his chest in a firm stance. “Such an asshole.”
“You two were there?” I alarmingly ask. I search my memory banks for their faces, but I come up empty handed. “I helped arrest him and went through the place looking for people.”
The looks on their faces are questioning, like they didn’t fully register my comments. “I didn’t see you guys there in the rescue.”
“That’s because some other officer took us to Mackenzie at Whisperwind,” Owen says. “Besides back then, we were malnourished and beaten. Still have scars to prove it.”
“Yeah we wanted him dead, but them’s the brakes,” Trent says. “Anyways, the man that took us in, Truman Pierce, helped us by finding this ranch to purchase after we had expressed an interest. He also found out that this land actually belonged to my ancestors, the Comanche Indians.”
“How interesting!” I exclaim. “That’s awesome.”
Owen gives me another clue on a possible enemy. “There was a couple that wanted this land. They called it ‘their’ land and I remember when Truman stepped in with the money to outbid them, they cursed us, saying they’d get revenge.”
“That’s an enemy in my book. Do you happen to have any descriptions and,” I jot it down and finish my thought with another question, “how long have you owned this, Hawk Hollow?”
Trent sits up and sighs. “Only a few months. We took the first issues and chalked it up to some distorted version of buyer’s remorse. But when things kept getting more chaotic around here, we figured that someone was sabotaging us.”
“And we don’t have any description for the couple. Everything was done over the internet,” Owen states.
“Well, by the looks of things and the happenings around here, it does sound like some sort of fuckery is afoot,” I say, eyeing the handsome duo.
And maybe a side of my own fun fuckery…