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Pulling up to the front drive, Cindy came to a stop and gave a smile.
“Ya’ll sure you’re gonna be okay out here?” She asked.
“Yeah, don’t worry,” Britney said, taking her bag in arms as she opened the door. “That lawyer fella said we’d sort out the will real soon. And until then he told me it’d be best if I tidied up and laid a claim to anything I want to keep.”
Cindy was quiet for a moment before she nodded.
“Alright. You take care, Britney. I’ll see ya back at work in a few days,” she said.
“Drive safe, Cindy.”
And with that, they parted ways, and the quiet of the farm was soon Britney’s alone.
The farmhouse was a lovely old style, kinda Victorian with a country vibe. It went back in the Drake family, and old Drake kept meticulous, good care of it, and did his best to pass on the skills and enthusiasm to do so to his son. Not that it panned out, with Damien runnin’ off and all.
Britney soaked it all in, remembering the good years as she slung her bag over her shoulder and sauntered on up.
It was another hot day in the country, and she wore her shorts and plaid top, keepin’ it nice and breezy with her hair tied back in a ponytail.
The animals were all taken off the farm, she was told, to be held temporarily at another place, where they could be cared for until matters could be sorted out. And though Britney worried there’d be a lot of work to do, she found the place pretty neat, just as the old Drake liked it.
She wandered around the halls and rooms, soaking it all up, noticing how nothing had changed in all the years since she first arrived. Well… except for the pictures of her. Elder Drake really did treat her like one of the family, after all.
Still, she did her best to tidy up and look through things, though she didn’t have much of a heart for disturbing the order of the place and claiming stuff for herself. So instead she scrubbed the floors, dusted the furniture, and got it all as spick and span as she could.
Though a task as big as that was somethin’ for more than one day, and well after night fell, she was bushed! Too beat to even cook, she felt. But then, without someone to cook for she never much felt like eating anyhow.
She went back to her old room and laid out on the bed, fully prepared to drift off in her former room — which looked the same as the day she left it — when suddenly the roar of a motor tore the quiet of the night apart.
It made her heart race!
But Britney, still dewy from working a sweat up cleaning, went to the window and peered out cautiously.
There, still a ways off, she could see a single light coming towards the farm.
She didn’t know what to make of it, but as the roar grew louder and it turned down the lane… she realized it had to be a motorcycle.
The porch light was still on, so when the bike came to a halt before the door, it was enough to shed some light on who she was dealing with.
Was a big, tall fella, in black leather and jeans. A hard lookin’ sort, though she couldn’t make out much more.
She got to worrying, being all by herself in the house, and went to fetch the gun she knew old Drake kept by his bed.
She had to load it, but there was time. The man seemed in no rush, and his loud, heavy bootsteps could be heard coming up the front porch steps before he got to the door.
Britney’s heart raced, but she loaded up the revolver before the man was coming up the stairs to the second floor.
Trying to calm her breathing, she cursed her luck.
Her first night fully alone — no family or roommate — and something like this had to happen!
She waited beside a door for the sound of the man reaching the top of the stairs, where the squeaky floorboard would give him away. And as soon as he got there she came around the corner and pointed the gun.
“Stop right the—” she began to shout, but the thug vaulted over the railing and grabbed her arms, pointing the gun away in less than a heartbeat!
She knew it was all done then, because the man was broad and strong, and had over a foot in height on her!
“The fuck you doin’?” he s
