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Kelly
Settling into a homestead next to the main house, I unpack a few things from my suitcase. I’m glad I had the forethought to bring some toiletries and extra clothing from my place in town. I always love the smell of farms and how vibrant they are, brimming with life. It’s a sense of a primal nature that we all have, but try to cover up.
Dating back to some earlier eras, farming’s been a staple of life over the ages. It’s no different now. These places provide much more than what people give credit for. And witnessing some of the struggles these farms have, I have complete empathy for their plight.
My thoughts turn to the two rugged, but extremely handsome ranchers as they fall over their feet when meeting me earlier this afternoon. Both dark-haired, but one shaved neat and trim, the other has the familiarity of a tribal chief. Strong and healthy, taking life as it comes.
I’ll admit that it took me off balance momentarily when Trent asked me out. Rather forward I thought and quick. But he seems like a guy that goes after what he wants, damned be the obstacles, or the consequences.
But Owen. He’s the sensitive one. Cautious, yet knowledgeable. He’s unsure of himself in many ways, but strikes me as the gentle giant type. Both made my nether regions begin to drip.
I’m not joking when I remember telling them that I had to think about it. I know a fella or two that had a write up for unbecoming conduct on an officer’s part. While I am a detective, I’m still bound by the governing body in the police force. The Bible of Police Conduct. I giggle and toss a washcloth into the basin of the marble sink.
Just be very careful of your motives and how you act on them, girl, I tell myself while I look at the image of my face in the mirror. I’m not above getting a write-up for a hot date with a client. Right?
Are you crazy? I start to laugh and turn from the mirror, putting on some overalls and boots. Good thing I brought my own hat to carry out the ‘journalist’ façade. Placing a notepad and pen in my top pocket, I look like a female version of howdy doodie. Heading out the door of my place, I take in a deep breath. Ahh!
The great outdoors doesn’t get any better than this. I begin to take a look around and ask some of the ranch hands their names and what they do on the ranch. Writing some notes on my pad, I take some chances by pushing a little more into the mishaps of late, wanting to know their take on the bad luck here at the ranch. One of them told me they thought a Native American God was inflicting the crops with disease.
I shake that one off and find a lady in the barn with the horses. Elizabeth McNally, the livestock expert on the ranch. Everything she utters rings true to me, but as I leave her presence, I can’t shake the feeling that something is off with her. I push it away, thinking it’s my hypervigilant way of doing things.
While I continue my exploration of the ranch, my mind wanders back to the two men from earlier. What would be the harm in dating them? Who would find out about it, anyway? They’re out here on a ranch with the freshest of meat and produce, so why would they leave to take me out?
Because they’re men and each of them want to ‘wow’ me.
Knock, knock, dummy genius. A few things here, gal. One, they are officially my clients whilst I work this case. Two, you hardly know them. They could be axe murderers for cryin’ out loud. I giggle at that thought because it’s entirely impossible for that to be so. My inner alarms would be set off immediately.
Anyway, number three, their crops are destroyed, so it’s not edible, therefore leaving the ranch now becomes a liability if a date does arise from this fast-paced meet and greet. I keep tracing Trent’s mouth in my mind’s eye, wanting to taste him fully.
I pass by the cattle barn and stop for a minute wave to Owen. His sweet personality is comforting, and yet mysterious. A mystery I’d like the chance to solve. His muscles bulge out from under his t-shirt, enticing me even more.
Stepping from the front of the barn and out of his sight, I walk to the main homestead and grab a bottle of water, chugging it down. Man, I forgot how hot it can get on a ranch. No shade trees except by the homesteads and surrounding the perimeter of the land.
Hawk Hollow. Such a great name for a ranch. I shudder when I recall them talking about Wayland Lear and Bull’s Eye Farm. Leaving a horror house at Bull’s Eye, and living with Truman could only be a considerate notion of heaven to them.
Remembering the appearance of that disgusting place, sends chills up my spine. Those poor people with bruises all over their bodies, so sickly, and gaunt from malnutrition. I’m thankful that Truman did step in, giving all of them a place on his ranch.
To think that these two men, detainees at Wayland Lear’s ranch from hell, made progress from that life, into a new one. It’s amazing. No one could even guess that they had been there at that particular place. Meeting them like this and seeing their transformation is exhilarating.
Wondering about going out with them in light of their past circumstances, makes me want to do it more. Damned the code of conduct at times. But the obstacle of mincing work with pleasure lingers in my head alongside the repercussions of doing so. Sighing and throwing caution to the wind, I take a deep breath and plunge right in, looking for the two men.
Heading to the barn where I last saw Owen. I’m delighted to find Trent with him, cleaning out the remainder of the stalls. Smiling, I clasp my hands together and dive right in. “After enough thought, I’ve decided to go out with you guys.”
Ecstatic with the prospect, they smile, slapping each other on the back. Trent shoots two fingers back at me.
Life is definitely too short to pass up a chance at living.
