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“Your life might be easier if you didn’t have to run a farm all by yourself,” he said, “but is that what you really want?”
“No,” she said. “I want whoever is targeting my farm and my animals to stop. I guess I need to stay awake all night to guard my animals and produce.”
“That’s not practical,” Gerard said.
“I might as well.” She waved her free hand. “I won’t be able to sleep knowing someone might be out there hurting my animals and destroying my livelihood. As it is, I’ll only make half what I had hoped to make on my melons, and only if I can deliver the other half intact. I was counting on that income to pay my taxes.”
“We’ll think of something,” Gerard said.
“What? I can’t grow a field of watermelons overnight. The season is ending. I won’t be able to plant again until next spring. It’ll be next fall before I can harvest again.”
Gerard’s hold on her hand tightened. “We’ll figure it out.” Then he let go and turned the key in the ignition. The engine started right up.
Of course, it did.
Bernie shook her head. She couldn’t let this get to her. Nothing got better from whining about it.
She sat still while Gerard pulled out of the parking lot, drove onto Main Street and turned toward Tante Mimi’s Diner.
“I’m sorry,” Bernie said. “I’m not usually so negative.”
“You’re allowed to vent.” He shot her a quick glance and returned his attention to the road. “It’s been a shitty twenty-four hours.”
“Not all of it,” she said softly.
He looked again, his gaze gentle. “No, it hasn’t all been so bad.”
“No, it hasn’t.” She looked out the side window. “But the bad sure does suck.”
“But knowing you now for a whole twenty-four hours, I know you won’t give up. You’re one of those that when the going gets tough...”
“—the tough get going,” she finished, squaring her shoulders. She looked forward, her eyes narrowing. “I’m not a quitter. And they’re not going to beat me. If they want a fight...bring it.”
“That’s my girl,” Gerard said with a grin. “Let’s get some food in you, talk to the sheriff and get back out to the farm to see what we can salvage.”
Bernie was fired up and mad, ready to take on these people who were making her life hell. She only wished she knew who was doing it. She had an idea of who might be behind it, but the actual culprits? Not a clue.
If she had to, she’d sit up all night with her shotgun ready. When he showed up to commit more mayhem in an effort to scare her off her property, she’d fill the bastard’s ass full of buckshot.
She’d teach him what happens when you kill a girl’s goose and poison her dog.
Chapter 8
At Tante Mimi’s Diner, Mimi herself escorted Bernie and Gerard to a table. “I heard what happened to Howey,” she said. “Sit down. I’ll bring you some water, coffee, orange juice and cook anything you want, on the menu or not. On the house.”
Bernie hugged Mimi. “You don’t have to go to all that trouble. I doubt I could eat a bite.”
Mimi held Bernie at arm’s length. “You have to believe Howey will be all right. Think positive.”
Bernie nodded. “You’re right. He could use all the positivity he can get.”
“Right.” Mimi smoothed her hands over her apron. “What can I get you two to eat?”
Bernie shrugged. “Anything. Surprise me.”
Mimi turned to Gerard. “And you?”
“Make it two,” he said.
