Page 46 of Gotta Dig Deep
Glenna
Standing at the sink, Glenna was straining her ears for the sound of the shower, wanting to hear the instant it turned off so she could prepare herself to see Graeme again.
The man turned her sense around backwards, making everything all mixed up in her mind. There was no reason to think about him intimately, no reason at all.
Yet, she couldn’t stop her mind from taking her down that path. Again.
Gonna cream my panties if I don’t quit.
Listening hard to things inside the house as she was, the grinding of wheels on gravel didn’t register until the vehicles were nearly all the way up to the house. Glancing outside, Glenna saw three vehicles pulling to a stop even with the fence for the first paddock. She didn’t recognize two of them, but the one bringing up the rear belonged to Jackson Snyder, not someone she’d wanted to see on her place, ever.
Drying her hands quickly, Glenna shushed a growling Shamu as she shoved her feet into the boots next to the door. “Stay here, Shammy,” she instructed as she slipped out the door, closing it in his snarling face.
“Hello,” a man called from behind the passenger door of the truck in the front. The driver didn’t exit the vehicle, but two additional men were milling around the back of the car parked behind. Jackson rounded out the unwelcome group as he strolled towards the man nearest Glenna. The one who had greeted her raised a hand and she noted the clear-polish manicure of his nails. His face was drawn into severe lines, almost a brother to the angry farmer in the classic painting with the pitchfork. “Mrs. Richeson? Good to meet you. I’m Sean Moorcock.”
“What can I do for you?” She didn’t approach them or hold out her hand. Manners notwithstanding, she hadn’t invited them here and had a feeling she wasn’t going to enjoy the upcoming interaction.
“Glenna, Mr. Moorcock has a proposition for you.” Jackson had stopped near the man, hands shoved into his pockets. “Would do you good to listen to him.”
“Mr. Snyder, I’m certain I can speak for myself.” Moorcock’s disdain for Jackson wasn’t reassuring. If they were associates of some kind, maybe the investor in the Snyder place, then wouldn’t they have a better relationship? “Mrs. Richeson, Glenna, if I may? This is a very nice spread you’ve got. I understand you and your husband worked it until his untimely passing, yes? It’s nice, good pasturage with a predictable water source. But it’s showing its age, just a little. It’s a lot of work for one person, isn’t it?”
“What can I do for you?” She angled her head back, staring down her nose at the man. Better to appear to be slightly aggressive than a pushover, and his oily patter told her this was a set of statements he’d practiced for a long time. “Mr. Moorcock, as you’ve noted, there’s always work to do in ranching.”
“I won’t take up much of your time today.” Slight emphasis on the last word expressed his expectation there would be other conversations. “The offer I’ve made Mr. Snyder wouldn’t work for this place, I’m afraid. It’s too small for an infusion of cash to be helpful. But because it’s adjacent to the Snyder place, those connecting miles of fence help to increase the value of the land, so—”
“Not for sale.” She didn’t hesitate to interrupt him, sweeping one hand through the air in a decisive arc. “You’ve made a trip for nothing. Sorry for your luck.” Feet planted wide, she landed a fist on each hip. “Jackson led you a merry chase.”
“Oh, it wasn’t Mr. Snyder who brought me here.” Moorcock gave her a thin smile and she had a moment to think how odd it looked on his face. “It’s just good business.”
“Like I said, my place isn’t for sale.” She didn’t move an inch, standing firm. “You can see yourself out.”
“Glenna,” Jackson blurted, stepping forward in a rush. “Listen to him at least.”
“The fact you’re vouching for him and had the brass balls to bring him onto my place after the way you’ve acted towards me is one of the biggest reasons I’m unwilling to do that, Jackson. You’ve proven your level is low, and I’ve no intention in allowing myself to stoop at all.” Hoping her hands wouldn’t betray the trembling in her body, Glenna pointed a finger at him. “Get off my land.”
“Bitch, you either listen to him and take the deal, or I’ll fuck you, ruin you, and then you’ll still take the deal. You sell and I could even be talked into letting you continue to live here.” He leered at her, eyes glittering as they locked on her. “As long as you understood there’d be a price to pay that wasn’t rent.”
“Pretty sure the lady told you to leave. Might wanna get your collective asses back in your rides and get the hell out of here.”
Glenna didn’t turn as Graeme approached from the house. An instant later, Shamu pressed himself to her leg on one side, the big man holding his leash lining up with them.
“And you, asshole, you talk to her like that again, it’ll be the last time you open your piehole without pain, feel me?” The rumble of Graeme’s voice vibrated through the air and Glenna was pleased to see Jackson’s face go pale. “Threats like that’ll get you a one-way ticket to a place you don’t wanna visit.”
“You should think about it long and hard, Mrs. Richeson. As Mr. Snyder indicated, it’s in your best interest to give it your fullest attention.” Moorcock dipped his chin. “Goodbye for now.”
Once Moorcock was seated in the truck, the other men retreated to their vehicles, Jackson taking longer because he spent half the time with his head rotated to keep an eye on where Glenna stood with Graeme.
A minute or two later and they were gone, a light haze of dust the only evidence of their quick turnaround and exit.
“You’re trembling,” Graeme said as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pivoted them towards the house. He bent slightly and unclipped the leash from Shamu’s harness, but even released, the dog didn’t move from his place at her side. “Let’s get back inside and you can tell me what the hell that was all about.”
Her teeth were clattering lightly by the time he got her maneuvered into the living room and had her ensconced on the couch. A blanket settled around her back and she grasped the edges tightly, pulling it across her chest. Shamu was lying on her feet, crowded as close as he could get to her.
Glenna stared out the front window and ignored clattering from the kitchen punctuated with expletives. She was mentally redrawing the encounter, picking apart the things that had been said and what had been inferred. Nothing she could take to the sheriff, but enough so every rancher in the area would be up in arms if they heard about it.
Still think he’s just hot air?
Glenna’s muscles shook with a rigor and hands landed on either side of her neck, holding her shoulders tightly.
