“Absolutely, boss.” He stepped back with a cocky salute. “Anything else you need me to do, just text.”
“There is one thing. Use my computer in the office, access the reports Thomas has sent over. The number of stock going east, the number of stock passed out into the food chain. I want tag numbers, Ash, and descriptions. I gotta go.”
“How long for?” Ash called out as Finn jogged briskly over to the truck.
Without turning his head, Finn shouted back, “Start at the beginning and work up to the present.” He picked up his pace as Ava got the cooler balanced on the edge of the tailgate...and it tipped back toward her. Her squeak of distress was as clear as Ash's heartfelt curse from behind.
Finn reached her as the cooler slipped. He slapped his hand around the handle and yanked it to safety, his other arm curling around her waist as she fell forward with the force of her efforts. It was definitely heavier than he expected. “Did you get carried away and pack the kitchen sink, darlin'?”
Panting, flushed with exertion, Ava scowled. “No, Sir.”
“Are we smuggling gold bullions?”
“No, Sir.”
“Hmm, a surprise then.” Amused, some of the stress eking away, he flipped the lid open and laughed. “Not the kitchen sink, I see, but enough water to put out a brush fire. An A for effort, darlin'.” He rummaged deeper through the jungle of bottles, found the two Thermos' and a stash of sandwiches, chips, and cookies. “And an A for listening to your Dom. Good girl. Now, let's move this into the front of the truck, and let's go.”
Ava slipped out of his hold and around the truck, opening the door for him as he snagged the cooler and snapped the tailgate shut. She looked like a little cowgirl faerie, all soft and edible, clutching the door as he reached in and pulled the seat forward enough to wedge the cooler into the space behind it.
Another day in the near future, they'd do this again without the pressure of time on their heads. Pack a picnic, a blanket, and drive out into the middle of the beauty nature provided. He had a hankering for a tasty faerie, especially one who sat perfectly on his tongue. She suited him like no other, sweet and tart, and she aroused his feral side when she looked so guileless.
Finn clunked the seat back into position, then patted the soft leather. “In you get, darlin'. Best get moving, we've got a long drive ahead of us.”
“It takes three hours to get there?” she asked dubiously, sliding into the truck and immediately buckling her seatbelt like a very good little girl. “What do you do in an emergency?”
He leaned on the door. “Trust the people in charge to handle it until I get there and take the chopper. There's a greater need for the bird to be in the sky over here today than there is for us to hijack it for most of the day. Besides, you'll see a lot more of the land by truck, in closer detail.”
“No, that's fine. I don't think I'd like to fly in a helicopter.”
He frowned. “You were okay in the plane.”
“Big plane, big wings. A helicopter is too small.”
“Okay then, we'll add chopper rides to your soft limits list, darlin'. Mind your hands now,” he added, and closed the door. His frown stayed in place as he rounded the gleaming red hood, then vanished when he slid into the driver's seat and saw her ogling the dash. “Don't tell me you've never been in a truck.”
“Not like this. This is pretty fancy, Finn.”
Grinning, he gunned the engine, listened to the thrum of power vibrating subtly beneath them. “She's a workhorse, Ava. Built to tow, carry, and get us home safe. She's not clean or tidy,” he said, gesturing to the mud on the mats and the hunk of rope by Ava's feet, “but she'll get us where we need to go.”
“You call your truck she.”
“I sure do,” he drawled, giving the gearshift a quick pat as he set it into reverse and backed up enough to swing the truck in a wide circle. He drove slowly through the yard, mindful of the cattle, mounted horses, and dogs working the pens. “She's a bitch when she wants to be, temperamental and stubborn, but she's a goddess in a bind and loyal as can be. It'll break my heart when I have to trade her in for a newer model.”
Ava blinked at him. “Trade it in? It's like brand new, Finn.”
“She's got about a year on her,” he argued with a smile. “If I don't ride her too rough this summer, she might last the winter, but I don't know if she'll see spring next year.” He accelerated faster as they left the yard, heading down the long drive toward the highway. “Once we make the turn-off, you'll see why she's going to burn out faster than other trucks.”
“Turn-off? We're taking the highway, right?”
“Afraid not, darlin'. Why go the long route when we can take a short cut?” With a smirk, he wrenched the wheel and sent the truck bouncing off the drive and onto a track that was little more than a pair of wheel ruts in the dirt. “The ground's a bit soft at this time of the year, but the last few days have been dry enough we shouldn't have too many issues.”
Ava grabbed the oh shit handle with both hands, holding on for dear life as the wheels rumbled and rocked. “Issues?”
“Take a breath and relax, little dove. I drive this route on a regular basis, could drive it blindfolded if I had to. Just get comfy and enjoy the ride. We'll probably see some deer, maybe a moose or two. No matter how many times I see them or how many fences they take down, it never gets old. They're a pain in the ass when they start smashing through shit, but it's part of the price we pay for coexisting here with them.”
“So you don't shoot them?”
“Yeah, we do. Come winter when we're up to our eyebrows in snow, it's reassuring to know the freezer's stocked with what we need. Beef, venison, fish. We take what we need from the land, nothing more. When we hunt, we cull out the weak and the old. The ones that won't make it through the hard months. A quick, clean death compared to starving or freezing to death, or falling prey to the wolves.”
“I keep forgetting about the wolves,” she murmured, peering through the window as though one might dart in front of the truck. “Are they a big problem?”
Finn shrugged casually. “We leave them alone unless they start coming down off the higher ranges to kill cattle. We tend to see them more in the lean months when their food supply is scarce. Same with the bears. We try not to interfere with them so long as they don't start killing everything they can. I like nature, darlin'. It's powerful and beautiful. Working with it is easier than fighting against it. I don't like seeing it destroyed.”
“So you save it. Like you saved me.”
He reached over and wrested her fingers from around the handle, bringing her hand to rest under his on the gearshift, their fingers linked. “You didn't need saving, Ava. Still don't, to my mind. Seems to me, you've had some rough patches in your life. Some made you stronger, others shook you up. Like nature, you bounce back when something hurts you. A bit of guidance and nurturing, you'll be steady again.”
“For how long? Whenever I think I'm making progress, I fall again. The voices chime in, taunting me with my father's words, and I just want it to stop. My father raised me from a baby, Finn. He's a vindictive, malicious alcoholic who hates women and yet wants nothing more than to keep them under his foot. He loves degrading them, humiliating them, and I have to wonder how much of him is inside me.”
“You're not like him, Ava. There's no rotten kernel buried inside you ready to blossom and spill cruelty into the world. It's just not who you are. The voices are in your head; we'll find a way to get them out. Is this the kind of shit you pump into yourself when you need to cut?”
“He tells me I'm stupid, calls me a whore. Disassembles me from inside. Takes all the good things in my life and twists them, defiles them, trying to turn them against me.” Ava looked at him, miserable and raw. “He doesn't like what I've found here with you.”
Finn scowled. They were opening doors he'd rather not touch without expert backup, but he wasn't sure if she'd offer this opportunity again. “Then he's going to have to suck o
n it, Ava. He doesn't get a say in how you live your life or who you share it with. He sure as hell doesn't tell you when it ends.”
“Who does?”
“Someone with a lot more wisdom and knowledge than any of us. I'm not a religious man, darlin'. My parents dragged me to church every Sunday, I sat through every damn Sunday school, but I made my own decisions about God years ago. I figure I don't need to sit in a building with a hundred people to connect with whoever's looking over us. If there's a God, then He's with us wherever we are, listening when we say a prayer. I don't say many, but I look around here and see His work at every turn, fate and destiny playing their tune. We dance to it, and we live until we stop breathing.”
She snorted. “We live until we die. That's poetic, Finn.”
“I have my moments. You're not going anywhere for a long time, little dove.” He tightened his fingers on hers, then downshifted as they veered toward an incline. “You and me, we have things to do.”
In an instant, the gap in her vault snapped shut. She was remarkable, the way she swung from mood to mood so seamlessly, repairing the holes as fast as he clawed at them. “Things like driving a six-hour round trip to look at some reports?”
“Hmmm, yeah, about that. This may turn out to be more of a reconnaissance mission. I had a conversation with the station manager this morning that's put me on edge, darlin'. We need to be prepared for some hostility, likely some evasion, so I'm going to ask you to be your usual inquisitive self.”
“Inquisitive as in nosy? You want me to poke around.”
“I sure do. Thomas and I need to have a serious discussion on his attitude while you slip on your welfare manager boots and take a look around, note down anything suspicious. He's hiding something and I want to know what it is.” Finn maneuvered a dodgy piece of track carefully. “Maybe my gut's wrong and I'm judging the boy unfairly, but I'm not willing to take the risk.”
Ava shifted in her seat, adjusting herself so she sat facing him at a better angle. “I'm thinking your gut isn't often wrong.”
“No, it has a decent bullshit meter installed, honed over forty years of sifting through the crap. If I'm right, you and I are gonna have our work cut out for us. If you're up for digging your boots in and turning things around, that is.”
“You might have to explain what you mean by that.” Puzzled, she tilted her head as the cutest little furrow appeared between her eyebrows. “Why would you turn things around if they work?”
“Because I'm not sure they do anymore. If today goes south, I'll know for sure they don't.” Finn cast his eye over a cluster of cattle forty feet away, satisfied they were all fit and well. “The station managers hold a lot of control, Ava. Unsupervised for the most part. The people I've chosen to put in charge are people who I thought earned my trust and could bear the weight of responsibility. If I'm proven wrong...”
“Oh. Master Finnegan is mad.”
“Master Finnegan is livid,” he corrected. “He hates being lied to and he won't tolerate being made to look the fool.”
“Yeah, but Master Finnegan is bigger and meaner than you on a normal day,” she muttered, giving him a knowing look. “Not that you're not all masterful and sexy, but when you're Master Finnegan...domination levels go through the roof. Sir,” she added quickly. “I can't imagine that side of you taking betrayal kindly.”
Finn pursed his lips. “No, I definitely won't. But we'll deal with that if and when it happens. Dwelling on the possibilities won't keep my temper under control. What I want to know is how you'd run the ranch, Ava. Forget what's happening now, how it's running now, and imagine it's a blank project for you to work on. Eighty-thousand acres, four stations, twenty-k head of cattle and the breeding program for the horses. It's all yours to play with—what are you going to do with it?”
Nervous giggles filled the cab like music. “Finn, this is ludicrous. I don't know how big an acre is, let alone eighty thousand of them. City girl, remember? I don't...oh, fine,” she huffed theatrically when he lifted an eyebrow at her. “But don't you blame me when you crash your beloved she-truck because you're laughing too hard.”
Beloved she-truck? I think I detect a hint of jealousy there. “Don't be jealous of the truck, darlin'. She can't hold a candle to you. Now, get that creative brain spinning and wow me with your genius.”
“Jealous, my ass.” It was barely more than a hissed whisper, but he caught it. Her fingers twitched uneasily beneath his. “Cows first, I guess. The system you use can obviously support the number of cattle to a high standard. You have black ones, silver ones, and red ones, right?”
“On the purebred side, yes. Black Angus, Murray Greys, and Limousins.”
“Purebred, those are the ones that are the same breed all the way through,” she murmured to herself. “They make up a small number of the overall total you've got. The rest are all mixed with another breed?”
“We crossbreed for bigger cattle, higher quality meat, easier calving. There's many reasons for it,” he informed her with amusement. She was definitely taking her assignment seriously, and he was impressed with how much she'd taken on board in her short time on the ranch. He'd make a rancher of her yet. “We run five hundred Black Angus, two hundred Murray Grey, and five hundred Limousins.”
“Okay, so one-twentieth of the herd consists of purebred cattle, over those three breeds. Why those three?”
Good question. “I've always wanted Black Angus. I love the look of them, and they're designed for meat. They're a popular breed because the meat quality is exceptional. That's why we cross the majority of our breeding females with Angus.” He rubbed his chin. “The Murray Greys were an experiment. I read an article about them and decided to give them a shot. They calve well, produce meat as good as the Angus, and they fatten well without additional feed. They're easy to deal with, even the bulls, and they have excellent temperaments. Plus, the cows are good mothers which is always a bonus.”
“Mmm-hmm. And the red ones?”
“Same reasons as the other two breeds. Meat, easy calving, good mothers. They cross well onto other breeds, but I find the bulls to be more temperamental. Honestly, I wouldn't mind dispersing them.”
“Okay.” Ava lapsed into silence, her clever brain whirling through the data. “And the bull calf you sold for a quarter million? That was a Black Angus, right?”
“He was.”
Finn found himself riding high on the anticipation of what she said next. For a city girl—her words—she was asking all the right questions, and he was excited by how she was thinking. Logical, methodical, building a picture. This road trip east was fast becoming one of his favorites.
“Okay, I guess if I was in charge, the first thing I'd do is sell the crossbred cattle,” she mused slowly. “And I would sell the red ones...the Limousins.”
Finn choked, smacked himself in the chest. What the fuck? “I wasn't expecting that, darlin'. But this is your plan, so carry on. We've reduced the herd from twenty-thousand to seven hundred...now what are you going to do?”
She smiled. “We go shopping!”
“Shopping? To the nearest mall?” He had visions of his house drowning in twenty-thousand cows' worth of clothes, shoes, and accessories.
Ava's expression turned suspicious. “Do they even sell cows at the mall? I mean, they don't in D.C., but Montana seems to be a law unto itself when it comes to stores.”
He was sorely tempted to slam on the brakes and drag her into his lap for a thorough kissing. He should've known she wasn't like other women who'd had access to his wallet—what she wore wasn't important, not really. Not unless it was denim and plaid. “You'd go shopping for cattle. I can get behind that. What cows are we buying?”
Her thought process turned inwards again, her mouth twisting slightly as she worried her bottom lip. “Well, if one Angus calf can sell for a quarter million, I guess I'd be looking for more of those. I'd look for more females with the bloodlines of the mother cow that raised him and research the lines netti
ng the highest prices in the sales. Maybe buy some more boys to balance out the heifer numbers? That sounds smart, doesn't it?”
“Do you think it does?”
“Yeah. I think.”
“You think right. Keep going, darlin', I'm intrigued as to what you have in mind next. What are your intentions for the Murray Grey herd?”
Her cheeks flushed pink. “I think I'd expand them too. I like them, they're pretty. Are they profitable?”
“Not as such, not in comparison with the Angus. But then, the number of breeders in the US is small and the breed doesn't have the same hype. That could change with the right approach,” he said with a hum in his throat. “It might cost some money and you'd need help from other ranchers working with the breed, but you could work toward establishing the Greys into the market as a profitable animal.”
“Then I'd increase the heifer numbers, but not to the degree I would with the Angus.” Ava told him confidently.
The scenery was passing by without either of them noticing, but Finn didn't care. His submissive was blossoming, growing more animated by the second, and that was far more precious to him than the landscape. This is what she needed. Fresh air, sunshine, and something to focus on. She might think she was building a dream world, vocalizing what she thought was a fantasy, but Finn was taking every word on board and filing it away until he could research the pros and cons of her suggestions.
“All right, boss lady,” he drawled, sliding his eyes over to watch her face. “We're down to seven hundred head. What numbers are we acquiring to boost the stock we already have?”
Inching around in her seat a bit more, she adjusted her seatbelt until it was comfortable, then dropped her head back against the window. She made a low noise in her throat. “What budget do I have? I don't want to overspend.”
Finn laughed. “Darlin', you just sold nineteen thousand and three hundred head of stock. I'm thinking you can spend whatever you feel like fucking spending.”
Black Light: Branded Page 13
