A Wild Ride (Jessica Brodie Diaries #3)(4)

“Which bull y’all interested in?” he asked, staring unceremoniously at my br**sts.

“That little ‘ol one you have in the paper? I saw it in the Piggly Wiggly. We need us a bull, and someone told me to get one young, so here we are.”

“Who’s it for?” He looked at Lump closely, probably trying to see if figure out if she was a spy for Davies.

“Why, me and Phyllis, here.” That was my name for the day.

“You gotta ranch?” he asked incredulously.

“It was left to us by an uncle. He was always a bad man to us...” Lump and I exchanged a look that said we would rather not talk about how he was a bad man, but it was dirty.

I would hate myself tomorrow.

“But he left us a small ranch with four girl cows,” Lump continued. “We were told we need a boy cow. So, here we are.” She beamed at him, as did I.

The old geezer blinked at us, then looked at my boobs. “Well, that sounds about right. You need a bull for those heifers. Bull I got is, meaner’n spit, he is. Little fellow--he’ll get bigger, he’s just young is all, but a bad temper on him.”

“Will he bite my cows?” I asked in a breath whisper, putting my hand delicately to my chest.

Old Wyatt smiled slowly, showing his yellowed teeth and a glint in his eye I quickly wanted to forget.

I would definitely hate myself tomorrow.

“Nah, he won’t bite yourn cows, none. But it’ll take a coupla years a’fore he’s ready to pluck those heifers. He’ll be as happy as a tick on a hound dog once he gets at’em.”

“Oh, you won’t sell him for a coupla years?” Lump asked dejectedly.

“You got it wrong, Ma’am. I’m ready to sell today.”

We brightened.

“What are you wantin’ for him?” Lump asked.

“Got’n offer fer five grand.”

My face fell. Fuck. Adam had been right. Damn William and his bank roll.

Lump turned to me with a pout. I nodded slowly to her, allowing tears to come to my eyes. I hammed it up like I was on Broadway.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Pickitt,” Lump said, turning to a mildly distraught man—men hated to see women cry, after all. “My sister is emotional. We haven’t had any luck with finding us a boy cow—bull, did you say?—and we don’t know what we’re doin’.”

“If it wasn’t for that David, or Dave, or Davies man, whoever he is, we would have one by now!” I whimpered.

“Davies?” The old man asked.

Lump put a hand on my knee, exposing her stomach as she did so. “Yes. Some man named Mr. Davies seems to buy up all the bulls in the area. We have to get one local and can’t—he has more money than us. Phyllis takes it personally, is all. He wasn’t kind to her.”

“I don’t like that Davies, either!” Wyatt spat. “Him and his big money ranch. Chase’n away all the decent folk with his projects and undercutting. Got no use for him. He’s the one offer’n for this one.”

I let out a squeak of misery. Lump patted my knee and shook her head. “It’s okay, Mr. Pickitt. We understand. You are a businessman, you need to take the higher price. We’ll make do, somehow.”

Lump stood up and turned toward me, leaning down to show off her butt. “C’mon Phyllis, let’s leave kind Mr. Pickitt to his day.”

“Well, now, wait jist a minute.” Wyatt would have gotten up, but was old. Plus, he was distracted with Lump’s butt.

Lump turned back to him with a questioning, yet still dejected, face. I shook my head and blew into my hanky.

“I would rather sell to a coupla God fearing women like yerselves than that Davies devil any day. What can ye offer?”

And the negotiations began. I was an expert negotiator. Expert! You have to get good to get deals in Tijuana, Mexico, after all.

That Wyatt was no fool, either, though. He talked a great game, had me running for my money a couple times. Thank goodness for tits and ass. A straight man’s downfall.

Finally, we nearly agreed on $3500 cash, but Lump was still acting worried that we might go broke. We decided that she should look at the bull to make sure he was as good as the ad said.

I could tell Wyatt knew it was in the bank. We wouldn’t know what we were looking at, and he would talk circles around us until we agreed. What’s more, the transaction would all be under the table, something William wasn’t offering.

Sure enough, we stood in cow poop in a dirty, unorganized, crap shoot of a ranch looking at a little bull. Wyatt pointed out this and that, and we let our confusion show. I genuinely shrugged at Lump, and she agreed on the price.

I told him I had a cousin in town that could drive the trailer so we could pick him up today. Lump would stay here and wait. Once we had the bull he could have the cash.

We had to protect ourselves, after all. We were just women and it was cash. Add a couple dumb-blond blinks and Wyatt was nodding.

Instead of Adam, we got a ranch hand acting lazy, since Adam was sure to be recognized. The bad news was, Lump and I, who legitimately didn’t have a clue as to what we were doing, had to maneuver the mean little sucker into a trailer. In high heels and tight clothes.

It took an hour and a lot of screaming before the ranch hand, doing a terrible of job of hiding the laughter, finally helped out.