Last week brought the final scene to White Queen, with Ronny proposing to Jessica. I cut it just before she was to give her answer and that’s the way the book ends. This week I’m starting book four in the A Jessica Sales Novel series Rodeo Queen and someplace in here you will learn if she accepts his proposal or not. As this is a WIP please excuse any mistakes or errors you find.
This week the prompt is-spider. Enjoy.
Never without a smile, until today, John Estes swung his pickup into the half mile long road which led to his ranch. The board meeting he was returning from had confirmed his and many members suspicions. Someone, somehow, was injecting spider venom into select rough stock which would then prevent the animal from performing to their best.
As he climbed of of his truck, in front of his white clapboard sided three story ranch house, he saw his ranch foreman, with the ever present clipboard in his hand, walk out of the bull barn.
“Meet me in the office,” he called out to Mort, his ranch foreman.
“Bring the list of stock set for next weekend. I might want to make a few changes,” John added.
He wasn’t surprised when Mort responded with a wave.
In his office, which had been his father’s before him, John poured two fingers of bourbon into a mason jar. Setting the glass on the aged walnut desk he enjoyed the sight as the sun streaming in through the window seemingly brought the whiskey to life.
John had barely sat down when his foreman came in, nodded, headed straight for the bottle and repeated the same actions as he’d.
“Here you go?” Mort said, handing over a piece of paper.
John accepted it while pointing to a chair in front of the desk. After another sip of his drink he reviewed to list then sat forward and took a pen from brass holder. Dipping the nib in the inkwell he crossed off two names and replacing them.
“There, with the caliber of saddle bronc riders at the rodeo we need to make sure they get the best ride possible,” John stated, passing the sheet back.
“Not a problem. I’ll move them into the barn right now. Thanks for the drink,” Mort answered, rose and headed out of the house.
Now alone, John shot the last of his bourbon down then pulled out the rodeo stock account books. Two hours later, satisfied, with them locked up he made his weekly pilgrimage to his former foster daughter’s bedroom.