Page 6 of Last Chance for Her Rancher Boss

“Is your walkie off?” he asked with much the same hesitation as if he had just poked a snake with a stick.

“Yes.”

“Ah. ’Cause Mitch was saying that he hasn’t been able to contact you.”

“That’s the idea.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

“Life or death, Dougie. Either spit it out or I’m going to continue with my siesta.”

Dougie’s grimace turned into a look of full-blown pain. “Just don’t shoot the messenger, okay?”

Meg somehow found enough energy to raise an eyebrow.

Being a woman in agriculture was… a lot. No matter what position you were in, it was always going to be an uphill battle to get the same respect, let alone the same basic decency, as the boys. Especially when you were built like a toothpick like Meg was, who still looked younger than her twenty-eight years. But when you were the head veterinarian in a place like this, a position that was automatically an authority figure, that uphill battle became ten times steeper. Over the last few years, though, all of the farmhands had seen Meg work her magic enough times and now gave her her due respect. Not to mention that they’d seen her flip out enough that there was a healthy dose of fear in the mix as well. So Dougie acting scared, acting like she was going to bite his head off, had Meg reluctantly opening her other eye.

“What?” she asked, watching Dougie’s throat bob as he swallowed.

“Mitch said there’s a heifer that needs to be assessed to figure out if she’s pregnant or not…”

He took a step back as Meg’s eyebrows rose further up her forehead.

“That’syour emergency?” she asked, almost irate enough to stop leaning against the cow. Almost. Dougie raised his hands in self-defense.

“Not me! Mitch. And I knew not to bother you about that. You have a schedule for checking that stuff. I know that. We all know about the schedule…”

“You’re babbling, Dougie.”

He swallowed, gulping loud enough for her to hear.

“Mitch said that if you didn’t come and do it within the next fifteen minutes, he was going to be reorganizing your calendar for you since you didn’t know how to ‘time manage effectively.’ Please don’t blame the messenger. I’m begging you.”

Meg straightened up slowly, shoulders square, both her eyes fully open. Dougie’s face went visibly pale, and he took a step backwards.

“How long ago was this?” Meg asked, her voice perfectly calm, bordering on cheerful.

“About ten minutes. Took a little bit to find you, you know, with your walkie off.”

“Right. And I’m assuming he’s in his office.”

“Ah-huh.”

“Excellent. Well, if you could start digging a ditch, I’d appreciate it. I’m going to need somewhere to hide his body after I’m done with him.”

“I’ll grab a shovel. If you need anything else, I’ll be… not here.”

He practically ran away after that, and Meg, suddenly feeling very much awake, strolled towards the office where she would find Mitch.

She didn’t bother to knock before she slammed the door open.

Mitch had the gall to look surprised, sitting at his desk, his computer open and his black hat too big on his head. He was a scrawny man, like someone had stretched a piece of taffy out too thin and given it sentience. He’d never been made for working on the yards, always more of a management sort. That was fine; the world needed people like him. What the world didn’t need, however, was someone who let a little bit of power go to their head. People who thought a managerial position made them a god amongst men. People like Mitch.

Meg wasn’t really the superstitious sort, but one saying had always stuck with her.Never trust a man in a black hat. Once again, it seemed to be proven true in the form of the skinny man behind a desk.

“What’s this about you touching my schedule?” she asked, not bothering to close the office door, which was still swinging slightly.

Mitch blinked, slowly closed his laptop and pushed his wheelie chair away from the desk. He folded his long hands over hisstomach in a thoughtful position, like he was some wise old man. Meg had to fight very hard not to roll her eyes.

---